Rescuing the Girl Next Door 

Synopsis 

John steps in to prevent a mother continuing to thrash her daughter and then takes the girl home to look after her.  
 

Rescuing the Girl Next Door

by obohobo
 

Warnings 

Please take note! 

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.  

Mg NC. Spanking  

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 2008 
 

WHACK! Aaahh!! WHACK! Assshh! ! No more mother, please! WHACK! Yaaah! Stop!! You're killing me!! WHACK! Aaahhhhh! I'm not a whore! Let me go!! 

In the quietness of an early Saturday morning in June, the noise coming from my neighbour's kitchen sounded loudly through the shared wall of the semi-detached house. The teenaged girl was receiving another beating from her self-righteous, bully of a mother, the third beating I'd heard in the six months they'd lived next door and it sounded by far the worst. I'd no idea how many other times the mother had thrashed the girl but this time I resolved to intervene. 

Apart from actually having been born in the local hospital and going away for holidays, I'd lived all 26 years of my life in the house my parents bought new about twenty years before. Officially it was a two bedroomed house and my sister Karen, older than me by ten years, had the second, smaller, bedroom upstairs. When I became old enough to need a bedroom of my own, father converted the small downstairs dining area for me but I still had to trek upstairs to the bathroom and toilet. When Karen, married and moved to another part of the country when she was twenty-one, I took over her bedroom and Dad knocked the wall down between my old bedroom and the kitchen to give mother more space for cooking. Unfortunately, that was one of the last jobs he did on the house; he suffered a heart attack soon after and died at work. 

Mum and I continued to live there on our own while I went through the local college and university and obtained a degree in Chemistry. I now have the official title of Dr. John Barlow, although to most people I am just 'John'. During that time Mum became increasingly infirm and had great difficulty in climbing the stairs to the toilet and when it got to the stage that she had to have a commode downstairs and use a small bed in the lounge, Karen offered to let her live with them in their bungalow. 

It didn't take long for me to become adept at living alone, partly because I'd honed my cooking and domestic skills while looking after mother, and when she left I converted the small bedroom into a computer study room and slept in the main bedroom. During this time, I had several girlfriends but no relationship lasted for more than a month or two. The usual reason or excuse for them ending was that I wasn't a social person and didn't go out much and when I did, I found the noise and smoke of the pubs and clubs too much of a distraction and, not being a night-owl person, wanted to return home earlier than they would have liked. 

My qualifications allowed me to teach chemistry and maths at school and college level but there was no post available locally and, not wanting to give up my independence and the house, I took a lesser-paid job as a technician in the college I'd attended earlier. Less money, but less hassle, and always an 8:30 - 4:30 job with no evening meetings, no parents to deal with, and no reports to fill in. It suited me. 

Until nearly a year ago, Mrs. Williams lived next door. Like my parents, she and her husband bought the house from new and she continued to live there when he died. I always got on well with the old lady and after she became a widow, did jobs around the house and, until I went to university, kept the garden more or less under control but when, with my coursework, I hadn't the time, she got a local gardener to come in regularly.  

I disliked Mrs. Emerson our new neighbour almost from her arrival. A tall, buxom woman, with a sharp tongue and a short temper, she sort to treat me like I was a cheap dogsbody. A week after moving in she came to my door to demand I repaired the chain-link fence between our properties. Had she asked I might have done it or at least helped, but no, she tried to make out it was my job and my fault the repairs were needed. Pointing out that as the fence posts were on her side of the fence, it was her responsibility to see to the repairs. I told her to get a fencing firm to fix the fence. The repairs have never been done. 

Her sixteen-year-old daughter, Theresa, or Terri as she liked to be called, was quite different. A little over 5 feet tall, fairly slim with short dark hair and, although she always dressed plainly and wore no make-up or jewellery, I thought she was attractive. At least she was polite, friendly and well spoken when we were both in the garden and I managed to have a few words with her out of earshot and sight of her mother. 

Long ago dad installed a gate between our two back gardens so we could get from one house to the other easily. It was through this gate I hurried to see what I could do to stop the beating. 

