Saving Isabelle

She came to be consoled.... we helped, or did we?

*

"Who could that be?" my wife Aliza said as our doorbell rang. She looked worried. And not without reason. It was close to midnight and we had just finished cleaning up the kitchen before going to bed.

"No idea."

We both went to the front door and I peeped through the small spy hole.

To my surprise it was Isabelle, wet from the rain.

We know her well. She lives on the next farm up the road, a farm that barely makes a profit. Her husband is known mainly as nuisance and a habitual frequenter of pubs. Isabelle, normally a blooming pretty young woman with a charming face and a sexy body, appeared to be extremely distressed.

"What happened?!" my wife asked alarmed, letting her in. Isabelle had eyes red from crying. We showed her into our still warm living room. The fire had not yet completely died.

It took a while before she calmed down. It appeared that her man had left her once again. That happened often. We knew. He always came back after a few days. Usually stone drunk. But this time Isabelle was certain he would not return. They had fought the whole day over the news he had broken to her: he had another woman. By evening he'd angrily left, saying he would move in with his new love. He had packed his things in two big suitcases, including his bottles of booze, slammed the door and disappeared. Isabelle began to cry again.

"He won't come back..." she slobbered, "and I don't want him any more." She seemed shivering cold and very much in need of being cuddled and consoled.

But trying to quieten her was no easy matter. Isabelle put her on the sofa and wrapped an arm around her. I made tea. We listened. And we tried to comfort her with quiet soft words. Still it took quite a while. In the end we gave her a few stiff drinks which, once gulped down, seemed at least to clear her up a little.

We talked a lot that night. Deep into the early morning hours.

Actually, she was the one doing most of the talking. Mainly about her stranded marriage, confessing to our surprise that her man beat her regularly. Shocked Aliza prodded for more. "What do you mean, beat?" she asked.

"He just beats me," Isabelle said, sniffing up some last tears.

"I see," Aliza answered pensively, "He's that kind." And when Isabelle did not answer, she asked: "What triggers him?"

Isabelle hesitated and blushed. "Nothing," she said, "Just beats me up for nothing."

"For no reason?" I asked throwing a meaningful glance at Aliza. "How did this thing start?" Aliza, ignoring my question, softly inquired: "Is this a sexual thing or something?"

Isabelle shook her head, but then, in a barely audible voice, admitted with a fresh flowing of tears, that in the beginning, when it all started, she at least hoped it would turn him on and make him want her sexually.

"And did it?" I asked rather recklessly, which gained me an angry stare from Aliza.

She shook her head again. "We don't have sex anymore," she sniveled, "in bed he just wanks himself off next to me."

"Jesus, for how long has this been going on?" Aliza asked.

Isabelle began to cry again, full blast. "I don't know... maybe years," she finally managed to say, trying to stem her tears with the soaked hankie Alisa had handed her. Aliza again hugged her like a small child. "Poor little thing," she said, "Poor little thing". She repeated it many times.

We had to give Isabelle a few more drinks before she managed to dry her tears. But it was getting awfully late (or rather close to morning), and she showed no signs of going home or even wanting to.

Aliza became really concerned. So we proposed she sleep it off in our spare bedroom. Isabelle looked up at us gratefully, agreed, and finally stood up from the couch. Hurriedly we both steadied her on her legs.

Suddenly she wrapped her arms around my neck, looked at me with half closed watery eyes, and pulled my face to hers, kissing me hard and wet on my mouth.

"Thank you... thank you..." she blubbered, after I had disentangled myself with some effort from the unexpected embrace. Aliza watched with both amusement and a slight tingle of suspicion as Isabelle went on in an unstable voice. "You two are so nice to me... I don't deserve it... I'm such a bad woman..."

Half an hour later Aliza had finally succeeded in putting her to bed.

"Guess what she told me," Aliza said when we stepped into our own bed.

"What?"

"She's drunk as a door of course, but it was still quite shocking. She said it's all her fault and that she's the kind of woman who always ends up being beaten by her man. When I asked what she meant, she began to cry again, confessing that she thinks she needs to be hurt and bullied and thrown around like dirt. Thinks it's her destiny. Sounded like some masochistic jabber if you ask me."

"Pity I'm not married to her," I joked."

"Don't try to be funny... I know that this kind of talk triggers that kinky mind of yours. But really, this looks quite serious."

