The Rescue MissionbySubmissiveRomantic©
By Submissive Romanticedited by Michael-Leonard
I grew up in the Valley of the Sun; Phoenix, Arizona to be more precise. My mother, father, an older brother and me, we lived at what was then the most northern part of Phoenix, in a small house on a very large tract of desert land. My childhood was anything but normal. You see my dad was a drunk, an abusive drunk at that. As soon as my brother turned eighteen, he left the house and joined the Marines. After serving for four years, he returned to Phoenix, and went to work for the Maricopa County Sheriff's Department. I was thirteen when he left home; I became the target of my father's abusive ways. Mom tried her best to protect me whenever she could, but she was not a strong woman.
One night I came home late for supper. My father tried to beat me; mom got in between us. He shifted his anger on to her, hitting her repeatedly. I ran to the phone and called the police. By the time they arrived, mom was lying in a pool of blood; dead. My father was taken away in handcuffs and pleaded guilty to a second-degree murder charge. I was sent east to live with my mother's sister and her family in New Jersey.
Surprisingly, I did well in school, got good grades, but was exceptionally shy around girls. I was a computer geek. I didn't have a pocket protector or thick black-framed glasses with tape in the middle; in fact, I was pretty good-looking, small in stature, about five foot six and one hundred thirty five pounds. I just found more comfort in reacting with my computer than with people, especially girls.
After graduation, I attended Rutgers University, majoring in computer science. I really enjoyed writing programs and designing systems. During my senior year I met a girl. Michelle was a very special person. She was smart, funny, caring and very pretty. What she saw in me I'll never know. We dated for about six months and after graduation got married. Michelle went to work for a CPA firm as a junior accountant, while I joined a company that designed systems for large corporations.
After a couple of years, I was frustrated with the bureaucracy and politics within the firm. We decided that I should start my own company; working with small to mid-sized businesses, designing systems and writing programs. Now I was truly happy; I was my own boss, worked from home, and choose the work I wanted to do. I also wrote and designed programs, with no client in mind. They were just ideas that came into my head. I applied for and received several patents; most of these were worthless, but they were mine.
Michelle and I were very happy. Life was good. We decided it was time to begin a family. After a year of trying, however, all we had was some very happy memories. We decided that we should both have physicals to determine if there were any problems.
We got the bad news a few weeks later. I was fine: the problem was within Michelle, and it was bad; ovarian cancer. I held her hand as the doctor explained that the cancer was causing problems with her reproductive cycle and that he recommended seeing a specialist to determine the best treatments. He did, however, schedule a complete body CAT scan to determine if the cancer had spread anywhere else.
The meeting with the specialist was even more depressing. The cancer had spread to her liver. The prognosis was grim; she had probably a year maybe two with extensive chemotherapy. We went home that night, held each other tight, and tried to determine what was the best course of action. Michelle did not want the chemo treatment.
"I would rather have a better life for a shorter period, than to live a little longer in misery."
Reluctantly, I agreed with her decision.
She continued to work for a while, then when she began to lose weight and started feeling pain, she quit to stay home with me. I farmed-out as much of my work as I could and spent what little time remained with her. When it was determined that the end was near, we had hospice workers come to the house and stay with her, making her as comfortable as possible. Then it was over. I lost my wife, my lover, my best friend.
It took some time, but I was finally able to get back to work. I spent almost all of my time working on various projects. I tried to let work fill the void in my life. That's when I got the letter. It was from an attorney in Phoenix. It said that my father had died in prison, and that I had to come back to Phoenix to settle his estate.
My brother met me at the airport and we drove to the attorney's office for the reading of the will. The will basically left the proceeds of a fifty thousand dollar life insurance policy to my brother, and the house and the land to me. There was a letter written by my father addressed to us; it must have been written in prison. In it he apologized for the abuse and the beatings he gave us. He apologized for taking our mother away from us; and that he understood why William had left. It sounded sincere; it was tough to hate him after that. We signed some paperwork, and left. On the ride back to Bill's house, we both
decided that we had no feelings for him one way or the other. Sad.
The next day, I flew back home. For the next month or so, everything got back to normal. Then within a two-week period I received two letters that would change the direction of my life forever.
The first was from a large developer in Scottsdale, Arizona inquiring about the availability of the Phoenix property. The other was from a law office representing a very large software development company inquiring about the availability of one of my patents. The letter about the land I filed away for later consideration. The second got me curious.
I went back through my old files to determine what the patent was for; then began to investigate the software company and why they would be interested in that particular patent. I had a copy of their latest version of their widely used software. With that and a key to the source code that I received from a friend in the business -- probably obtained illegally -- I found something very interesting indeed. It appeared that their software was infringing on my patent. Apparently, someone in their organization had not done their homework in a timely fashion and, now that the software was released, they had to either get the rights to use it from me, paying me royalties, or buy it outright. In either case, it could mean a very big payday for me.
