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 Synopsis "You wanna protect her?  You take her.  I've put up with her shit
for long enough.  I'll sell her to you...  cheap!  You take her...  for
maybe a hundred quid?" I bought the young wheelchair-bound girl to save her
from another beating.
   Buying a Crippled Wife by obohobo
   Warnings Please take note!  The text in this story contains erotic
material and is expressly written for adults only.  MF Rom If you are
underage or offended by such material, or if viewing this file is illegal
in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.  This is
a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is
purely coincidental.  The ideas and thoughts that follow are pure
fantasies. In real life, at the very least they would be unpleasant and
probably illegal.  Fantasies are like that; daydreams where we can
contemplate and imagine the sensations without suffering or inflicting the
pain, despair or humiliation.  (C) obohobo 2011
   The offer
   "Aaaah NOOOO!  Daddy NO!"
   I couldn't stand by and let the drunken father punch his helpless,
wheelchair-bound, daughter in the face and stepped between them.  His fist
caught me a glancing blow but I quickly pushed him back into his chair
where he slumped down and berated his daughter for being useless and a
burden on him.  "Leave the kid alone, she couldn't help spilling your drink
when you couldn't hold your hand still enough to take it," I told him,
grabbing the wheelchair and moving her out of his reach.
   "You wanna protect her?  You take her.  I've put up with her shit for
long enough.  I'll sell her to you...  cheap!  You take her...  for maybe a
hundred quid?"
   "Bring her through to the kitchen please, Sir," his wife interrupted.
   "Only a hundred quid...  and she's old enough to be your wife...  She
mayn't be able to walk but yer can push her legs apart and her cunt is
working okay," the man yelled after me.  I wondered how he knew.
   Rachel, the girl's mother, used a damp cloth to staunch the blood
flowing from the girl's nose, and with tears in her eyes asked, "Are you
married, Sir?  Or have a partner?" I shook my head, no.  "Then will you
take her Sir?  She'll get hurt bad before long if she stays here and we'll
all get into trouble.  It's not the first time he's hit her and only
yesterday, he pasted her arse and again, it wasn't the first time."
   "No way!  I don't need a woman in my life to upset my routine and work."
   I looked at the frightened, crying girl whom I'd only seen a couple of
hours before and hardly knew her name.  She looked about fourteen years old
but her father suggested `she's old enough to be your wife' so she had to
be at least sixteen and her mother confirmed her age.  "Please take her,
Sir.  I can't control him for much longer, not when he gets on the booze
and starts on both of us.  She'll be better off with you and, as she's no
longer a child by their standards, Social Services don't want to know, at
least not until she's nearly dead and then they'll hold an enquiry to find
out why.  Take her please.  You can afford to keep her and you're not that
much older." I knew she'd seen my new estate car.  Almost like a used car
salesman, she further pressured me to take the girl, emphasising that she
was quiet and obedient and that her lack of movement in her legs, would
cause no great problem once I found what she could or could not do.
   What should I do?  I had to make up my mind and quickly too.  The girl
appeared too frightened, confused and overwhelmed to give an opinion
although I did ask her several times.
   *****
   After sending the disc and manuscript of my latest book to the publisher
the previous week, I decided to spend a few days touring in Scotland and on
the way back, detoured into Northumberland to visit a friend from my
college days.  This took me well off the main road and towards teatime I
stopped at a small café in a quiet village for a meal and afterwards
enquired of the waitress for accommodation in the area.  "You might get a
room at the Selsey's.  She does B&B on the quiet but she's only one room,
otherwise you'll have to go into the city or find one of those motorway
places and see what they have available."
   I guessed that `she does B&B on the quiet' inferred the place wasn't
registered but I found it clean enough and Rachel Selsey a pleasant woman
who suggested that I might prefer to spend the evening in their lounge
rather than sit in my room.  Having driven a long way, I relaxed and
watched the TV while Claire sat in a wheelchair at the table doing her
homework.  She didn't speak and if I spoke to her, I received a glare in
reply.  Even then I thought she seemed scared stiff but put it down to my
being a stranger and a man.  About nine o'clock Mike Selsey staggered into
the room obviously having been in the pub for some time and rather
inebriated.  "Where's my dinner!" he demanded.
