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.