That night, as I lay in bed, I thought about my Michelle, my future, and the direction that my life should take. There was nothing holding me here. If everything worked out, I would have more money than I could ever spend. The only family that I had left was my brother back in Arizona. I wanted to do something for others, to get involved in something meaningful, something worthwhile. I couldn't sleep, so I turned on the TV. I was watching some cop show, a rerun about runaways living on the street, young girls turning to prostitution to survive. Then it hit me. That's what I could do; that's a worthwhile goal. If I could take young girls off the street, give them a chance to get their lives straightened out, get them educated and able to support themselves legally -- in essence, rescue them -- that would be a noble cause indeed.
With that goal in mind, I spent the next couple of days planning. Then I made a phone call to the software company's attorney.
"I want to have a meeting with the CEO," I said.
"That's impossible; it's just not done that way."
"It will be done that way if he wants to avoid a patent infringement lawsuit."
"I'll get back to you," he said after a brief moment of silence.
A week later I had my meeting. The CEO knew that I had them over a barrel. They could delay, draw a lawsuit out forever, but in the end, I would win and it would cost them a fortune, plus a ton of bad publicity, which no CEO wants for his company.
"What do you want?"
"I want you to buy my company which holds the patent."
He sat there pondering the decision. For him or his company it was chump change.
"What would you do with the money if I agreed to your terms?"
I told him of my plans. We talked about it for about a half an hour, than after a period of silence. He stood, shook my hand and said, "I'll have my attorneys draw up an offer sheet. You should get it in a couple of days. Good Luck!"
I flew back to New Jersey that night. True to his word, I received an offer sheet for my company for fifty million dollars. There was also an envelope addressed to me personally containing a check for one million dollars from his foundation with a letter requesting that I keep him informed as to the progress I was making. I had my attorney review the offer, prepare the paperwork for the sale of the company, and set up a not-for-profit corporation so that I could deposit donation checks when I was ready.
The transaction was completed through the attorneys a few weeks later. I was officially unemployed and, after taxes, about thirty-eight million dollars richer.
Now it was time to get started on phase two of my plan. I set up a meeting with the president of the development company. I had an offer to present to him. I had discovered that the reason his company wanted my land was because he owned an even larger tract of land adjacent to mine. Through the right of eminent domain, the state had taken a small but very important piece of that land for a highway extension. Now, the only access to his property was through mine.
I think he was shocked when I made him my offer. What I wanted in exchange for the property was the following: one, his company would pay for the subdivision of the property into two parcels; two, his company would knock down the old house and build a new one; three, I could choose the floor plan for the house from any of those being proposed for his project; four, I would be able to join the home owners association and have use of all the facilities just like all the other members; and five, the company would have to pay me one dollar for the parcel of his choosing.
"Is that all you want?"
We stood and shook hands. I think, in his mind, I had just saved him a hell of a lot of money. We went back to his private office and had a drink while he showed me the all of the house plans he had available. I chose a 2,400 square foot house with an open floor plan. The living room dining room and kitchen were all combined into one spacious central room. Off to one side was the master bedroom suite, which included a large bedroom and a huge bathroom with a sunken spa tub and a large separate shower. On the other side of the bathroom was a large walk-in closet. The other side of the house consisted of a large guest bedroom, a bathroom with a private entrance from the bedroom and an entrance from the hall, and a large den, with a small office on the side. There was an oversized two-car garage at the front of the house. You entered the house through what looked like a bell tower, into a courtyard, which was surrounded by the rest of the house. The whole floor plan was laid out in an almost perfect square, approximately fifty feet by forty-eight feet.
It would take about a year to get everything accomplished. In the mean time I went back to New Jersey to sell my place, pack my possessions and have everything moved to a storage facility in Phoenix. I stayed with my brother and his family for the last couple of months before the house was completed. I told them all about what I planned to do with the rest of my life. My brother and I discussed how we were going to get the girls off the streets. I wanted to do it one at a time. I felt that would give me the highest rate of success. I knew I would lose some along the way.
Two months later I moved my things out of storage, bought some additional furniture, had the house professionally decorated, and finally moved in. I had one final thing to do. The day I moved out of my brother's house, I handed him a large envelope. I told him not to open it for twenty-four hours. My cell started ringing fifteen minutes after I left.
"I knew you couldn't do it," I answered with a chuckle.
"We can't accept this."
"Too late it's already done. Think of it as prepaid compensation for everything I'm going to ask you to do in the future." With that I hung up. In the envelope was the deed to his house and the paid-off mortgage; and trust documents setting up an education fund for his kids with two hundred thousand dollars.
I felt confident this was going to work.
I had given my brother a general guideline as to the qualifications for entering the program. They had to be homeless, of course; drug-free because I didn't think I could handle a druggy by myself; and between the ages of sixteen and eighteen. If they were younger than 16, they would be in the program too long; if they were older they were already adults and there were other agencies out there that they could go to for help. I wanted them when they were still of high school age so that I could get them back in the educational system maybe even through college. The money for their room and board would come from my personal funds so that no one could accuse me of living off the not- for-profit foundation. The funds that came in from private contributions would be used to pay for their education expenses. All tuition bills would come to me for approval and be paid by that educational fund.