The scene revealed when I peered though the kitchen window could have been erotic in the right circumstances but it actually revolted me and added fuel to my anger. Naked and held struggling and howling on the kitchen table by her powerful, belt wielding mother, Terry screamed with the agony of each blow. Her bottom and thighs were already blistered and bruised and there appeared no sign that her mother was ready to let up. I tried the door; locked. I tapped the window. Mrs. Emerson looked up and momentarily lost her grip on Terri whose writhing caused her to fall to the floor and curl into a protective ball. Fixing me with a glare that should have withered my resolve, her mother continued to lash the belt on any part of her daughter's body that presented itself and I knew I had to do something quickly. Pressing my mobile phone to the window, I took a picture of the scene hoping and praying the flash would distract the woman. It did. At least she stopped and came towards the kitchen door. I started to dial 999 but only got the first two digits when the door opened and I faced the angry woman. She still held the belt and raised it threateningly. "What did you want to poke your nose in for? I'm just giving the slut what she wants, what she needs." 

"She needs to be taken away to somewhere safe, somewhere where she won't be hurt, somewhere where she will be cared for and get treated for the pain she is in," I interrupted, trying to push my way inside. There was no way my relatively small body would get passed her but it wasn't necessary. To my amazement she stood aside. 

"You want to care for her, you take her and find out for yourself what she's like. Find out for yourself what the cunning little bitch really wants and asked for. There's no place for a slut like her in this house. You want a whore, you take her."  

Carefully I helped the screaming, crying girl to her feet, wrapped the robe that had fallen to the floor around her battered body, and half carried her to my house. At this stage I am not sure if she realised much of what was happening. Although her screaming abated a little, her body shook with pain and I guessed she feared what I might do. For several minutes I held her close, hoping to gain her trust and to show I was ready to protect her but I doubted that trust would come easily or quickly. We were still embraced when the door opened and her mother threw in a plastic carrier bag of books. Several fell out and slid across the floor; they were all bondage and slavery paperbacks. "That's what the slut wants to be! A sex slave! God help her. I've tried to raise her decently and then find she's into this smut," the woman yelled as she closed the door and left. 

"It's... not...what... it looks...like...John," she stammered through her sobs, "I..." 

"Hush Terri, we can talk later but for now we must try to ease your pain. Do you want me to take you to the hospital or get the police? It's assault, even though your mother did it." 

"No... she is my mother...I'll get sent to a home...I'll have to go to...court...I don't..."  

"Okay, I'll go with it for now, at least until I see how serious your injuries are. You'll have to trust me and co-operate with what I need to do to help you. Terry, I'm going to take you upstairs into the bathroom to bathe your welts and to find some painkillers. I will be removing your dressing gown but I won't interfere with you otherwise. Understand?" A slow nod but I could see the confusion in her eyes as she realised she'd be naked with a man only ten years older than herself; a man whose erection was pressing against her thigh albeit, it was hidden by his shorts. Maybe she was even worried about her virginity but I've no doubt the pain she was in, blocked out most other thoughts. 

The welting was horrific and in my anger at her treatment, I almost reneged on my agreement not to call the police or take her to the hospital, but I didn't. Selfish reasons lurking in the back of my mind came to the fore. I liked the idea of having the young girl with me, I liked being the Good Samaritan, the knight in shining armour rescuing the damsel in distress and maybe, just maybe, I would be able to get her into bed and willingly have sex with me. Perhaps she would be a sex slave like her mother said. 

Half an hour later, I helped her from the bath and gently dried her with the softest towel I had. She'd quietened down considerably but I knew she was still in a great deal of pain even after the pain killers had started to take effect, and I also knew she worried over my hard prick that still tented my shorts. I couldn't control it, not when I had an attractive, naked girl before me. It didn't help that I'd removed my shirt when I bathed her, so apart from my shorts and slippers, I was near naked too. I tried, I really did, to be chaste in my washing and drying of her but I know I spent more time than necessary on her pert breasts and genitals but I certainly didn't neglect her blisters either even though the gentlest of touches caused her further pain. 

During the time in the bathroom, our conversation was restricted to monosyllabic instructions and answers but before entering my bedroom she hesitantly asked, "John? Are you going to...have sex with me?" The last part came out in a hurry. 

"Not until you're healed and then only if you want to." That seemed to satisfy her and she laid herself face down on my bed and allowed me to smear Nivea cream, the only cream I had, on her welts. 

A fresh outburst of crying stopped me from leaving her and letting her rest. "What is going to happen to me now?" Will I be sent away? Sent back to mother? I found those books you know, I didn't buy them." 

"I know you didn't. From the colour of the paper, they are old and have been well used. We'll worry about the books some other time but the question of what will happen to you is one I cannot answer at the moment. Too much depends on your mother and whether or not she wants you to return..." 

