JORDAN!

Jordan shrugs and turns around.

"Better don't try to peep," Isabella warns with an eye-roll as she spreads her legs, revealing her pink panties. She gazes at it for a while before gently opening it and carefully looking at her pussy, dipping her finger inside and pushing it into her hole.

"He really didn't touch me," after the brief self-examination, she sniffles back her tears and wipes them off.

"Where is Mr. Moore?" She abruptly asks.

Jordan nonchalantly points towards the figure hanging upside down from the ceiling.

"What?" Isabella is so shocked that she jumps up from the couch, her jaw dropped. "Do you know who he is? How can you beat him up this badly? Do you always have to be so rash?" She yells agitatedly.

"He was about to rape you, how could I have beaten him?" Jordan narrows his brow. "I had even shown him mercy! Naturally, he should have had his dick and hands cut off."

"Ah!" Isabella shrieks, shooting him glare. "Untie him right now and bring him down!" She orders. "You
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