Carl saw her on the side of the road. It was just after dusk, a faint glow to the west all that was left of the setting sun. She was hitchhiking, like many another little fool. He couldn’t tell for sure, but she looked not much more than fourteen. He took a quick glance at her: heavy eye-shadow, hair dyed black, multiple piercings in her ears and one on an eyebrow, a sullen look; all too typical for even a young teenager these days. 

He wanted to get home, and, although he didn’t like to think of her out on the road at night that way, from her looks he doubted that she’d be decently grateful for any kindness, so he drove on. Just over the hill he thought better of it; he just couldn’t let her stay out there. If he heard of anything happening to her he would be feeling real bad, he knew. So he turned around at a break in the median and headed back.

As he passed her he noticed another car had pulled up. He saw someone leaning out of the passenger window talking to her. As he kept going to the next turn around he looked back in the rear-view mirror. Now someone was standing next to her. She was backing away, and he was grabbing her. Carl accelerated. Just over another hill was another turnaround. He took it, and killed his lights.

He pulled up ten or twenty yards away from them. Two men had her now, and she was struggling. As he got out of the car he could hear her muffled screams; one of them had a hand over her mouth as they pulled her towards their vehicle. Carl kept a Mossberg in a rack mounted on the driver’s side next to the door. He lifted it out and racked it as he approached the scene.

They paused, startled at the sound. “Let her go!” Carl snarled, the shotgun pointing vaguely in their direction; he didn’t want to chance the girl getting hit. He hoped the scum would be too freaked to think about using her as a shield, and indeed that’s how it worked out: they dropped her like a hot potato, hopped in their beat-up sedan and roared off.

He lowered his weapon and strode over to the girl. She was trembling, staring at their car as they drove off, then looking at him, backing away a bit. “Don’t be afraid,” Carl said, “I’m not going to do anything to you.  Are you hurt?”

She stared for a moment, then replied, “N-no, no, I’m OK.” She seemed a bit dazed; Carl wasn’t surprised.

“Do you want me to take you somewhere? Or call the police? You shouldn’t be out here this late by yourself. I’d be glad to take you home…” He waited as she collected herself.

As she did he could almost see the sullen façade drop back into place. “I ain’t goin’ home, Mister. If I liked it there I woulda stayed there. Where you goin’?” she inquired.

“I’m headed home, I live in the next county. Is there someplace I can take you? I really don’t want to just leave you here,” he replied.

“I guess you can take me down the road some,” she answered. “You ain’t some kinda creep-job, are you?”

“I don’t think so. Just an average guy, I guess,” Carl replied. “You’ll just have to decide if you’re going to take a chance and go with me.”

He waited for a moment. With a grimace and a shrug she just started walking to his car without reply. He looked as she went, shook his head, and followed after.

After they were on the road for a minute or two, he asked, “Where do you live?”

“Why? You ain’t gonna try to take me back there, are you?” she asked, still sullen.

“I’m not going to take you anywhere you don’t want to go. But a girl your age should be home, with her family. Why did you leave?”

Silence for a moment or two. Then, “My mom’s a dopehead. She’s got this boyfriend who’s a total creep. He wanted to get in my pants but I wouldn’t let him, so he started raggin’ on me to my mom, and they were yellin’ at me and stuff, and I just left. Creeps.” Sullen, sullen, sullen.

He waited another minute or two. Then: “Do you want me to take you to the police? They’d find somewhere decent for you to stay.”

“Are you nuts? I ain’t goin’ to the police. They’d put me in juvie, or some foster home or somethin’. Or they’d make me go back home.”

“You have to live somewhere. Where were you going? Do you have any other family, or some good friend, or anywhere to go?”

“I dunno. I was just goin’, OK?”

Silence for a bit. Then: “How far do you want me to take you tonight, then? I really don’t like the idea of just dropping you off on the road somewhere,” Carl said.

Silence again. Then she replied, “Yeah. I guess you’re right. Can I crash at your place?”

Carl sighed. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Amber. What’s yours?”

“Carl. Carl Henderson. Look, here’s the thing: you gotta be, what, fifteen?” 

She looked away for a moment, then mumbled, “Fourteen.”

“So if I don’t take you to the police, and anyone finds out about you staying one minute longer with me than you have to to get to the police or back home, I’m in trouble. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yeah, I understand. They’d think you were like hitting on me or something. But I won’t tell anyone. C’mon, Carl, just for one night, huh?” She managed to look a bit less sullen, more like a child, as she pleaded.

Carl relented. “All right. But you tell anyone and I’ll swear I never even saw you. One night. We’ll figure out what to do in the morning.”