"I'm not going back!" 

"I understand that and you are old enough, just, to be able to decide that for yourself. If she tries to make you return, then I have the photos on my mobile to show what she did." 

"You took more?" 

"Just before I put the cream on. I doubt she will insist because I suspect that when she calms down, she'll realise she could be put away for abuse. We will have to go back to get your stuff, if you decide to stay here, however long that may be. It will take a while for you to heal and to walk normally and certainly you won't be going to school on Monday." 

"I finished High School yesterday and am going to college in September. You won't mind my staying?" 

That was a stupid question. How would I miss a chance to have a young girl in bed with me? "Of course not Terri, at least until you recover and can think clearly enough to make up your own mind." 

"Will I have too...?" 

I knew sex was on her mind and I doubted she'd had any previous experience but I didn't want to mislead her into thinking she could stay without my putting a move on her. "Terri, I have only the one bedroom in use and one bed, the double bed you are lying on. I don't intend to sleep on cushions on the floor or the couch and you are not in a fit state to do so. Tonight, and while you are here we'll sleep together but until you are healed, I will not attempt to have sex with you although, like now, I will probably get aroused by your being alongside me." She glanced at my crotch and blushed. "Even when you are healed I won't force you but I will try and seduce you. It will be up to you whether or not we fuck." I deliberately used the F word. Again she blushed but just acknowledged my remark with a nod. 
 

******* 
 

That night as I lay naked alongside her, she began to talk more freely than she had all day, perhaps the semi-darkness of the room helped by giving us a modicum of anonymity and the fierce pain had eased to a dull ache. She'd lain quietly on the bed all morning hardly daring to move and I know she dozed a little, probably from the after effects of her ordeal and from the prescription painkillers I'd had over from an injury a year ago. Mid morning I saw her mother leave in her car and didn't return until we were abed and I wondered if she was trying to keep out of our way. At lunchtime I woke Terri and insisted she get up and move some of her muscles even though it pained her to do so. Lunch was eaten standing and afterwards she laid on the couch to watch TV dressed only in her robe and an old pair of moccasins that I'd put some foam in to make them small enough for her feet. At dinnertime I again made her get up and walk around and, thinking that it would make her feel part of the 'family' as well as distracting her from the pain, I suggested she help me cook the meal. It was again back to the couch and the TV for most of the evening, although I doubt she actually saw the programmes. Gradually I learned a little more about her, how she did at school, what friends she had and some of her interests out of school but nothing about the incident that caused her mother to beat her so badly. I didn't question her but bided my time until she was ready. In bed facing me and with only the dim light of the street lamp coming though the curtains, the time seemed right and she opened her soul to me. Tears began to flow again and I longed to hold her close but didn't dare because my erection pressing against her stomach might spook her. She knew about it as we had showered together before bed and she'd had a good look at my prick but never touched it. Later she admitted that she thought it was enormous but it is pretty much the standard 6 inches, neither small nor porn star in size. 

"I did find those books John," she reiterated what she'd told me earlier, "I found a box of them in the hedge along the field path from school. I knew such books existed from stories at school and I even got a glimpse of one a boy dropped but he quickly picked it up and I only saw the cover. I'd never had one in my hands or read one so I was somewhat excited and curious about those I found and hid three of them in my backpack. The others I hid more securely in the hedge. I knew mother would have a fit if she found them and I hid them under the bottom drawer of my tallboy and that night I snuggled under the bedclothes and read them by torchlight." 

"And they made you horny?" 

"You'll think I really am a slut if I say yes... but they did, in fact I could hardly stop reading them. They were all about slavery and bondage and in a way I could see myself in some of the characters. I was almost a slave to a mother who punishes me for the least wrong, pretending that it was God's will that I should suffer for my sins. The words got me really wet and I had to play with myself until I'd climaxed several times. Over the next few days I smuggled the rest of the books into my room and avidly read them. I knew it was sinful, I knew it was wrong and that mother would spank me if I was caught so I was really careful but I couldn't resist the temptation of the pleasurable feelings the words brought in my body." 

"And played with yourself and imagined you were in the stories each time?" I saw her nod as if ashamed to admit it but I supposed our situation was akin to those in the books and it was almost as if she were forced into telling me the truth. "This morning you got caught?" 

