The Scene of the Crime Ch. 03

"Stop it!" Isabella gasped.

"It's okay if you enjoy it," he said. He looked at her, from her cute squirming legs to her curvy hips to her swaying breasts, before catching her eye. "Why be a slut if you aren't going to enjoy it?"

He thrust into her, and she gasped before she managed to reply. "I'm not a slut," she insisted.

"Well, that's still up to you," he said. "But even good girls feel pleasure." He leaned in and kissed her forehead. She twisted her head, but this only gave him other places to kiss her - on her cheek, then on her nose, then on her chin. She made one last energetic attempt to evade, and he caught her ear, kissing it and drawing her earlobe into his mouth. She gasped, her mouth wide and her eyes rolling back into her head for a moment, before she stopped herself and resumed her struggles.

"See there," he murmured. "You liked that." Before she could respond, he was kissing a path towards her other ear.

"No," she said, but it was half moan, and a moment later he was kissing her other ear and words failed her entirely. She gasped and flailed, trying to keep the arousal out of her voice and failing miserably.

I was lucky, I thought, not to have to bother. Tomorrow I would need to feign ignorance, which was its own challenge, but tonight I could moan as loudly as I wanted to. I wondered if that would make me a slut or a good girl, by the man's bizarre reckoning. I wasn't getting fucked, but I was enjoying watching Isabella get fucked almost as much as the man was, and I wasn't showing much more guilt.

The man lifted himself up so that he could see more of Isabella. He watched her shake her head, her eyes scrunched shut, gasping and struggling as she tried not to let her pleasure show. He looked down her body, his gaze lingering on the curve of her neck, her perfectly formed breasts, the line from her soft belly down to her dark bush. Her feet were barely moving, except that her toes would curl every now and then.

"Stop," she moaned. She was still trying not to give voice to her pleasure, but she knew it was a losing battle.

"How can I stop when you're enjoying yourself this much?" he groaned.

"I don't want to be," Isabella objected. "I'm not a slut."

"I know you're not," the man said. "Not that it's a bad thing. But even good girls need an orgasm every now and then."

She shook her head, but he made a careful motion with his hips and she arched her back. He leaned in and gave her ear another nibble, provoking a squeal and a frenzied struggle.

"That's why I paid Georgia and Ashanti a visit," he went on. The poor girls had been denying themselves."

"I'm not like them!" Isabella cried.

"Don't say that," the man replied. His pace was slowly creeping up, his cock plunging into Isabella's pussy no matter how she twisted. I couldn't help but admire the gorgeous curve of her ass as she tried to push herself away.

"You're a good girl who hasn't been getting the pleasure she deserves," he said as he thrust into her. I could hear the pleasure in his voice too, now. I knew it wouldn't be long before he filled her, and I suspect that she was just as unsafe as Georgia and Ashanti had been. I felt a terrible thrill at the thought of watching him knock Isabella up too.

"No," Isabella moaned. "Let me go."

"I will," the man said, staring down at her pussy and watching his cock thrust between her lips. "But you're gonna cum first."

She gasped, shaking her head. Then, perhaps drawn by his gaze, she looked down, too. For a long moment, the three of us all stared at where Isabella's body was taking him in. He would pull back, his shaft covered in Isabella's wetness, before thrusting back inside. Her lips opened to take him in, her pussy squeezing his cock when he buried it inside her. She might not have asked for it, but her body was not consulting her about whether taking his cock was a good idea.

"Oh," she gasped, looking up at his face. He looked back and smiled.

"There you go," he said. "Your body's been wanting this so badly."

She squirmed helplessly, her breath coming in gasps as she tried desperately to avoid the pleasure he sought to give her. I was gasping along with her, moaning as I worked my way closer to a climax. She was so desperate not to let herself come apart, and I wondered if I'd come apart with her when she did.

"This is why girls are slutty sometimes," he went on. "Because their bodies want them to get fucked."

Isabella gritted her teeth, doing her best to stare him down. She was trying so hard not to let her pleasure show, not to even feel her body give him this last victory. The man leaned in and kissed her, but aside from a quick shake of her head she refused to acknowledge it.

He smiled. "Of course, your body wants more than just to get fucked," he continued as he ravished her. "Your body wants to climax."

"No!" Isabella moaned. "I'm not- I'm not that kind of girl..."

"Even good girls have orgasms," he said. "Good girls don't give their pussies enough attention, and so they get all wet and excited the first time they meet a man like this."

"Stop..." Isabella moaned.

"Oh yes," he went on. "You want to cum so bad. It's okay. You'll still be a good girl even if you cum for me."

