Revelation

Emma, accompanied by Mr. Roarke, arrived in the basement. They discovered Jenna completely distraught, covered in semen, tied up, her thighs open, begging for more sex.

Emma, for the first time, felt repulsed by her friend. Without thinking, she grabbed her riding crop and struck her friend with it. Instead of reacting like a strong woman, she began to scream.

• Yes, yes, again...

Emma, in a rage, could no longer contain herself and lashed out as if she wanted to tear her to shreds. The riding crop whistled through the humid basement air before slamming violently against Jenna's taut flesh, leaving scarlet marks on her skin, already glistening with sweat and dried residue. Each blow elicited high-pitched moans from her friend, "More! Harder!" interspersed with manic laughter, as if each blow brought her pleasure.

The whip came down again, whipping Jenna's quivering hips, her bright red-marbled skin almost seeming to burn under each impact. Her screams turned into hoarse gasps, her mouth half-open, dripping with saliva as her fingers desperately gripped the restraints holding her captive.

Even when she focused on her sex or her clitoris, Jenna spread her thighs even wider, lifting her hips to expose herself to Emma's growing fury. She couldn't bear to see this magical day ruined by Jenna acting like a female dog in heat. She felt no bounds to her anger, not even realizing that she risked maiming her friend if she persisted.

The whip came down once more, this time with such **** that Jenna's raw skin tore, dripping crimson blood down her trembling thighs. Emma, her nostrils flaring, smelled the metallic scent mingling with the acrid stench of sex and sweat.

As she was about to continue, Mr. Roarke stopped her, untied Jenna, who was moaning with satisfaction, and ordered her.

• Heel, Jenna, Mr. Roarke ordered sharply, his dark eyes never leaving the disheveled young woman.

Jenna obeyed immediately, crawling towards him like a submissive beast, her bruised knees dragging on the cold floor. Her breath was ragged, her skin glistening with sweat and whip marks, but a grim smile stretched her swollen lips.

He held out his hand, Jenna began to lick it, Mr. Roarke sighed, ordered her.

• That's enough, now come back to yourself.

Jenna, as if by magic, regained her senses. She looked at Mr. Roarke and Emma. Almost reluctantly, she stood up, emerging from her trance.

• Did you like Miss Ortega?

A little ashamed as she looked at Emma, but she sincerely admitted it.

• Yes, it was.

Mr. Roarke nodded.

• You always get what you want on my island, and even more.