Santa's Little Helper Ch. 04

Santa's Little Helper - Ch. 04

© 2026 Bad Hobbit

Nina was lying next to me, her makeup smeared, her spiky hair in disarray, and looking beautiful. Earlier, we'd had our second ever episode of anal sex. She'd enjoyed our first session on New Year's Eve, but she said it had made her arse feel stretched and a little sore afterwards, so we'd cleaned up and then snuggled down and slept. Later, we'd been woken from our post-coital - post-sodomy? - slumbers by some loud bangs outside, which startled Nina awake.

"What...?"

"Fireworks. Happy New Year, sweetie. Do you want to take a look?"

"Hah! I think we've had enough banging for one night. Hold me again, Frank. And Frank? Frank, I - I just wanted to tell you something. I - I love you."

My heart skipped a beat. "Nina, it's - it's completely inappropriate, but, but - I love you too."

We kissed. And kept kissing for some time, until I was hard and she was juicy, whereupon we resolved into a slow, romantic sixty-nine, ending with my face covered in pussy juices and her mouth full of my cum. After a quick clean-up, we settled back down again, kissed and said goodnight.

Over breakfast, she told me that her arse was still feeling rather sore and stretched. "It was so good, having your cock up there and making me come like that, but I don't think I can do it again today. Maybe we should try again tomorrow?" The breezy way that she seemed to be not only accepting but welcoming sodomy was surprising - and delightful.

She phoned home to wish her mother and siblings a Happy New Year. "I nearly asked them to put Gerry on so I could tell him to fuck right off, but I thought I'd better not," she told me afterwards. Then she came up to me, hugged and kissed me. "Happy New Year, Frank. And I meant what I said."

"So did I. Happy New Year, sweetie, and I do really love you."

For the rest of that day, we did normal things. We went for a walk, watched a couple of films on TV, had a light lunch and a more elaborate supper, and cuddled a lot - something she really seemed to enjoy, and I relished. That evening, we went to bed early, and limited our sexual adventures to oral, and - at her insistence - some more bondage. I tied her, bent over the bed, and indulged in some light spanking, at her request. I hate violence. Hurting someone defenceless is, in my book, one of the worst crimes imaginable, so I was very reluctant to provide more than the lightest smacks to her delightful buttocks. "You can do it harder, you know," she protested.

"Yes, I could, but I won't. Content yourself with this, little minx."

I then proceeded to finger-fuck her tight little arsehole, which had mostly returned to its correct size, while stroking her clit until she moaned, screamed, and came. I love to feel a woman's arse throb like that. Then she insisted I tie her hands behind her back while I used her mouth. The sensible, empathetic me would have been appalled at what the insensible, pathetic me did when driven to sexual fervour by a pretty young girl with mascara streaks down her face, making hawking noises as I penetrated her throat to the max.

Then, out of contrition, I tied her spreadeagled face down and again subjected her to thirty minutes of teasing and delicate stimulation until she was writhing in her bonds and begging me to make her come. This time, I used a vibrator on her clit while rimming her sweet arse. I swear she squirted - at least, there was a lot of fluid around.

Having determined that keeping out of Gerry Pascoe's way was the best policy, she remained at my place. We had a leisurely start, with some gentle hugs and kisses before and after breakfast, deciding to delay any sex until later.

After lunch, as I was going through some documents about Kewstoke House, the children's home where I was about to become the manager, she came up to me, put her arms around me, kissed my neck and whispered, "My arse is hungry again, Frank. I'm going to shower. I suggest you do so after me, and then get ready to feed it." Grinning impishly, she skipped away to the bathroom.

When I arrived in our bedroom, naked and still damp from the shower, she was lying on the bed in a pair of hold-up stockings she'd bought on her trip to Ann Summers. Then, after a prolonged session of oral sex - me eating her pussy, her just lightly sucking my cock - she'd eased out the plug she'd fitted earlier and I slowly, carefully and almost romantically, explored her arse with my rubber-sheathed cock for the second time. We tried it in the 'spoons' position, recommended as a beginners' method to prevent accidentally penetrating too fast or too far. After a while, she'd moved into doggy, saying that 'spoons' felt nice but she wanted something harder and deeper. I held on for long enough to feel her come, just before I couldn't take any more.