Carl had a nice house. He was single, in his 30’s, warily looking for a wife but wanting to be careful; he had seen friends ‘marry in haste and repent at leisure’. He was doing well enough for himself with computer consulting and inherited money.

Amber’s eyes widened a bit as they walked through the door. She wasn’t used to a nice house, a big TV, comfortable-looking furniture that wasn’t ragged and worn.

He showed her a room to sleep in, the bathroom, got towels and sheets for her, made her a sandwich. After she ate it she yawned, and he said, “Why don’t you get some sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.” She nodded and headed for the bathroom, then went to bed. After he was pretty sure she was asleep he did the same.

In the morning he made her some breakfast. Then he sat down with her in the living room. “So what’re we going to do, Amber? Shall I take you home?” She shook her head violently. “How about the police then?” She shook her head again. “What am I supposed to do with you, then? It just wouldn’t be right to send you back out on the road. Look what almost happened to you!”

She just sat for a minute, then said, “I know it’s like a lot to ask and everything, but can’t I stay here with you? I won’t tell anyone, and I won’t do nothing wrong or break your stuff. Please, Carl, please?” Again she looked more like a child and less like a sullen teenager as she begged almost prettily.

Carl thought furiously. It was a risk, but…”All right. For now. Any time you want I’ll take you home or to the police. After a week or so we’ll see. All right?”

“Yeah, that’s fine, thanks Carl, really!” Again she didn’t seem quite as sullen.

Carl let things ride for a few days, let her get used to the household, let him get used to her. He took her shopping for a few clothes, and to get some extra groceries; having a teenager in the house definitely increased food consumption! 

There were a few things he ‘took issue’ with. She had a bit of a foul mouth, she still had the ‘sullen’ attitude, and Carl never did like the pierced/Goth look. By the time she’d been there a week or so, he figured she’d settled in sufficiently. “We need to talk,” he announced one evening, sitting down with her in the living room. 

“First of all, let me ask you: do you still want to stay here?” he inquired.

She nodded her head, perhaps a bit warily.

“You’re sure? Nowhere else you’d rather be? No place you want me to take you to? You know I will if you want…”

“No, Carl, like I said, I don’t want to go home and I don’t want to go to the police or juvie or anybody, OK?” she said, again a bit sullenly.

“Just making sure. All right, I’ve been thinking it over. I’ve decided what I want to do. If you don’t like it, no problem, if I have to I’ll drive downtown and drop you off a block from the police station. That way I’ll know that you’ll be safe if you want to be safe, anyway. 

“This is my house, my life. I’ve got things pretty well set. There’s things I like and things I don’t like. Plus there’s things I think should go a certain way and things I think aren’t right. So if you stay with me there’s going to have to be some changes made, changes in you. I’m not going to be your buddy. In some ways I’m going to act like your father. I’ll take care of you, make sure you get good food, clothes, all that. Maybe I’ll send you to college someday if it looks like a good idea. But you’re going to have to do what I say when I say it. You understand so far?” She nodded. “You want to hear the rest of what I say, or do you want to say ‘forget it’ and leave now?”

“I-I want to hear the rest. I don’t want to leave,” she replied, almost timidly.

“OK, then. You’re going to have to lose the ‘goth’ look. The piercings have got to go, the black hair, the attitude. If you stay here you have to look and act normal. You have to be polite. I’m not ‘Carl’, I’m ‘Mr. Henderson’ or ‘Sir’ to a girl your age. 

“You will have duties around the house and you will have to obey them. You will have to do schoolwork of some kind. You can go to school if you want to, or you can be homeschooled, there’s plenty of good curricula to choose from. You will go to church and you will be active in the youth group. Do you understand all this so far?” Amber gulped and nodded. “You still want to hear the rest?”

“Th-there’s more?” she asked.

“There’s more, ‘what’?” Carl intoned.

She looked puzzled for a moment, then: “Oh. There’s more, Mr. Henderson? Sir?” She even smiled a bit.

“Hm. Yes, more. You can call me a creep and storm out of here if you want, though I hope you’d let me drive you downtown like I said so you’d be safe, but here it is: if you stay here, I’m going to discipline you. It’s clear to me that you need it. You’re going to be spanked and you’re going to be whipped. I’m absolutely not going to damage you in any way. I’m not going to leave any big marks or anything like that. But you will be punished. You’ll be punished when you don’t do what you’re supposed to do, and I will punish you regularly to remind you to behave.

“So there it is. Make up your mind, stay or go.” Carl waited.

