Princess Donna Dolore and Vendetta

Vendetta returns. Tanned. Toned. Trouble. Donna's got the hooks in early—nipples clamped, feet worked until she twitches. Vendetta clenches, breathes, holds out. Then the denial starts. She bucks, curses, strains for release that never comes. When it finally breaks, the orgasm rips through her hard enough to shake the table. Donna doesn't let up. Another wave follows, rougher than the last. Vendetta's spent, sweat-slick, still smiling through the gag. The tension between them crackles like a live wire. You can feel it through the lens.