"Hmm....," I said, "Sure it triggers me. But you're quite kinky as well, aren't you, my love?" Drawing her near to me I kissed her and whispered: "You better beware, little slutty of mine, I'm going to fuck you raw. Remember, it's my turn tonight..." and suddenly I pulled her head back by her hair...

She fought me.

And still did when I mounted her.

***

Isabelle stayed with us every evening for almost two weeks. It became quite a burden. She would talk and talk about her failed marriage, cry a bit, drink too much and sleep it off in our spare bed room. It had almost become a routine.

Aliza and I began to discuss her, speculating about what kind of woman she really was. Or had been for that matter. We both thought her a very attractive young woman. And then, at a certain point, while making love in bed, we found ourselves whisper like naughty school children about Isabelle's young body and its imagined potential. Soon she began to feature in some of our most cruel sexual fantasies. We tied her down. We whipped her. We raped her. Not entirely without guilt feelings of course. But it wet our sexual appetite.

Then, one night.

We were reading by our little bedside lamps after a very tiresome day, fatigued and hoping to get drowsy, when the door of our bedroom quietly opened.

She wore one of Aliza's sexy nighties. The semi-transparent material on her left little to the imagination.

"I can't sleep.... would you please let me come in with you...?"

Her voice was slightly slurred from the by now habitual evening alcohol.

No need to say Aliza and I were surprised and did not immediately answer. But Isabelle continued:

"I owe you two, don't I?," she said, "Maybe you would like to...," she hesitated a few seconds, then went on in a subdued voice, "to play with me.... I mean... " She stopped speaking and cast down her eyes.

It was quite a thing to be asked.

"You mean what?" Aliza asked, as if she didn't know.

Isabelle hesitated, "I have been alone for so long... and..."

She swallowed, then after a brief moment haltingly resumed: "I... I am used to... eh... to be treated like... I mean... like a slut."

Aliza and I looked at each other and my heart missed a beat. And so, it seemed, did Aliza's.

Tension seeped into the air. There was a long silence. Nobody made a move.

Finally I glanced at Aliza aside me in bed. She looked back at me with a raised eyebrow.

Then she smiled.

"Well," she said softly to Isabelle still standing before us, "Whatever you wish. I'm not saying no." She did not even ask me for my opinion. She knew. Slowly she took my book from my hands and put it together with hers on her bedside table. Then she turned back, popped herself up a little, and in a relaxed voice asked Isabelle: "Any special ideas?"

There was no response.

So I gave one: "How about you let us see what you have to offer."

Still no response.

"Well?" I said, "Don't just stand there staring at us. Go on, show us your body."

But Isabelle only cast down her eyes. Otherwise she remained standing just as she was.

Aliza now spoke in that soft threatening voice I love so much: "If you don't open up that nightie for us, dear, I'm afraid I'm going to use some force to make you do it," and she seemed ready to get out of bed.

But that wasn't necessary. Isabelle's mouth began to tremble as she fumbled at the buttons of the nightgown.

It opened up before our eyes.

I was awed... In the soft light of our reading lamps she was very, very sexy. Beautifully shaped breasts that looked inviting, crowned with big fleshy nipples which asked to be sucked. Her belly, slightly protruding, declined back to a shapely and lightly downed love mound that descended towards a fine dark furrow, her most intimate lower entrance.

"You better get completely out of that stuff." Aliza's voice, although still soft, was suddenly hoarse. Under our sheets her hand groped for my crotch. "You shouldn't really use nighties," she said, we don't use them either as you can see." She moved a slip of her sheet to show her breasts.

Isabelle now briefly lifted her eyes and hesitantly obeyed. The flimsy material slid off her shoulders to the floor, revealing two deliciously curved hips and some very tempting thighs. Thus she remained standing passively before us, again with downcast eyes, displaying herself in full nakedness.

Aliza's hand enveloped my balls.

All three of us remained silent for a long time.

"Turn around," Aliza said, "I've seen your tits and your cunt. I want to see your ass." Her hand now stroked my manhood rather fiercely.

Isabelle slowly turned around and showed us two small, smooth and perfectly round cheeks. Thus she stood for a full minute. Finally, without being asked, she turned back showing us her front again. She was blushing crimson red.

Slowly Aliza lifted the sheets on her side, nodding Isabelle into our matrimonial bed.

She slipped in gracefully, her movements like clear spring water.

"Go lie between us," Aliza said. She stopped fondling my by now fully rigid member and began to softly stroke Isabelle's hair, explaining, as if that were necessary: "I believe from Alex's state of affairs that he wants to amuse himself with you as much as I do."