Amber had been watching him with mouth agape since he had mentioned ‘spanking’. She closed it now almost with a snap, then opened it as if she was going to say something…then closed it again. She looked down, up, down…then looked up at Carl and quietly said, “I-I would like to stay with you, Sir.”

“Very well, young lady. Stand up.” She slowly stood. “You’ve been sullen, you use foul language, your hair is a sight, and those piercings are outrageous. You’ve run away from home and caused me…inconvenience. Take your clothes off.”

She gaped for a moment, and said, “All ready?! And why do I have to take my clothes off?! You just want to-to…”

Carl cut her off. “Be quiet! I didn’t say anything about having sex with you, did I? Well, did I?” She slowly shook her head. “I can’t hear you, young lady!”

“N-no, Sir, you didn’t,” she said, somewhat more meekly.

“I didn’t what?” He was going to make her say it.

“You didn’t say you were going to have s-sex with me. Sir,” she remembered to add.

“That’s right, I didn’t. I’m not saying we never will, who knows what will happen. But you’ll have plenty of time to say ‘no’ if it comes to that. You can say ‘no’ now, and I’ll drive you downtown and drop you off. Otherwise, everything off!” He waited.

She slowly began to undress. She slipped her shoes off, took her belt off, took her socks off. She paused for a moment. He just waited. She looked down, getting red in the face. She undid her blouse, button by button, then slipped it off. Now she was in what was not much bigger than a training bra; she was not particularly ‘well-developed’ above the waist. She undid the button of her jeans, pulled them down and stepped out of them. Now in bra and lacy panties he had a good look at her shape. Quite attractive, Carl mused to himself, getting a little hard in his pants at the sight.

She looked up, but he was outwardly implacable. With a little sigh she reached around and undid her bra, slowly shucking it, then hooked her thumbs in her panties and slid them down, kicked them off.

Now she was nude, a slender young teen naked in front of a grown man. Before she could think to try to cover herself, he barked, “Hands at your sides, young lady!” She complied. Her little breasts were heaving atop her chest, nipples erect. Between her legs her cleft could be easily seen, covered only by a thin growth of light brown hair. Even her clitoris was clearly visible. She was whimpering, only barely audibly.

Carl unbuckled his belt and slowly slid it off as her eyes widened, then clenched almost shut, her little face screwed up as she tensed, awaiting the first blow.

[SMACK!] Carl swung the belt, doubled up, across her trim buttocks, leaving a clear but faint red mark. “MM!” she expressed, her mouth closed. He gave her ten strokes across her bottom. None were hard enough to make her cry out loud, and they left no more than a faint redness.

When he was done he stood before her, tipped her chin up to look at her face. “Are you all right?” Surprised by the tender concern in his voice, she looked up at him, little tears in her eyes. She nodded. He pulled her against him in a hug. She hesitated for a moment, resisting slightly, then relaxed into him. He hummed a little tune, and slid his hand down, gently rubbing her bottom as she almost sighed. Of course she couldn’t completely help but perceive the hard protrusion in his pants…

After a few moments he sent her to her room. “Get those piercings out, and the black eyeliner, young lady. When you come out I want you looking like a normal girl.” She complied, returning in a half hour, her hair brushed out, the piercings gone, her face washed. She was wearing one of the sundresses he had bought her, which so far she had declined to try on. “Very good. Now you look more normal. I guess your hair will just have to grow out…”

He gave her the choice, and she decided she wanted to homeschool, so he got her materials. He assigned her chores, mostly keeping her room clean, doing the dishes. He took her to church.

Habits are hard to break. She didn’t try to get any more piercings, and she dressed neatly, but a few days after her first spanking she was having trouble with her math. She flung her pencil down, and exclaimed, “**** this!”

Carl was in the next room. He came out and stood over her. “Having problems, young lady?” 

She acted as if she hadn’t said anything…wrong. “Yeah, I mean ‘yes Sir’, I can’t get this algebra problem to come out right!” Carl worked with her, like any father would with his daughter, until she understood it and could work the problem. 

“Come in to my study when you’re done with your schoolwork, Amber,” he just said, and left the room. 

By the time she was done, and went to his room, she had almost forgotten. He was sitting in one of his office chairs, a swivel ‘secretary’ model without arms. “I told you before, young lady, I will not tolerate foul language. Come over here,” he commanded. As she came to his side he tipped her over his lap, ignoring her ‘hey!’ and fluttering hands. He tossed up her dress, pulled her panties down, and commenced to give her a brisk, business-like spanking, [SMACK-SMACK-SMACK-SMACK!]. 

She was startled, and unprepared, so ‘closed-mouth’ noises were not the order of the day. “Oh! Oh! Oh!” she cried out as he spanked her and spanked her. After about twenty smacks he stopped. “Are you going to watch your mouth?” he inquired, punctuating with another SMACK!