I went back to my work preparation, and encouraged Nina to read some of her training materials, and a couple of hours later, I prepared us a light supper - just some salmon and a few vegetables - and opened a bottle of wine.

"You know," she said after finishing her second glass, "This anal thing is getting addictive. I was just thinking about what we did earlier, and - and my pussy's already wet. See?"

She stood up, lifted her skirt with one hand, indicating she'd dispensed with panties, and guided my fingers into her slit with the other.

"Frank, can we do it again? Pretty please?" She gave me a pleading look. I carefully adjusted my swelling erection in my pants and followed her to the bedroom.

She insisted on getting me hard with her mouth, and then spreading her legs wide and thrusting her pussy into my face. The buzzing of the anal plug, now Nina's favourite sex toy, that she'd inserted as soon as she could, was noticeable through my lips and tongue as I probed her pussy hole and lapped around all the soft crinkles of her sweet, pink valley. I was reaching up and pulling on a nipple - she'd explained that, when she was aroused and her nipples were hard, she liked them to be pulled and pinched - while cupping the other breast in my other hand, as she rode my face.

"Now, Frank. I need it now."

"What?" I teased. Pervert that I am, I just wanted to hear her say it.

"I want your cock up my arse. I want you to fuck it. Go slow, but go deep. Cum inside me."

I reached beneath her and slowly extracted the plug, and she whimpered as the thick bulge of the toy stretched her tight sphincter. Then she shuffled back and reached for the lube - and started applying it to my cock.

"What about a condom?" I asked.

"No time. Gotta have it now. I want to try it - like this," she said breathlessly, taking hold of my rigid shaft, placing its tip against the tight, pink starfish of her arse, and pushing down. I watched her face, the look of concentration and what looked like determination, despite possible pain or discomfort, as she slowly impaled herself on me. She let out a few anguished grunts and cries, which concerned me. I was also worried that I might not be able to control my own route to climax when the textures of Nina's tight, elastic rectum were stimulating me directly, not through rubber.

"Baby, we don't need..."

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Frank," she grunted as, squatting over me, she pressed the tightest hole in her delicious little body firmly onto my cock. I was looking straight into her spread, pink, wet pussy, gazing up at her sweet, full titties, and feeling my naked cock being squeezed and stroked harder than ever before. It was only my slightly anguished thoughts about how utterly wrong this was, and what would happen to me if anyone ever found out, that dulled the sensations enough to stop me blowing my load instantly.

And then my cock-head was through the sphincter, and was captive inside her deliciously hot, slippery and supremely tight arse. She removed the hand that had guided me in, leaning back on both arms, and commenced the slow descent onto my erect penis. Her self-sodomisation was one of the most erotic things I'd ever witnessed, and I reluctantly closed my eyes to prevent what might be called 'early release'.

Instinctively, I moved my hands up to grip her hips, helping her ride the rod that was rogering her rectum, lifting her so that its bulbous knob provided the stimulation I knew she craved to the inside of her ring, and then, allowing her body weight to drive it ever deeper into her dark tunnel. Her face wore a strange expression, a mixture of concentration and amazement. Her eyelids fluttered, her mouth fell open, and she moaned, squealed, whined, and sobbed.

And then she gasped, "OH FUCK!" as her buttocks landed on my hips, and I fought hard to avoid coming; biting my lip, screwing up my eyes, and distracting my brain. Now was not the time to paint the inside of Nina's bowels with an off-white, sticky coating. Not yet, anyway.

She looked down at my face, then further down, taking in the view of her naked, vulnerable and wide-open body impaled on my cock in the dirtiest and naughtiest of holes. And then she laughed.

"Fuck, Frank, you're - you're balls-deep in - in my arse! I'm a total fucking anal slut, aren't I?"

I gritted my teeth. Shit, I was so close to coming, and her behaviour and language were not helping me hold back.

"Nina, you're - you're amazing. Just - just let me - catch my breath and - and get back some control before - before you drain my balls!"

She laughed. "You're a wimp, old man! Stop complaining: I'm the one with a cock up my arse. Show some respect for my adventurous nature!"