   "I had it ready three hours ago," Rachel told him hesitantly, "Sorry,
you'll have to wait until I heat up again.  It shouldn't take too long."
   "Get me a glass of whiskey you useless bitch," he ordered Claire when
Rachel went into the kitchen.  He downed that and ordered her to get
another.  The way he sprawled in the armchair didn't allow Claire to get
close to him and when she nervously offered him the full glass, his
unsteady hand missed it and the liquor spilt on to the floor.  Angered and
in a drunken fury, he lashed out at the helpless girl until I intervened.
   While Rachel tended her daughter I glanced back into the lounge as Mike
Selsey appeared in the doorway and I noticed that he had dispensed with the
glass and drank the whiskey straight from the bottle.  "Don't expect to go
to school tomorrow, Useless Bitch, cuz I'll tan your arse raw after this
pansy man has gone." He finally managed to get back to the chair without
falling.
   "You've got to take her Sir," Rachel pleaded, "I won't be able to stop
him and I'll suffer his wrath too.  Take her away now, Sir, please.  She
may not be the wife of your dreams but I believe you'll look after her. 
He'll be asleep in a few minutes so we can pack and you can be on your way
before morning."
   "Do you want to come with me, Claire?" Again, I only had a glare in
reply but she didn't look very pleased with the idea and I could understand
why.
   "If you don't go, you'll get another thrashing or worse in the morning.
Better to go with John than face your father and your life could be much
better than staying here.  He seems to be a good man and not that much
older than you," Rachel remarked persuasively.
   Bought
   Working at home, alone with my imagination running wild to produce
novels that my publisher would accept, left me with little time,
inclination or opportunity to meet girls but the romantic side of my
creativity always came to the fore and I often thought about having a
beautiful woman in bed with me and tending to my needs but I never met
anyone I fancied or had the courage to speak to, not even at college.  Now
I had the choice of taking the young, disabled girl to my home and treating
her as my wife or leaving her to suffer at her father's hand.  At that time
I didn't even know the extent of her disability.  Rapid thoughts went
through my mind.  How would she fit into my life?  How would I cope with a
girl who couldn't walk?  Like many men, I'd imagined having a slave girl
but this young thing wouldn't be a slave, she'd be a girl I'd have to care
for and look after.  Would that be a bad thing?  Maybe I could use the
situation as a plot in a future novel?  Would she be like her father said,
a girl I could fuck and treat as my wife?  A girl almost helpless to my
advances?  I doubted if I would find anyone else in the near future and it
might be good to experience real sex for the first time even if it didn't
last.  Should I leave her here to suffer?  After further pleas from Rachel,
I made up my mind.  "Okay, I'll take her.  I won't hurt her but she'll have
to act as a wife should, you understand what that means, Claire?" She
nodded and Rachel confirmed she would know what to do.
   With Claire crying quietly and only speaking to her mother when I
couldn't hear and Rachel trying to bottle up her emotions, we packed her
things into my car, fortunately having an estate car, there's plenty of
room, and a little before midnight we were ready to go.  Mike snored in the
armchair and didn't waken when we left.  During the packing, Rachel tried
to explain Claire's disability and how I would need to look after her and
at each explanation, I began to wonder at my stupidity at taking on the
task.  "Claire is paralysed from the waist down from a car accident that
Mike caused, the guilt flipped his mind and he's taken to drinking heavily.
The accident, only a minor shunt that did little damage to the car, but a
folding table in the boot slid forward and damaged the nerves at the base
of her spine and now her legs are useless and cannot walk, she has to be
lifted in and out of the chair, bed, car or whatever.  We've these rings
from the ceiling in the bathroom and over her bed so she can get out of the
chair then but even so she often needs help." My mind tried to visualise
the structural alterations necessary for my home.  Would the sex be worth
all the trouble and expense even if she proved willing?  I could probably
have found a prostitute for less money, but when I looked at the sad,
bewildered girl, I knew I'd have to take the challenge and try to bring a
little happiness into her life.  But I would need to get a little return
and satisfaction for my own needs.