Again Isabelle obeyed dutifully. She climbed across Aliza's nude anatomy, and slowly let her agile body sink down on its back, barely finding space in the narrow expanse between the two of us.

Her body felt warm and soft and scented delicious. Fully excited by now I leaned over and kissed her lips. They were soft moist lips. Aliza joined in, and soon we were both greedily kissing her mouth and throat, our hands caressing all over her flesh, her breasts, her belly, her thighs.

It was an exceedingly powerful experience.

But Isabelle showed little response to our ministrations. Her delectable body remained almost passively between us. "Please... " she whispered. But that was all she said.

I looked at Aliza's flushed face, our heads close together.

Below us Isabelle slowly opened her eyes. And she said it again. More pleadingly now: "Please..."

Again Aliza and I looked questioning at each other. Each of us thinking the same. That's when Isabelle whispered it. In a barely audible voice.

"Please... please hurt me...."

Slowly a smile developed on Aliza's face and she breathed in my ear: "What are we waiting for, let's rough her up."

I smiled back and nodded excitedly.

Resolutely Aliza elevated herself from the mattress. She bent over the impassive girl, took her wrists and stretched her arms above her head, pressing them into the mattress.

This was our fantasy coming true...

I gripped both Isabelle's breasts, clawing my fingers deep into the flesh.

For the first time she opened her mouth and groaned.

I kneaded that fleshy fruit for quite some time, then took her nipple into my mouth, sucking it until it grew thick with arousal and Isabelle began to moan again.

Then I bit...

Hard...!

That's how we got her screaming.

I kept my teeth in her flesh. The girl's upper torso squirmed exquisitely below me, helpless to wrestle herself free from my jaws and from Aliza's locking grip on her wrists. And she kept screaming. For a moment I thought that maybe this was too much for her to handle. We hadn't given Isabelle a safe word like Aliza and I sometimes do when we loosen our reins and play our cruel games with each other. But she hadn't asked for one, had she? And anyway I got too exited from that cringing body below me to stop chewing that fine nipple in my mouth. She fought us fiercely now, trying to free her hands from Aliza's grip and trampling the air with both legs. She was no match really. We held her firmly. So I went on hurting her with my teeth and the screams of our lovely victim became ear splitting.

Soon Aliza became impatient. With some effort she succeeded in scrambling around without letting go of the squirming girl's arms. Then she seated herself across our screaming pet, who by now resembled a furiously thrashing horse.

I loosened my yaws, if only to give some room to Aliza, and started quietly to suck Isabelle's swollen nipple, as if consoling her. She stopped screaming immediately and began to breath hard, shaking her head in helpless passion from side to side.

But Aliza heatedly pushed my face aside, ending my feast and yelling it was her turn to play with the girl, and my turn to hold her steady.

When I did, and took over Isabelle's wrists, I enjoyed a hugely exciting scene: Aliza, sitting astride Isabelle's ribs and breasts, began to slap her hard straight across her face. Again and again... and again...! Isabelle soon cried like an abused child unjustly punished, her pretty face flooded by tears.

Highly aroused, Aliza now spoke to her in a hot voice: "You wanted us to play with you, didn't you? So don't complain if we like to hurt you. You're just a juicy masochistic slut, aren't you? It's lovely to beat you." She was enjoying herself tremendously.

Whack... whack... whack...!

Isabelle's crying changed to an agonized howling, and the more she was hit the louder she sang. Soon panic mixed in and her screams ripped her throat raw. She was like a beautifully wounded animal.

"I love it... I love it...!" Aliza yelled above our victim's shrieking voice.

Isabelle's face turned blazing red from Aliza's slapping. But I seemed to notice that, although she continued to scream and cry in pain, the wrigglings of her body gradually began to betray the opposite...

She was getting in heat as much as we were.

Aliza finally stopped hitting her, bent over, and greedily sucked half a breast into her mouth... Just when Isabelle seemed to calm down a little from this more gentle treatment, my lovely wife bit ferociously into the soft breast-flesh.

Our prey arched with the whole of her body like a rearing mare, heaving Aliza up high, renewed screams reverberating through the room, her lovely head lolling in misery over our feathered cushions from left to right and back.

It was fantastic to watch.

Finally Aliza relaxed her jaws and switched to forcefully kiss the mouth of her victim. Again the effect on Isabelle was almost immediate. She stopped screaming, curled her legs up and, wrapping them around Aliza's slender waist, began to undulate her loins.