"And you; show some respect for my grey hairs."

"I'm respecting them. Some are tickling the back of my pussy right now!" She grinned. "But OK, old man; time for my arse to take advantage of your cock. Ready?"

The next five minutes were, frankly, mind-blowing. She rode her arse up and down my dick, while looking me straight in the eye. At the top of her travel, I could feel the pull on my cock-head as it tugged on her ring, and I watched her astonished expression as she savoured the sensation. And then it was my turn to enjoy the amazing grip of her tight rectum as she descended, quite rapidly, again and again. I had my hand over her sparse bush, my thumb on her clit, desperately trying to force her to orgasm before me. However, unsheathed as I was, I knew that was going to be difficult. I clung on as she moaned and gasped more of her deliciously obscene verbalisations, before she tipped me over the edge. Having her ride my slowly-softening, post-orgasmic cock with her amazingly tight arse was excruciating, but I gritted my teeth and kept rubbing her clit until I felt the unmistakable throb that told me I'd got her there too. A minute later and she collapsed on top of me.

"Fuck, that was good!" she sighed.

My cock slipped out of her arse, followed by a sticky stream of semen. After a couple of minutes, we took turns cleaning ourselves up in the en-suite, before returning to bed for a sleepy cuddle.

*****

And then, around two AM, all Hell broke loose when her phone by the bedside rang. She picked it up and with a shocked expression, showed the name on the display: Gemma. She pressed the green key and, immediately after, the 'Mute' button, then put the phone on speaker.

"... it'll feel nice, I promise.." I heard a male voice say.

Alarmed, Nina quickly scrolled to the recording app and switched it on. I went for my own phone. If, as we suspected, we were listening to an attempt at child sexual abuse in real time, I had to call the police.

"Go away, Gerry. You're drunk, and I don't want you anywhere near me!" we heard Gemma reply.

Nina continued to listen as I headed onto the landing, trying to pull on my jeans while I had my phone gripped between my ear and my shoulder.

"Nine nine nine. Which service do you require?"

"Police. Urgently. We need to prevent a child rape. A teenage girl is being sexually assaulted."

"Oh. Can you give me the address?"

I quickly reeled it off.

"And can I have your details, please?"

"Frank Parker. I'm - I'm a care home manager." I gave her my address. "A young woman who is sheltering at my house has just received a clandestine phone call from her sister, who is being sexually abused by her stepfather. Chief Inspector Wallace is aware of the case. Please get some officers there as soon as possible, ideally without blues and twos - we don't want the perpetrator to do a runner. We're heading there now."

"Sir, please leave this to the police. They can..."

"I'll speak to them when I'm there. I'm a child support officer, and I know the family. Please dispatch someone urgently." I rang off. Well, I had been a child support officer, so I knew what was involved, even though that role had lapsed with my previous employment.

Nina was still holding the phone as we jumped into the car.

"Gemma! Gemma, what - what's he doing?" The frightened voice of little Lily was a little distant but audible.

"Lily, run and get Mummy," I could hear Gemma say.

There was a little shriek, and then Gerry's slurred voice. "Do as I say, or I'll hurt her."

"Leave her alone, you brute!" Gemma's voice was becoming desperate. We heard Lily scream.

"Time to unmute," I said to Nina. "Hold the phone up close to my mouth."

"Gerry Pascoe? Gerry, listen to me. We've heard everything. The police are on their way. Leave the kids alone."

"What? What the fuck have you done, you little bitch?"

"Don't you dare touch the kids!" I shouted. "We've been listening in, and we have it all recorded. You're fucked, Gerry. The cops'll be there any moment, and you have nowhere to run. Go downstairs, leave the kids alone, and give yourself up. If you hurt any of them, or their mother, you'll be in even deeper trouble."

"Who the fuck is this?" he snarled.

"Someone who's going to make sure you never hurt a girl or woman, ever again," I replied.

"Cunt!" he shouted back.

"Yes, you've called me that before, because I've stopped you from hurting vulnerable girls. You've gone too far this time. And nonces don't do well in prison."

As soon as I said that, I regretted it. A desperate man will do desperate things.

The traffic lights ahead of us turned amber. I put my foot down and surged ahead. A moment later, a flashing blue light appeared behind me. Shit!