   Finally, before we left, Rachel gave me an envelope with Claire's birth
certificate and medical papers and I gave her £100.  "Take this Rachel, it
may soften his attitude towards you if you swear that he agreed to sell
Claire to me for this price.  He probably won't remember." I gave her my
mobile phone number and suggested late evenings were a good time to contact
me.
   Claire cried when her mother kissed her goodbye and I felt her body
tremble when I lifted her into the car but she buckled herself in.  We
didn't speak much, and when I spoke I didn't get more than a word or two in
reply.  Less than ten miles along the road, we saw a sign for a Travelodge
and I pulled in.  Twenty minutes past midnight.  "I'm too tired to drive
any further, Claire, so we'll see if they have a room for the night.  I
guess you are tired too and even if this is all strange to you, and me too,
we'll get some rest even if we don't sleep.  You'll have to tell me what I
need to do to help you and we will be sleeping together like man and wife
but I will not be hurting you, that I can assure you." The staff were
polite enough and I got a room and managed to sneak Claire in without them
seeing her bruised face.
   "It's okay, dear, you'll have to get used to me seeing you naked and
tonight we're both going to sleep that way.  I've no idea which case your
mother put your pyjamas in and my case is buried under your stuff and I'm
going to have to rely on whatever toiletries they have here.  At least your
mother put yours in a separate purse." She'd demurred and blushed when I
undressed her completely and for the first time, saw her strange body; a
normal, if undeveloped torso for a sixteen year old, attached to short,
white, spindly legs that she had no control over.  They flopped in whatever
direction gravity took them but the bruises on her buttocks and arms caused
by her father's punishments, were far worse and caused her considerable
pain.
   I left her sitting on the toilet while I undressed in the bedroom. 
Returning to the bathroom I started to wash her face and body.  "I can do
that myself," she whispered, but I continued anyway.  Inevitably, I got a
hard-on but if we were sleeping together, she'd see and feel it then even
if I'd no intention of fucking her that night, partly because of tiredness
and partially because I felt she'd had enough traumas for one day.  She
needed to feel a little loving kindness.  In bed, I held her close and
kissed her and reassured her about her safety and said I wouldn't be adding
to her bruises.  Slowly I drifted off to sleep.
   Poke, poke.  I woke, quickly remembering where I was.  "Sorry, John, I
need to pee.  Please don't be angry." I looked at my watch.  8:10; I never
sleep that late and when I got out to lift her from the bed, she couldn't
help but see and feel my fierce erection.  Mentally I noted that for the
first time, she'd spoken more than a few words to me and she'd used my
name.
   "Morning dear, of course I'm not angry.  Better to wake me than wet the
bed and it's time we were up and on our way." A huge black bruise had
formed on her face but I gave her a kiss and a cuddle to show her I
intended to care for her and carried her to the bathroom and sat her on the
toilet.  Reluctantly, I dragged myself away but not before I'd had another
good look at her undeveloped tits and sparsely covered mound.  At this
early stage and wanting to get on to the road, I decided not to force
myself on her especially as her attitude had changed slightly overnight,
possibly because I hadn't tried to molest her.  I knew she watched when I
washed whilst she sat doing her business on the toilet.  It didn't
embarrass her as much as I expected but no doubt, others had taken her to
the toilet many times before.  "Let's get you dressed, wife," I stated with
a smile when we'd completed our ablutions, using the term `wife' to
reinforce her status with me.
   Twice more at toilet stops during the long journey to my home on the
south coast, I saw her mound and she saw me piss but made no comment, and
in fact, reverted to her quiet uncommunicative self for most of the way
although she did answer me when I spoke to her.  Despite being an author,
I'm not a very communicative person either when it comes to conversation,
perhaps that is one of the reasons I've shied away from girls and wrapped
myself in the imaginary worlds of an author's creation.  Now I had real
one, albeit it a girl ten years younger than me, `handed to me on a plate',
I intended to keep her and tried to talk with her on the journey but my
expectation that she would consider me her knight in shining armour who
saved her from the big ogre of her father, didn't work out.  Not surprising
when I really thought about it; I was taking her away from her family and
friends to a new life that she knew nothing of, to a new home several
hundred miles from hers where the folks speak a very different dialect, and
she only had my word that she wouldn't be hurt and from my use of the term
`wife' for her, she knew she would be expected to have sex with me even if
she objected.  I'd have to be careful that she didn't scream, "Rape!"