“Oh! Y-yes! Yes, Sir, I will!” she whimpered.

“Very good.” He rested his hand on her bottom and rubbed gently, soothing her. Something like a sigh escaped her lips…

He found occasion to spank her twice more in the next few days. One time he just tossed the hem of her skirt up, bent her over, and swatted her with a wooden spoon on her bare bottom a few times for ‘cussing’ when she spilled a glass in the kitchen. Another time he just gave her a few swats with his bare hand on her bare thighs for forgetting to say ‘Sir’ when she spoke to him.

On Friday evening he called her to his study. “From now on you will have your regularly scheduled punishment on Fridays. We will call this ‘maintenance discipline’. Take all your clothes off,” he commanded. She hung her head and slowly complied.

When she was naked before him he picked up a riding crop that he had obtained a few days before. She trembled at the site of it and looked down. “For maintenance discipline you will be punished on…many places. It will be embarrassing, and that’s part of the discipline.” She seemed to tremble more, and little tears started in her eyes, a little whimper to her lips. He leaned close to her and cupped her chin. “Amber, look at me.” She looked up. “Nobody likes being punished, but has it been as bad as you thought it would be, as bad as it could be?” She slowly shook her head. “I said we’re not going to have sex, not yet anyway. But I didn’t say that I wouldn’t enjoy punishing you. You know I do, don’t you?” She looked down and nodded slightly. “That’s because you’re a very pretty young lady, at least you are without all that ‘goth’ idiocy,” he intoned. She actually smiled a small smile at that.

He stepped back and commanded, “Hands clasped behind your neck, young lady!” She stared for a moment, and he swung the crop against the front of her thighs, [SWAP!], saying, “Right now!” She yelped and complied, breasts heaving, nipples erect.

He strode around her, smacking the crop in his palms idly. Then [WHAP-WHAP-WHAP!] he whipped her briskly on her bare buttocks as she cried out softly, red streaks starting faintly where the crop had fallen. He continued on her thighs, swinging the crop back and forth first on the backs, then the fronts. He paused for a moment, gently rubbing where he had disciplined her. 

He stepped back and brought the crop down sharply but not too hard across her young-teen breasts, [SWAP-SWAP-SWAP!] “AAAAH!” she cried out, and “AA-AA-AA-AAAH!” as he continued to discipline her so intimately and embarrassingly.

Then, “Spread your legs,” he commanded. Again she just gaped at him, so [WHAP!] he brought the crop down across her breasts once more, saying, “Right now, young lady!” She cried out and obeyed, baring her cleft more fully to him. He brought the crop up, again sharply but not too hard, whipping her repeatedly on her tender mons and vulva, [SMACK-SMACK-SMACK!] as she nearly wailed, deeply embarrassed to be disciplined on so intimate a place, so exposed to a grown man.

After a few such strokes he tossed the crop aside. He gently caressed her, rubbing his hands on her bottom, her thighs, then her breasts. Then he slid down, cupping her cleft, tracing along the faintly reddened lips, tenderly rolling her clitoris back and forth. She began to moan and her hips rocked. He held her there more firmly, kneading and working her, squeezing her buttocks as he did so, pleasuring her insistently until he was rewarded as she orgasmed in his hands, nearly collapsing against him.

After she had subsided he kissed her forehead and sent her from the room with an almost playful SMACK to her bottom, saying, “There, young lady, I hope you’ve learned your lesson!” She scooped up her dress and scurried from the room, but paused at the door to look back with a small, shy smile.

The weeks went by. Carl continued to discipline her, spanking her bottom, whipping her thighs, sometimes naked, sometimes just tossing her skirt up. On Fridays he continued to give her ‘maintenance discipline’, stripping her naked, whipping her embarrassingly and intimately, buttocks, thighs, breasts, cleft, sometimes even holding her buttocks apart and smacking her directly on her anus as she yelped. Sometimes he would lay her on the bed, sometimes standing. Often he succeeded in bringing her to orgasm afterward. One Friday, as he caressed her cleft after her whipping, he leaned over and began to kiss her, first on her thighs, then her lower abdomen, then down to her cleft, tonguing her, sucking her. She had never imagined anything so pleasurable. She nearly shrieked, pressing herself against him, her hands fluttering in his hair, as she shouted out her orgasm.

As the time had gone by she had become more physically affectionate. When they sat on the couch watching TV, she would often lean against him. He put his arm around her shoulders and she would lay her head on his chest. She would put her face up for a goodnight kiss in the evenings and he did not refuse her. 