"Evening, sir. Do you know what speed..."

"Officer, I'm on my way to try to prevent a child rape. I think that's slightly more important than speeding. I'm going to drive off now, and I suggest you follow me and help arrest the perpetrator. And afterwards, you and I can have a chat with Chief Inspector Wallace about this. But now, my priority is stopping a young girl suffering serious sexual assault!"

I closed the window and drove away, hoping that the police would follow.

When we arrived at the house, there was a patrol car, blue lights flashing, and two uniformed coppers standing on the front path to the house, about three or four metres from Gerry, who was holding Lily, with a knife to her throat. Fuck! The kid was clearly terrified.

"Put the knife down, sir. We don't want anyone to get hurt," one of the officers was saying.

Nina and I ran up to join them.

"Gerry. Put the knife down and let Lily go. You're not going to get away, and the more harm you do, the worse things will go for you."

One of the officers turned to me. "Sorry, sir. Who are you?"

"A friend of the family and a child-support officer," I replied, almost automatically. "And also a friend of Chief Inspector Wallace, who is tracking the case. Now let's see, officer, if we can resolve this situation without any harm coming to anyone."

At that moment, Nina's mother appeared in the doorway in a tatty dressing gown. "Gerry! What are you doing?"

"They're trying to stitch me up! I didn't do nothin'" Gerry bleated.

"Then - then why are you holding Lily like that?" she replied.

"Look, you. You fucking back off!" he growled, swinging the knife around to point at Nina's mother, who shrieked.

And the next thing I knew, Nina darted between the two policemen and grabbed Lily, and pulled her out of Gerry's arms. And then cried out as she was slashed across the shoulder by her stepfather, lashing out. The police officers rushed in and prevented the arsehole from inflicting further injury, as I threw my arms around Nina and dragged her away from the fracas.

One of the cops who'd followed me produced a first aid kit with a large dressing that he slapped over Nina's stab wound. Meanwhile, cursing and kicking, Gerry was manhandled into the police car.

"Bitches! Fucking bitches! You lying cunts!" he ranted as the police cuffed him. "I didn't do nothin'! It's all fucking lies!"

Nina's face showed the pain she was suffering from the knife wound, as I held her. Lily was hugging her legs, and then Gemma joined us in a huddle.

I took Nina to A&E, which was rather crowded in the early hours of the morning, but not before getting all of the kids into my car and suggesting to the police that they take the mother in for questioning. "Make sure you remove anything she could use to self-harm, and keep her on suicide watch. I think she's in the throes of meltdown."

The doctors looked at Nina's wound, which fortunately wasn't deep, cleaned it and stitched it. I sat with the younger kids and played games with them while their big sister was being treated, and then I drove us all back to my place.

"OK, kids, we're staying here tonight."

"Where's Mummy?" Lily asked.

"She's being looked after, and you'll see her soon. Tonight, you're going to have a sleepover, here at my house, with Nina. In a few hours, I can get us all breakfast, but first we all need to sleep. Nina, I won't ask you to do much, given your shoulder injury, but can you show Gemma how to fix some drinks and maybe some snacks for your siblings while I sort things upstairs? I suggest you and Lily sleep in my bed tonight - I'll move your things into my room - and Gemma and George in your room. There's a single bed in the spare room where I'll go tonight, and we can sort things out in the morning."

I changed the sheets on the bed in which I'd so recently sodomised Nina. There were some tell-tale stains, so it was necessary to hide the evidence in the laundry basket. I also hid all the sex toys, lubricant, and the heap of neckties we'd used in our bondage games, then I went into the room that was purportedly Nina's and arranged it to not arouse any suspicion that she hadn't slept there. Most of her things were already in my room, so I arranged them to look like they'd just been moved. My king-sized bed and the double bed in the guest room accommodated four rather traumatised but exhausted kids, while I made up a bed that hadn't been used since my daughter last brought my granddaughter for a visit.

Around eight that morning, I called Mike Wallace. "How's it going?" I asked.

"Well, thanks to you, we have Pascoe in custody. We've left him in the cells overnight, and I'll go in later to interview him. You were right to get the boys to bring the mother in. She tried to head-butt the cell wall last night. Fortunately, the desk sergeant was on the case, and she was restrained and sedated, but she's a mess. What evidence do you have for me?"