   At one point on the trip she suddenly burst into tears and I indicated
there were tissues in the glove compartment but being on the motorway I
couldn't stop or hold her.  "Will I ever see Mummy again?" she wept.
   "I won't be stopping her coming to visit us and maybe in the summer and
if things are more settled with your father, we'll go and visit her. 
She'll probably phone when we get home."
   Mentally I tried to foresee the problems I'd encounter at home. 
Fortunately I live in a three bedroomed bungalow so everything is on one
level but there is a fairly high step to both entry doors and one bedroom
is my office.  The counters would be too high for her but I hadn't noticed
them being lower at her home, and I'd have to find a school, a doctor and
dentist for her.  "I'll just deal with them one at a time," I told myself.
   By the time we'd been to the local supermarket, where I suffered the
disapproving looks from the check-out lady who knew me and saw Claire's
face, we'd cooked a simple meal where I insisted she helped as much as she
could, unpacked and put much of the stuff away and watched TV for an hour,
I was ready for bed, or more correctly, ready to lose my virginity and
possibly take hers.  Her face and manner showed her fear of that so I knew
to tread carefully and to make it as pleasant an experience as I could.
   "Claire," I said gently as I wheeled her from the bathroom to our bed,
"You know what we're going to do now, don't you?" She nodded and shivered
slightly.  "You know there might be some pain for the first time?" Another
nod.  "Well, I'll do what I can to cause the least pain and will try and
see you get some enjoyment out of it so we'll play with each other for a
while before we have sex.  You are on the pill, your mother told me that,
but are you a virgin?" She shook her head, no.  I wondered why she didn't
admit that when I said there might be some pain for the first time but let
it go.
   "Your Daddy?" A nod affirmed it.
   "And he did it roughly and hurt you?" By then I'd lifted her into bed
and cuddled her to my body.
   "He did it after he'd spanked me..."
   "Okay, I shan't be spanking you at all and to get you into the mood,
let's play for a bit and get to know each other's body."
   I massaged her budding tits and her mound and kissed most of her exposed
flesh until I found her vaginal juices were flowing well, before slowly
entering my prick.  She didn't cry out when I began thrusting as I seen
couples on the Internet and it pleased me that before I climaxed, she
pushed back at me as far as she was able without usable legs and made
little murmurs of delight.  She hadn't come so I massaged her mound and
then pushed my face against her slit and used my tongue until she did.  We
cuddled afterwards and she held me tighter and closer than I expected but
it wasn't until much later that she asked, "Will you want to use my other
holes like Daddy did?" She showed signs of relief when I said that I would
like her to suck me like I'd sucked her but wasn't sure if I wanted her
bottom.  I gathered her father became angry when he'd tried to
unsuccessfully to enter her there when she had a period and gave her
another spanking because of it.
   "Why didn't your mother go to the authorities and have him taken away?"
   "He has a private income and part of it goes into her account for
housekeeping and she's got a boyfriend she might move in with now that I'm
gone.  I met him once and he seemed okay but didn't want the bother and
problems of looking after an invalid, that's partly why mother pressed you
to take me."
   The first fortnight together was pretty hectic with arranging her
schooling for her final six months at the high school, visits to the
doctors and arranging with builders to install ramps and fittings inside
the house to make life easier for us and give her a little independence. 
On the down side, Claire's mother never phoned us and when, after three
days, I tried phoning her, the phone rang but no one answered.  This
happened every day and every time we tried.  We surmised she'd gone to live
with her boyfriend.  We phoned her grandparents and left messages on their
answering machine but they didn't reply.  "They're on holiday `getting some
warmth into their bones before winter,'" Claire remarked.  The truth proved
horrific.
   "Good evening, Sir, are you John Greaves?" A police car sat on my drive
and two police officers, a male and a young female, waited on the doorstep.
