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