"Well, there'll be the testimony of Nina and Gemma, and crucially a recording of the incident on Nina's phone. I guess you'll be going over the house?"

"The team are already on it. I expect to find something useful, and we've unearthed some previous allegations about Pascoe. None of them ever went to trial because, I suspect, witnesses were too scared. I admit I'll be delighted if we can get a conviction and put that nasty little scroat away for a long time. What are you doing about the kids?"

"They're staying with me at the moment. I'll need to sort things out with Social Services to see what they think, but I really don't want to see these four going into care. They're a tight-knit group, and they won't stand being split up. I'm hoping we can get the mother back on an even keel and return them to their own home as soon as possible."

Nina, Gemma and I prepared breakfast for the family, and then I took them to the park. It was cold but bright, and the two little ones seemed to enjoy running around and exploring the play equipment, though I felt Lily was putting a brave face on things for George's sake. Nina and I sat with Gemma, who still looked traumatised from the night before; in reality, earlier the same day.

"Did he actually touch you?" I asked.

"He - he tried to pull my nightie aside and take my panties off, but I kept pushing him away and kicking him. The police arrived before he could do anything, but he got hold of Lily and threatened her. He's such an evil man."

I called Mike, and a little later, at his suggestion, I took the kids to see their mum at the police station. She was in tears and hugged them all.

"He - He's not a bad man..."

"Mum, he tried to rape Gemma, he threatened Lily with a knife, he hit me several days ago, and now he's stabbed me. And not long after he came here, he stuck his cock in my mouth." Nina looked angry.

"Only because you led him on," the mother whined.

I could see where this was going and suggested that Gemma take the little ones outside. Nina then resumed what I thought was a very calm explanation of the facts, under the circumstances.

"Mum, I was fifteen at the time. He bamboozled you. He conned you. He sponged off you. He tried to abuse three of your kids. What part of 'He's a total scumbag' don't you understand? I never led him on. As if! He disgusts me. I wanted him out of the house, because he's vile and never anything but trouble."

"No! He's not like that!"

I'd finally lost patience. "Mrs Andrews, you don't seem to be aware that Pascoe is a bigamist. He's still married to another woman, though you think he's married to you. His first wife - his legal wife - took out a restraining order on him because he was violent and tried to abuse her twelve-year-old daughter. He's been accused of numerous other sexual assaults, but witnesses and victims have been too scared to come forward and stop him. Now your daughters have the courage to do that. Will you actually support them - the ones your boyfriend abused - or will you still keep supporting a proven sex offender?"

The woman slumped forward onto the table between us, sobbing.

"Mum," Nina said, reaching across to touch her mother's shoulder, "I get why you've been loyal to him, but we're your daughters. Doesn't that count for anything?"

"He was a father to you!" she said in a choked voice.

"HE WAS NOTHING LIKE A FATHER!" Nina roared back. "Our Dad was amazing, and he loved us. Gerry Pascoe was a leech. He's been trying to get in my knickers, and then Gemma's, since he moved in. AND YOU LET HIM!"

She jumped up and stormed out.

"He's - he's not like that! He's a good man," Mrs. Andrews whined.

I was about to respond when the door opened, and Mike Wallace appeared. After the initial pleasantries, he opened a folder in front of him and spread some photos out on the table.

"Mrs Andrews, I'd like you to look at these pictures. They're of your daughters; this is Nina, Gemma, and Lily. They were on Pascoe's phone and iPad. Did you encourage him to take any of these?" The photos showed the girls in various stages of undress, mostly sleeping, with their nightdresses moved to expose their breasts or vulva. I thought they were disgusting.

She looked at them, winced, and looked away. "They encouraged him," she murmured, sulkily.

"What, Lily? How old is she? Seven? Mrs Andrews, we have many more photos of other children in very sexualised poses. Some are actually in the process of being abused, even raped. They're not your kids; we're still trying to work out whose they are, but we know he shared these and other photos with some known paedophiles. Mrs Andrews, were you aware that Gerald Pascoe was sharing sexualised images of your three daughters with known sex offenders?"