Isabella moaned helplessly, and I moaned along with her. She was gorgeous, even with her arms pinned above her head, and the path that led to her climax had the most beautiful views. It was wrong, but I could understand perfectly why the man wanted her like this, naked and helpless and carried on a rising tide of pleasure. At the same time, I could imagine myself in Isabella's place - being pleasured and controlled, my body cooperating eagerly no matter what I said or did.

"Oh yes," the man moaned. "Just let the moment in. I won't tell anyone."

"Oh," Isabella moaned, and I could hear her approaching climax in her voice. I gasped, one hand on my breast and the other dancing back and forth in my pussy. What must it feel like to be in Isabella's place? To be forced to reach your highest peak by a stranger? To feel your body participate, getting wet and opening up for him? To know that you were unprotected, and that your climax will hasten the moment when he seeds you?

"Please don't," Isabella gasped, her eyes widening. "Oh, I'm not supposed to!"

"Your body knows what you're supposed to do," he replied, his own breathing growing heavy. "Just listen."

Isabella shook her head with a squeak. "Stop it!" she moaned desperately, her hands and feet twisting in search of anything to hold back the tide.

"Soon enough," he groaned.

Isabella stared up at him, the disbelief and desperation in her expression slowly giving way to transcendent ecstasy. She made a little whimpering moan with each thrust, her pitch and volume rising as she went. I moaned along, eager to go off the cliff's edge with her even though my fingers were a poor substitute for his ravishing cock. I wanted to fall apart with her, to come as close as I could to sharing everything she felt.

It began with one final outraged cry, a no that became an inarticulate eruption of pleasure that could no longer be restrained. Isabella arched her back, and kicked against the bed, and grasped the sheets. She curled her toes and threw her head back. I tried to take in every moment, to see every detail of her climax from the mixture of a thousand expressions that crossed her face to the line of her muscles as she strained against him. It was like trying to drink the incoming tide, and it swept me away.

I let go of my breast and grabbed the edge of my desk as the wave broke across me. Every nerve was electric as the pleasure flowed through me, radiating out from my pussy in every direction, my heart racing to keep up. I bit my lip, gasping, and managed to keep watching. I called out Isabella's name, because I was sharing this forbidden joy with her, and because I didn't know the man's name to call out.

We crashed down together, the waves leaving us gasping on the shore as they receded. Isabella was staring up at the man, her expression somewhere between accusal and bliss. She panted as the rush of her climax faded, and he smiled down at her.

He's been trying to take in every detail too, I realized. As she came apart, her pussy squeezing his cock, he'd been watching her expression, the line of her sides as she strained upwards, the sweat on her beautiful olive skin. He'd stood in the surf just like I had, and he'd stayed upright for a moment longer, but he was going to fall too.

"God, you're beautiful," he moaned. He was still thrusting into her, his pace increasing. Isabella was still reeling from her body's betrayal, and she was barely squirming in his grasp, but it was true; she was beautiful no matter what she was doing. She looked up at him with her brown eyes, unable to look away.

"I think there's one more thing that our bodies want," he said, glancing down. I couldn't tell if he was looking at her pussy or her belly, but either way she understood.

"No," she moaned, her own climax still coloring her speech. "Don't!"

"Your body wants it, though," he said, looking back at her face. "Your pussy got all wet and excited, and then you came so beautifully."

"But I'm not safe," she gasped. He'd lifted himself up, and she watched as his stiff cock plunged into her. I watched along with her, my hands driving myself toward a second peak. I had shared Isabella's pleasure, and now I was sharing the man's.

"Oh, I know you're not safe," he groaned, following her gaze. "That's why your body is so excited. It wants you to get pregnant."

I could hear the soft sounds her pussy made as he thrust into her, her wetness easing his path. I could see the way her breasts bounced with each thrust, and the minute movements of her hips as she fruitlessly to escape his attention. He was right; her body did want to see her get knocked up. It was wrong, but so did I.

"I don't," Isabella objected. "Please, I'm not that kind of girl!"

The man smiled. "I know you're not a slut," he said. His pace was becoming desperate, his cock a blur as it relentlessly drove into her. "Sluts usually use birth control."

Isabella squealed in outrage, but the man was not about to be put off. I fingered myself desperately, hoping I could cum with him too.

"You are a beautiful, good girl," he gasped. He kissed her forehead, and she couldn't manage a response. "And you're going to have such a cute baby."

"No!" Isabella moaned.

"Yes," I whispered.

"I'm going to cum in your pretty pussy," he growled, glancing down at where they joined.

"Yes!" I moaned, as Isabella cried out in protest.

"I'm gonna knock you up!" he bellowed.

"Do it!" I cried.

He thrust into her three times, almost too quick to follow, before burying his cock deep inside her and holding it there.