"Yes. Mother never gets up early on a Saturday so I think she found the books last Thursday while I was at school because they weren't quite as I left them. She must have waited until today when she knew I wouldn't have to go to school for a while. This morning I got up and went to the bathroom and when I got back to my room, I took my nightdress off and started to read and play with myself. The morning was bright so there was plenty of light to read by but as the air was a bit chilly I put my robe on and left the front completely undone. Next thing I knew the door flew open and in stormed mother with the belt already in her hand. I tried to escape but only got as far as the kitchen before she grabbed me and flung me over the table and started to flay my bottom until you came." She paused before continuing, "Do you think I'm a slut? What will happen now?" 

"No, you're not a slut, just a normal girl with normal sexual feelings, feelings your mother has tried to suppress and make you feel guilty about. I would guess that most girls fantasise about being held captive and forced to please a master but I doubt many would hold to those fantasies if they were whipped and raped in actual reality. Some go part way and play at bondage with mild spanking and such to liven up the sex lives but few go beyond that. So no, you're not a slut, just a normal sexy girl." Despite my misgivings about her feeling my prick against her body, I pulled her into a close hug and kissing her before releasing my grasp and trying to answer the other question. Since she'd asked it earlier, I'd had time to think of a possible plan. 

"What happens now depends to some extent on your mother and on you. You hold the trump card. With the marks on your body and the evidence we have, you can force your mother to agree to anything in order to save her from going to prison. However, you may not wish the scandal and trauma of a court hearing so it will probably be better if you hold that card unless you are forced to play it. You largely have the choice of what to do next. You could return home, if your mother would even have you back, but you've already said you don't wish that. As far as I am concerned, you are welcome to stay here and I've told you what that might mean, or you could take the abuse route and get yourself put into care or maybe at your age, they might let you live in a refuge on your own. Those choices are yours, at least that's how I see them." She expressed the desire to stay with me so I went on, "What I suggest we do next is, in the morning we to go to your home and collect your belongings. I'll go with you and if necessary we'll have to use the threat of our trump card to get in. I'll need to do some clearing here so you've somewhere to store your stuff until you finally decide whether or not to stay. It's far too early in a relationship to say it is going to be permanent but if we live together for a few weeks or months, then we'll know better providing we take precautions so that you do not become pregnant." 

"I'm not on the pill...Mother wouldn't..." 

"I have condoms and can buy more on Monday but getting you on the pill would be a better long term option unless there are problems for you. I earn enough to keep us if we're not extravagant, but we may have to try and supplement our income in order to pay for college." We discussed the issues pretty rationally until late and we drifted off into a disturbed sleep. Terri several times involuntarily rolled on to her back and woke up crying out with the pain and I had to apply more cream and in the early hours, gave her more painkillers but, after another soak in the bath next morning, she seemed much improved at least until she had to move. 

As a result of our discussions the previous night, I typed a note and popped it though our neighbour's letterbox stating that we would call round after she returned from church to pick up Terri's clothing and stuff and ended with, 'Should our entry be barred or any attempt at further physical violence made or her things destroyed, we shall ask the police to intervene'. Fortunately that didn't prove necessary although her mother stood silently with arms folded and glared at our every move. Of course I had to do most of the work because Terri still couldn't walk easily or carry anything heavy. Her mother looked anxious but didn't show any pity for her daughter's pain and I'm sure that in her own mind, she thought she had done the right thing by thrashing her daughter for being so wicked. Indeed, as we left for the last time, with venom in her voice she spat, "Keep the whore, that's all she's fit for. There's no place in a God-fearing house for the likes of her!" 
 
****** 
 
We've been together a month now and more or less learned to live together harmoniously. Terri's bruises have all but disappeared and she can walk and run normally. For our first two nights, we just slept close together and it was only on the third night that she was sufficiently free of pain to start sexually exploring each other but it was almost a week before we fucked and that opened the tide gates and most nights, and some days, we've made passionate love and tried many positions, including some gleaned from the slavery books but we've not done anything to hurt each other. However a week ago we started to read them to each other and found it increased our libido and the intensity of our lovemaking. 

We see her mother quite often in the garden or getting into her car but she always ignores us and we do not speak. Even the priest in charge of her church could not reconcile her and Terri and, although he spent several hours trying to persuade Terri to return to the church and find a place where she could live 'without sin', he failed to do so. Our love had grown strong enough to prevent him breaking the bond. 

What will happen in the future? I have no illusions that things might change when she goes to college or university and meets other young people and other young men, but at the moment, our lives are tightly interlinked and I hope they will remain that way. 
 

Finis 
 