At that point, Mrs Andrews broke down, sobbing loudly. Mike waited for a minute or so before saying, "Janice Andrews, I'm charging you with aiding and abetting the sharing of child pornography. You do not have to say anything..."

Mrs Andrews let out a long howl of anguish and brought her head down hard on the table. I jumped up to restrain her. Mike opened the interview room door and called to someone. A WPC came in and took Mrs Andrews, in handcuffs, out of the room.

"What can we do with her? If she's left alone, she'll self-harm."

"I'll call the mental health people. I think we need to get her sectioned and probably sedated," Mike said. He sighed. "Fuck! The damage that scroats like Pascoe do is immeasurable!"

I could only agree.

That evening, I took the kids for pizza. George was a typical four-year-old, into everything and irrepressible. He kept calling me "Untle Fwank," in a very endearing way, unable to pronounce the letters 'c' or 'r'. Despite our earlier fun at the park, Lily still seemed rather traumatised from her experience in the early hours of that morning, and sat, rather subdued, between her big sisters. Gemma was putting a brave face on things, and Nina was trying to cheer them all up. We went home and watched 'Frozen' on my TV. Lily cheered up enough to sing along with 'Let It Go', and George joined in with the words he knew in a rather adorable yet atonal manner, but I wondered whether any of them could actually let it go after what they'd been through.

Marcia Morris from Social Services called me the following day - a Saturday!

"I understand you have four children from the Andrews household staying with you at the moment."

"Yes, Marcia. George, aged four, Lily, aged seven, Gemma, fourteen, and Nina, eighteen. What of it?"

"Who authorised that?"

"Well, as nobody from Social Services could get their arse out of bed at three AM, I used my initiative and experience to put them in a place of safety - my house. Is that a problem to you, Marcia?"

"We should have been consulted. There are procedures."

"Consulted? None of you lot answered the sodding phone! And I know there are bloody procedures, Marcia; I was on the committee that wrote most of them. Now look, I have four traumatised kids here. One ran away from prolonged threats of sexual abuse, a second was nearly raped, a third had a knife held to her throat, and the fourth is wondering why he can't see his mummy. But this all seems like news to you lot. How come you've been oblivious to the abuse and neglect going on in that house? Now I'm temporarily providing them with a place of safety where they can support one another and begin to recover from their ordeal. If you're telling me that you have a solution that will reduce their trauma and give them a better outcome, I'm all ears. If you don't - and if you DARE suggest taking them into care and splitting them up - then you can shove your sodding procedures up your arse. Come back to me when you can do something KIND for these poor kids. Otherwise, I suggest you combine sex with travel."

I rang off, furious. And immediately dialled another number; Jake Elliott, head of Children's Services at the Local Authority. I had his mobile number from my earlier employment.

"Jake? Sorry to disturb you at home on the weekend like this. It's Frank. Frank Parker. Yeah, I'm OK, thanks. I know I've been away for a while, but I've been recruited to take on the management of the Kewstoke - yeah, that place; wish me luck. I start on Monday. Look, I've just had Marcia Morris on my case. I'm dealing with an emergency, trying to look after four delightful but bruised kids who've been rescued from a paedophile who's currently being questioned by the police. Don't ask me how I got involved; it's a long story. They're in a bad way, mentally, but they trust me, and they desperately need some normality and to be with each other right now. Now you know me; I'm all about the kids, and I can't stand to see these four suffer any more, so I'm looking after them in my own home until we have a plan. Yeah, I know, but it was the best option at three AM yesterday. I've just had Marcia kicking off about it, so I'd be grateful if you could please put her back in her cage for now, and then maybe organise a case conference for as soon as everyone's back? I'm speaking with Mike Wallace on a regular basis, and I'll brief you as soon as we know more. But please, just leave me to deal with this for the sake of the kids, OK?"

Later, while Gemma sat with the younger ones watching a Shrek repeat, Nina and I stole a few minutes together in the kitchen.

"How's the shoulder?"

"Still a bit sore, but not too bad. But, Frank, what does all this mean for us?"

"For us? Well, I think we need to cool things for a while. I don't know. Maybe we should - we should just..."