The combination of Aliza's sexual aggression and her victim's responding submission, was extremely erotic. Hot waves of flaming lust gushed up from deep within my flanks.

I pushed Aliza off and dragged Isabelle out of our bed. She fell to the floor and I immediately put a foot on her breasts, pressing her into the carpet. She began to struggle and my foot slid down to her throat. She coughed and I saw spittle appear on her lips. But I kept her down, although she tried in vain to wrestle my foot off with her hands. "What are you doing...?" Aliza yelled frustrated, suddenly sitting idle on her knees on the mattress. "Be careful! Don't damage her. I want to keep her screaming!"

"Wait... you'll see...," I said slightly easing my foot, and I reached for my bathing robe, which lied draped over a chair. Ripping its waist cord off I sank down on my knees, grabbed Isabelle's wrists and quickly I tied them together. Now she was really helpless.

Pulling our fucktoy up by her hair, I threw her back onto our sheets.

Like a predator Aliza jumped back upon her. Unable to stop her tormentor with those tied hands, Isabelle tried to escape and roll herself away. But it did not work. Aliza again straddled herself over her victim's body, this time facing her feet. Using all her weight she pressed down those sexy haunches, thus able to keep Isabelle on her back and restrain her trampling legs. But Isabelle pounded her from behind with her bound fists. "Alex, tie her down!" Aliza called out to me. And I did. I pulled her arms flat and fastened her bound wrists to the headboard of our big bed.

Beautiful! I could relax now. I grabbed a cigarette from the bedside table, lighted it and sat on my knees on the mattress to watch.

Aliza slid her knees to both sides of the wriggling body of Isabelle, pressing her pussy into the soft belly flesh below her. She bent over and with both hands grasped Isabelle's love lips. There was a loud cry as Isabelle jerked her thighs closed. But I quickly helped and pried them open again, holding them imprisoned. Aliza now brutally probed Isabelle's sex, moving her fingers deep into the soft moist flesh. Isabelle gave another piercing shriek, and fought to close her thighs again. To no avail. The only effect was that Aliza went in deeper. Isabelle began to wail, no doubt because she felt her treatment as a horrible degradation. But suddenly her cries changed to moaning and then to panting.

"Open your legs, slut!" Aliza yelled, "Wider!" And Isabelle, now in obvious ecstasy obeyed immediately and even tried to move her hips to greedily meet Aliza's probing hands. But Aliza, noticing how Isabelle had changed from suffering to wallowing in pleasure, immediately put a stop to it. She pulled out her hand, showing me with a triumphant smile how they glistened from the sexual moisture that was by now leaking as well out of Isabelle's maltreated pussy.

"The bitch," Aliza laughed, "look, she's in blazing heat!" and she wiped her fingers clean in the bush of Isabelle's love mound.

A wave of cruel lust overtook me. I took the cigarette and very slowly lowered its smoldering tip towards Isabelle's face.

She stopped panting, her eyes popped out in panic and she began to yell: Noooo!!

Seeing what I was doing, Aliza turned herself around over Isabelle's wriggling body and grabbed her hair to steady her face for me. "Yeah, Alex, give it to her," she cried excitedly.

I brought the burning tip of my cigarette even closer to Isabelle's face, so she could feel its radiating heat.

"NOOOOO!!!"

"Yessss!" Isabelle cried out. "Burn her!"

So I did, and I let the cigarette softly kiss the tender flesh of her cheek.

She gave a horrid scream as pain knifed through her face.

Fascinated Alisa looked down. "That's great Alex" she said in a heated voice, "and now her breasts!"

I smiled in agreement and slowly let the cigarette sear one nipple... then the other... The poor girl kept screaming so violently that I feared the roof would come down upon us.

Now Aliza switched position again to face Isabelle's lower body. She grabbed the cigarette from my hand, and brought its glowing tip slowly to Isabelle's struggling belly. It left an angry spot on her fine skin and drew scream after scream. Now aiming at the hill of Isabelle's jerking love mound, Aliza directed what was left of the cigarette to the dripping wet folds of her victim's shaking femininity. Briefly she glanced at me as if asking for permission. I nodded eagerly. Thus she brought the stub down, extinguishing its smoldering remains by grinding it hard into Isabelle's most private flesh. By then our Isabelle had become a raging beast shaking and trampling her legs like a mad dog. I had to dodge her fury.