He bought her gifts, a cellphone, a laptop, an I-Pod. She delighted in them, thanking him and throwing her arms around him.

He had not made any sexual demands on her, except for the sexualized discipline he delivered on Fridays. Naturally he was feeling some…pressure. He relieved himself frequently, but clearly he wasn’t going to let things to continue this way indefinitely.

On an evening as he sat with her he asked, “So. Are you happy you decided to stay with me?” She looked at him and nodded vigorously. “Even though I punish you?” She looked down, then up, and nodded again, her face solemn. “That’s good, because I’m glad you stayed, too, I really am.” She looked happy at that. “Have you figured out yet that I really like you? In fact, I love you. I want you to be happy. Do you know that?”

She giggled a bit and said, “Yeah, I mean yes, Sir, I know that. I-I love you, too!” Here she leaned in and kissed him briefly on the lips, then put her head down on his chest. He stroked her hair, enjoying the moment.

“Then I have a very important question to ask. Amber, will you marry me?” She looked up, an almost awestruck expression on her face. 

“D-do you mean it? You want to marry me? I thought you just wanted to…”

“Young lady, I thought you knew me better than that!” and here he gave her a quick, almost playful SMACK on her bare thigh as she jumped and yipped. “We’re not going to do much of anything more than we all ready have until and unless we’re married, understand? So, will you?” He waited, almost breathlessly.

She stared at him for a long moment, then whispered, “Yes. Yes, Sir. I’ll marry you!”

He swept her in his arms for a long hug, saying, “I love you,” over and over.

He did a little research and found a country where, with a little ‘inducement’ to the proper officials, he could marry her legally. It would not be for a few more weeks, however. In the meantime he continued to punish her at intervals, but now he was more openly sexual with each episode, caressing her, often spanking her directly on her sex. 

On the next Friday, after she had shed her clothes, he startled her by undressing as well. He was all ready erect, and she stared at his rod, mesmerized. He proceeded with her discipline, punishing her gently, insistently, intimately, lovingly, often pressing his manhood against her cool flesh. After he had brought her to orgasm he lay next to her and pulled her on top of him. He positioned her cleft so that it straddled his rod but without penetration, and slid her moistened vulva up and down against the shaft until he groaned and spurted between them, kissing her, hugging her, rejoicing in her.

Soon they were traveling to ***** where Carl had hired a local lawyer to facilitate the arrangements. An overnight stay at a hotel, a short drive to a nearby town, a brief ceremony, and they were married.

Then they were back home. He carried her over the threshold, she clinging tightly to him. He sent her to the bathroom with a swat to her bottom. When she came out he picked her up and carried her to bed. 

He slowly undressed her, piece by piece, until she was naked. He ran his hands up and down her, squeezing her small, high breasts, kneading and working them, gently pinching and twisting her nipples. Then sliding down her belly, pausing to tickle her bellybutton as she giggled. Then running his hands down to her cleft, unceremoniously seizing the core of her being, probing to her hymen as she cried out. Carl whispered in her ear, "You're such a naughty little girl, aren't you, Amber?" and gave her a brisk front-spanking, her eyes, which had been closed from embarrassment and passion popping open in surprise. SMAK-SMAK-SMAK! went his hand upon her vulva and clitoris, the tips of his fingers trailing onto her anus. She cried out and writhed responsively. He continued to pinch and twist her nipples with one hand, while with the other he variously kneaded and worked her cleftlips and clitoris, probed her to her hymen, and spanked her again and again. 

Soon he brought her to an orgasm that was impressive and noisy. He waited til she was just past her peak. Then he pulled his rod out of his pants, positioned himself between her thighs, and thrust firmly into her, ‘raping’ her of her maidenhead with one stroke. She squealed and clutched at him, shivering violently for a few moments. Then she settled back on the bed. He stroked her cheek and she smiled a shaky little smile at him. "That's my girl," he said, and proceeded to piston in and out of her with some moderate force, feeling her tense a bit with each thrust, driving for her cervix as she moaned rhythmically.

She didn't come again, and Carl couldn’t tell how much of the lubrication he felt was from continued stimulation, or her virginal blood. But she began to move under him in rhythm towards the end, which did not take long. In just a few minutes he was groaning and shooting his seed inside her, then collapsing onto the bed next to her, kissing her, nuzzling her neck, stroking her hair. She seemed to both chuckle and sob at the same time, and clung to him tightly, still trembling but subsiding.

And Carl and his sweet hitchhiker lived happily after!

The End

By cc

All comments deliriously welcomed!

ccccc12345@lavabit.com






 