"What? Stop? Please don't say that, Frank!" She came up to me and hugged me. "I don't think I could cope without - without you."

"Nina, sweetie, we have to make sure that there's no suggestion or evidence of anything going on between us. If that happens, Social Services will stop trusting me, I could lose my new job and any prospects of getting another one, and there's a risk that your little family will be split up and fostered all over the place. I want to be with you at least as much as you want to be with me, but if anyone finds the toys I've stashed away and puts two and two together, things will get very messy indeed. Look, we need to find you, Gemma, Lily and George somewhere you'll be safe and together. That might be your house, but that would ideally be when your mum's fit to go home. If we try to move you before then, it would put you in charge as the only adult in the household."

"I - I can do that," she replied. She looked fierce and determined. My heart melted, and I hugged her again, taking care to avoid her injured shoulder.

"I'm sure you could, but if you do that alone, you'll need to look after the young ones, and bang goes your new job. If we have to put you back there without your mum, then I have to get Social Services to provide a more comprehensive solution. And we need to help Mike Wallace build a strong case against Pascoe that has him sent down for a very long time; we don't want him ever turning up in your lives again. And helping your Mum get back on her feet will be a very high priority. You can't carry all this on your own. I'll do everything I can..."

She hugged me and rested her head on my shoulder. "Frank, you're amazing. God, if you'd been my stepdad instead of that arsehole Pascoe..."

"Then we could never have done what we did, or I'd be in a cell instead of him. Be patient, Nina. We'll work things out. And I'll be there for you."

I again took the kids out for a walk around some of the sights of London, which - apparently - the younger ones had never seen. The weekend passed as pleasantly as it could, with three delightful children and their eldest sister, who made my dick hard every time I looked at her.

On the Monday morning, I arrived at my new place of work, assessed the chaos and the big things that needed fixing. Partway through the morning, I got another call from Marcia, apologising and agreeing to leave the kids with me until a plan was in place. I reviewed the issues at Kewstoke House with Karen, a very competent lady who'd been holding the fort over Christmas, and together we began to create a plan. We worked on it until late in the evening, then I sent her home and bought fish and chips for five, taking it home to some kids who seemed rather more cheerful than they'd been when I'd picked them up a few days earlier.

The following day, the case conference I'd requested was convened. It was agreed that, although irregular, my house was the best place for the kids in the short term, and we put some paperwork in place to formalise this. Mike Wallace outlined the case against Pascoe and asked whether the kids would be up for giving evidence. I assured him that Nina and probably Gemma would, and we had the audio recording in any event and the bodycam footage from the officers who'd attended. The psychiatric report on Janice Andrews was in. A psychiatrist dealing with the case attended the conference and explained that Janice was now in a local facility, medicated to prevent self-harm. I floated the idea that, in the medium term, the kids might return home, with Nina nominally in charge but with help from Social Services. "It'll keep them together, which they desperately want and need, and it'll be much cheaper than putting them in a home or fostering them."

"George is pre-school. How's that going to work?" Marcia's point was valid, but aware that Jake, her boss, was sitting beside her, she was being slightly less abrasive than usual. But only slightly.

"Surely we can organise a childminder or nursery placement? A little bit of support from Social Services and the Education Department would see them through until Janice is fit to go home." I looked at the psychiatrist and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"We need to see how Janice is in a few days," she replied. "If Pascoe is sent down, that could have either a positive or negative effect on her well-being, depending on how the news is broken to her."

Mike Wallace leaned in and spoke. "It won't be a case of 'if'. We already have enough evidence on Pascoe to put him away for child pornography and bigamy. If the girls will testify, the abuse charges will stick, and we can increase the sentence. We have photos, but we need to back it up with testimony. But in any event, the case won't come to court for weeks. How long before you think she might be stable enough?"

"It's impossible to tell at this stage."

"How about I take the kids to see her? She might respond to them," I suggested.

"It didn't go too well last time," Mike said. "Do you think she can take it?" He looked at the psychiatrist.