One week later I had my first girl. Bill had called me the night before with the news that he had picked up a girl from the streets early that evening, that she fit the profile, and that she was in a holding cell for the night. The next morning he picked her up and drove her to my house. He stayed while I conducted a short interview. I found out her name was Katie, she was almost eighteen years old, and that she had run away from home in Alabama two months before. Katie had been heading to California when she ran out of money. She was stuck here with no money, no friends, and had been begging on the streets for handouts. She was a scared little girl. When I suggested that we call her parents she freaked out on us.
"No, please I can't go back there. Please don't send me back, Please I'll do anything you ask."
"Easy, easy, no one is going to send you back."
"When was the last time you were in school? What grade?"
"Two months ago; I was a junior. I always got good grades."
"OK, here is what is going to happen; we're going to try to get you enrolled into school here in September as a senior. You will stay here. You'll have your own room. We will eat together and study together. You will decide whether or not you want to go to college. If you decide to go, all your room, board and tuition and books will be paid for. If you decide that college is not for you, I will help you get a job and set you up in an apartment. At that point you will be expected to live on your own. I will always be available for you, but you will have to do it on your own. The alternative is that Officer Carpenter will return you to where he picked you up last night and you will be on your own. What do you say?"
"Thank you, I won't let you down."
"Good. Now, first things first; do you have any spare clothes?"
"Yes, another pair of jeans and a football jersey."
"Good. Give me them. I'll put them in the wash, while you go take a shower. Then, after you've showered, we'll go shopping for some new clothes."
I led her to her bedroom, showed her how to work the shower. I was a little amused as I heard her shut and lock the doors to the bathroom. I guess two months on the streets had taught her to be wary of everyone. I said goodbye to Bill.
"Jack I hope you know what you're getting yourself into."
"So do I, Bill. So do I."
So began my first rescue. I was able to get Katie enrolled in high school, after I got a copy of her transcript from her old school. It's amazing what a little money in the right hands can do. She was a good student and did well. I never asked why she left home, and she never offered to tell me. But I knew it must have been something bad. This was a good kid; not a troublemaker, nor a wild one out of control.
One night, a week after her eighteenth birthday, after a particularly tough evening of homework I told Katie I was calling it a night. It was tough for me because it had been almost ten years since I had to do homework,
"Go ahead, Uncle Jack, I'll close up after I watch a little TV."
I went to my room, brushed my teeth, took off my clothes and climbed into bed. I had gotten used to sleeping only in my briefs. Sleep came quickly. I had a wonderful dream about Michelle. We were in bed after making love, I was holding her, we were naked, spooned together, and everything about it was so detailed. I could almost feel the heat of her body against mine.
My eyes flew open. There in my arms was Katie. I could smell the scent of her shampoo, feel her warmth, the way her body moved as she breathed. I started to panic when I realized that I was erect; my cock was pushing against her ass. Thank god she was dressed in a long nightshirt. I tried to slip my arm out from under her pillow, as I forced my hips back away from her.
"Please don't leave. I needed to be held, I had a bad dream... it was about back home."
"Katie, this isn't right. I'm your guardian. We can't be in bed together."
"Please, just hold me for a little while."
Reluctantly, I slid my arm back under her pillow, and held her around the waist with the other, trying my best to keep my lower body away from her.
"Mmmm, I like that. Jack, thank you for everything, for saving me from the streets. The reason I ran away was that my stepfather started raping me right after I turned seventeen. He would come into my room at night after Mom was asleep. He forced me to have oral sex. At first he threatened to beat me if I didn't pleasure him; then he threatened to kill my mom and me. One night he came into my room, pulled me to the side of the bed, turned me over and took me from behind. In the morning, we all sat at the table having breakfast, as if nothing ever happened. I had to get away before he could do it again. I
threw some clothes into a bag, grabbed what little money I had, and instead of walking to school, I ran."
"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. You're safe here, nothing like that can happen here." I held her tightly in order to comfort her. The problem was that it felt good for me also. It had been three years since Michelle had died, and I had forgotten how good holding a woman – even a young woman – could feel. I tried to back off as my erection began to grow, but she turned her body to me and slipped her hand into my shorts.
"Jack, please I need you now. I need you to make it right, to help me forget how dirty I felt."
With that, all my willpower vanished and I kissed her. The passion that I had hidden deep within me came rushing to the surface. Clothes were discarded. My eyes feasted on her body.
"Katie, are you protected," I managed to whisper, as she returned my kisses.
"Yes. Please, I can't wait any longer."
I laid her on her back, and slowly entered her. After a couple of strokes, I held her and rolled over dragging her over me. I wanted her to be in control. She could stop, if she wanted, at anytime.
She never stopped. I looked at her face above me, her eyes were closed, an expression of pure joy on her face. I began to roll her nipples between my fingers. She moaned and dropped lower, offering her nipple for me to suck. I whipped it with my tongue; and was rewarded for my efforts with more moans, as she increased her pace. I wasn't going to last much longer. I grabbed her ass in an effort to get as much contact as possible. Then we were both cumming. I opened my eyes, hers were completely shut, her mouth open in a silent scream. Then we both collapsed and held each other close.