   "Yes, what can I do for you?"
   "Do you have a Miss Claire Selsley here?"
   "Yes, she's doing her homework in the spare room."
   I led them through and after the introductions, Claire, sensing the
seriousness of the situation, clasped my hand tightly.  The male officer
awkwardly started, "I can see you are together and unless Miss Selsley has
any objections I'll tell you both at the same time."
   "It's about Mummy, isn't it?  That's why she hasn't phoned." Tears
streamed down Claire's face and I picked her up and held her close.
   When she'd calmed a little the police officer went on, "I'm sorry,
there's no easy way to say this; your mother and father are both dead."
   "How?  Why?  Daddy?" Claire blurted out.
   "According to the information we have, your father became angry at your
mother for letting you go with Mr.  Greaves and took a kitchen knife and
stabbed her several times.  He ripped the phone from the wall and consumed
a bottle of whiskey.  Very drunk, he drove off but lost control and hit an
oak tree on a bend in the road.  The forensic boys believe his speed to
have been in excess of 70 miles per hour and the impact of the car hitting
the tree crushed the front and him.  The Northumberland police would like
to talk to you about the events that led up to the incident.  Your
grandparents were too upset to phone you but talked with the local police
and they contacted us."
   Claire cried loudly and I let her cry on my shoulder but it took a while
for her to calm down enough for us to explain my stay at the B&B and my
taking Claire.  The police woman talked to Claire on her own and asked if
she was being forced to stay and about our sex life and if she was happy
living with me.  Fortunately in the two weeks we'd been together we had
begun to enjoy each other and her life at home and at school was very much
better than her previous one.
   Over the next month we paid two visits to Northumberland for the police
interviews and the inquest and each time we stayed with George and Kathleen
Ferris, Claire's grandparents and now her legal guardians.  At first they
were very chary of me and my motives and wanted me to sleep in a hotel but
Claire refused to agree to it and stated forcibly that if I went to a
hotel, she would go to.  Finally they allowed me to stay, mainly because
they were too old and infirm to handle Claire and they wanted the
opportunity to talk with her.  By the end of our time with them, after
seeing how I looked after her and from conversations Kathleen had with
Claire, they began to treat us as a couple.
   Christmas came and for once I made an event of it.  Claire even invited
Zoe, one of the girls from school who unofficially looked after her, for
tea and they spent the evening together.  I'd met her several times when I
collected Claire from school so we weren't strangers and after a pleasant
meal, I left them in the lounge giggling and chattering and only caught
snippets of conversation while I cleaned up the kitchen.  "Do you really
sleep in the same bed?  Do you do it?" I moved to my office when Claire
affirmed that she did.
   Mid January, Social Services visited us and an officious woman decided
it wasn't right for a young disabled girl to be living with a man as his
wife and, although Claire was old enough to do so, she wasn't yet a legal
adult and the woman started proceedings to have her moved to a care home. I
consulted the lawyer who vetted books for my publisher.  "If it comes to a
court case, you should win but it could cost an awful lot in time and
money. These Social Services people often think they are a law unto
themselves.  Your best bet is to actually marry her.  I don't think he
seriously thought we'd do it but I took him at his word."
   We made the long journey in bad weather to see her grandparents, her
legal guardians, to get their consent for Claire to marry, which they
readily granted and we obtained a licence and married in a registry office
with only them as witnesses.  My parents moved abroad soon after I left
home.
   We'd been home less than a day when Social Services arrived, accompanied
by two police officers, with authorisation to take Miss Claire Selsley into
care.  "Sorry, there's no Miss Claire Selsley here, this is my wife, Mrs.
Claire Greaves." Of course they needed proof but we had that.
   "How did you get on at school today?" I asked Claire when I picked her
up on her first morning back.
   "A bit embarrassing at times because the headmaster announced my name
change in assembly and that I was the first married student the school had,
and many of the girls and some boys wanted to know what it felt like to be
married.  I said it made little difference except that my life was more
secure now."
   I smiled and looked back to a few months earlier when I'd paid £100 for
a miserable cripple and now had a happy teenager as my wife.
   Finis 
  
Buying a Crippled Wife