We eventually agreed on a plan. The kids would stay with me for the remainder of the week, while Social Services put together a package of care and got their house ready for them to come home, with Nina in charge and with a review scheduled in a month. A childminder would get George to and from nursery school and look after him and Lily while Nina was at work, with some additional support in the evenings. Once the psychiatrist had given me the nod, I'd take the kids to see Janice. While Marcia grumbled, I proposed that Gemma could ensure Lily travelled to and from school with her on the same school bus - their schools were next to each other - and I agreed to take on a supervisory role, dropping round as often as I could.

That evening, I explained the proposals to the kids. "We want you to get back to being a normal family as soon as possible. We'll bring your mum home as soon as she's well enough. In the meantime, Nina's going to make sure you're all OK, and I'm going to help."

I'd already talked it through with Nina. It was a lot to ask of an eighteen-year-old, especially as she was about to start a new job, but Nina insisted she could do it - and I knew she was capable enough. The problem was that neither of us could see any alternative.

"We want to get your mum back as soon as we can," I said, optimistically. "It's just for a short time, and I'll provide as much help as I can."

"It'll take a bit for Gemma and me to trust her again. She wouldn't help us when we really needed it, and I wonder what'll happen if she meets another user like Gerry. She's very biddable."

"The problem is, the alternative is a home or fostering, and it's unlikely we could keep you all together. It's crucial that you keep your mum's house. I've seen kids leave care with literally nowhere to go and no safety net. While you have the house, at least you have shelter and a base, and I'll make sure you get as much support as I can muster, including financially. But it's going to be tough on you, Nina; I can't deny."

"I - I'll cope, Frank. Gemma's good. She'll help out."

This was just another reason for me to love Nina.

Two days later, the psychiatrist called, saying she felt Janice had turned a corner. I took the kids to see their mum, who broke down in tears and hugged them all.

"How - how could I - how could I have let him do that?" she sobbed.

I smiled at her. "He can't hurt you or the kids anymore. He's in custody, and there's enough evidence to send him down for a long time. He's a con man, Janice, and unfortunately he got his claws into you, and he was obviously very persuasive. But you're out from under his influence now, and you have four lovely kids who love you and want you to come home. You need to get better for their sakes."

"I think she'll make it," I said to Nina, quietly, after we'd left. "Give her a week, and she'll be missing you so much she'll be begging to come home. You may not need to be head of household for as long as I feared."

"I fucking hope so, Frank, because - because my arsehole is just aching to be stretched by your cock again." She gave me a wicked smile, and my pants felt uncomfortably tight all the way home.

The following Monday, Nina started her training as a care assistant. The course was just two weeks - barely enough, in my opinion - but it was intensive. She explained to her siblings that there was a lot to learn, and she needed help from me to get through the exams, so a childminder came in from six 'til ten, after Nina had given everyone a meal and before she and Gemma went to bed. And I picked her up and took her back to my place, for some respite and to help with her training.

Once there, she and I went over her course material for a while - and then went to bed for a while. Her training on those evenings included taking a rampant and aching cock down her throat and inside her tight, eighteen-year-old arse, on as many occasions as she could stand, while I stroked and licked every part of her body I could reach. After our first time, on New Year's Eve, she'd complained that she was sore afterwards and needed time to recover. But now, she seemed desperate to be sodomised - 'arse-fucked' as she loved to call it - as often as I could manage it. So most evenings would be a mixture of revision for her job and deep oral and anal insertion. I came to relish our evenings together, as I arse-fucked her in as many positions as we could imagine. One of my favourites - and hers, too, it seemed - was the 'dirty cowgirl' position we'd tried on the evening before Pascoe turned everything upside down. It was so good, being able to look into her beautiful eyes, admire her full, young breasts and her open, wet pussy, while she slowly - and then more urgently - rode my naked cock as I played with her clit.

After two weeks, her training ended. She passed the final exams at the top of her class, despite her duties as head of the family and the constant distraction of an old man's cock up her arse. I'd been agitating for Janice to return, to normalise the family and take the strain off my darling Nina, but I had to fight tooth and nail to get the psychiatrist to allow even home visits. I supervised several of these, and though I was convinced that Janice was contrite and eager to take up her place as the focal point of the family, and the kids responded well to her presence, the authorities were reluctant to commit. I was concerned that we'd never have some serious time together.

But then, quite suddenly, things changed; rather weirdly.