Words failed us all, then. The man roared with pleasure, his eyes rolling back as the sensation overwhelmed him. He drove his cock deep into Isabella's helpless pussy, holding it there for each wave of his climax before pulling it back to thrust again. His angle was just right, and I could see the base of his cock flexing as he filled her fertile cunt with his seed. It flowed into her wet pussy, blast after blast, as he sprayed it against her cervix.

Isabella was wailing in protest - against the man, against her body, against a universe that let good girls get ravished and knocked up by strangers. She cried out, her rage at the injustice undercut by her body's satisfaction. She kicked her feet and writhed in his grasp, even as her wet pussy clutched eagerly at his cock.

My second climax was only a moment behind the man's, but I was tipped over the edge by the sounds they made. I moaned like a whore as I leaned against the desk, the pleasure flowing over me. It was all I could do to keep watching, to see every moment as he filled her.

As terrible as it was, Isabella was so beautiful - her hair a chaotic mess, her olive skin covered in sweat, her pussy dripping wet - that I could understand why the man wanted to see her like this. The man, too, held a primal draw. I watched him roar and moan as he held Isabella in place and creamed her, his desire to spread his seed and fill her womb with his child too strong to be denied.

I didn't know whose place I wanted to be in. A part of me longed to be pinning Isabella down and fingering her until she came apart. Another part wished that he was holding me down instead, using my body, making me do what nature demanded. I held tight to those thoughts; I knew that I could enjoy them and the only consequence would be the guilt.

Eventually we all caught our breath. The man held Isabella there for some time, even once he'd sent the last of his seed into Isabella's womb. I skipped ahead, and saw that he held her in place for some time, letting his seed soak in, before pulling out and making his escape. I pulled my skirt up and fixed my bra as I considered my options.

If I called the police, Isabella would have to talk to them, and tell them what had happened. I wanted the man caught, but I didn't want to force anything else on her.

My only other option was to be extra cautious, and make sure that neither Fila nor I were ever closing the shop on our own. It could work, I supposed. I told myself that I wanted it to work. But the truth is, there was a part of me that hoped it wouldn't.

--

I was pulled in a few directions over the next few weeks. On one hand, I had the nagging guilt that came from violating Isabella's privacy. I wasn't the police, and I had no right to watch her get ravished for my viewing pleasure. On the other hand, the viewing pleasure was incredibly good. I hardly masturbated to anything else.

The final complication came a week and a half later, though. Isabella and I were opening the store together. She hadn't mentioned anything about what had happened, which made it easier for me not to think about it around her. I was just about to ask her to unlock the door when she put a hand on her stomach and made a quick dash to the bathroom. It might sound silly to say that I instantly knew she was pregnant, but I did.

Here, too, my thoughts went in multiple directions. I hoped she was okay, of course. I hoped she'd be able to come to terms with it. I hoped I'd be able to find a temp when everyone started taking maternity leave.

Beneath it all, though, I was turned on. I had watched the moment when Isabella got pregnant, and I'd climaxed as I did it. I was going to get to watch them all in the shop over the coming months. I would get to watch them walk around in the very place where they'd been filled up, watch their bellies grow, watch their tits fill with milk, with every moment reminding me of what I'd seen happen to them...

Isabella came out of the bathroom before I could get too distracted. She looked queasy, and worried, and I was at her side before I'd thought about what I was doing.

"Isabella, what's wrong?"

She blushed. She hesitated a moment, considering brushing me off, before she abruptly took my hand.

"Miss Martin, I'm pregnant."

I feigned surprise. I did not have to feign concern, though; I embraced her and held her close.

"I don't know what to do," she said. "I don't know whether to keep it."

I squeezed her hand. "Whatever you decide, I'll support you," I said. "Whether you need time off for doctor visits, or just someone to talk to, I'm here."

I'd like to think I was only being supportive because I care about her. I can't rule out the thought that I wanted her to keep the baby in part because I thought she'd be hot with a belly, though.

She smiled for a moment, then grew concerned. "I don't know what to say to Georgia and Isabella, though. I...I feel like I was judging them, and they know it."

I took a deep breath. "Maybe," I said. "But I bet that'll be forgotten if they get a pregnancy buddy. You're not the one they have a grudge against, anyway."

She nodded vigorously. "Oh, I know."

I leapt at the chance to let go of one more secret. "Do you mean-"

She blushed again. "It was the same man, I think. He...he forced me. I didn't say anything because I was judging myself too."

I held her again, even tighter. "I'm sorry," I said, without saying everything I was sorry for.

"Thank you," she said, her voice right in my ear. "You're a good person."

I smiled, and kept holding her, and did my best to believe it.

--

I want to thank SylviDoll for her editorial input.