Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1510

Chapter 1510: Chapter 1510

Lucy cried out as a vine slid between her thighs, curling, caressing, slick and warm. "It’s learning me," she gasped.

Stella was already arching, vines cradling her, lifting her as if to worship her body. Zoey lay back, laughing, legs spread, eyes rolling. Sophie gasped as one vine looped her wrists and another traced her spine.

Emma pulled Jude to her, her mouth finding his, her body slick with sweat and nectar. He entered her again, and this time, it was different. Slower. Deeper. The vines curled around them, pulsing with every thrust.

The platform sang.

Their cries blended into the melody of the cave, the island, the world beyond. Rose rose above them all, lifted by vines like a goddess, her legs open, arms spread, hair falling like a black waterfall.

Jude felt it then.

Not just pleasure. But connection.

To the island. To them. To something vast and ancient and alive.

He came with Emma, his scream joining the chorus. Around him, the others were trembling, moaning, calling his name and each other’s. The vines responded, holding tighter, pulsing brighter.

The door behind them closed.

But no one looked back.

They weren’t trapped.

They had been chosen.

The glow in the chamber softened, no longer a pulse of anticipation but the steady thrum of satisfaction, of belonging. Jude lay on the lotus-shaped platform, his chest rising and falling, slick with sweat and the honeyed dew the vines had secreted over them all. Around him, his wives were sprawled in soft ecstasy - Rose still half-suspended in the air, her limbs curled like a goddess in slumber, Sophie nestled into Lucy’s shoulder, their fingers loosely intertwined, Emma asleep across Jude’s thigh, one leg lazily draped over his hips.

The vines had gone still for now, content, perhaps waiting. They weren’t oppressive, weren’t holding them anymore - they had simply become part of the floor, the walls, the air, retreating just enough to let them breathe and feel.

Zoey stretched first, a sleepy sigh tumbling from her lips. Her hair was tangled with petals, her eyes glowing faintly. "We’re not going back, are we?"

"No," Rose said softly from above, her voice floating down like mist. "We’re further than we’ve ever been."

Emma blinked up at Jude. "Are we still on the island?"

Sophie answered for him. "I think the island was just the skin. We’re in its soul now."

Jude nodded slowly. "The door wasn’t a threshold. It was a transformation."

Grace rolled over, resting her head on Stella’s bare stomach. "And we’re not afraid anymore."

For a long moment, they simply lay there, letting the heat of the chamber soothe their bodies. The room wasn’t cold, but it pulsed with a temperature uniquely tuned to them, like the island had memorized the rhythm of their bodies, their needs, their desires.

Lucy lifted her head, her voice still husky from moaning his name. "Jude..."

He turned toward her, brushing a damp strand of hair from her cheek.

Her eyes searched his. "Do you feel it? The change inside?"

He swallowed. "Yes. Like... I’ve been cracked open."

"And filled with light," Emma whispered, placing her hand over his heart.

Zoey chuckled softly. "With pleasure , more like."

Sophie smirked. "Pleasure is light, in the right hands."

Rose finally descended, the vines lowering her gently. She stepped across the platform, completely nude and utterly radiant. She knelt beside Jude and kissed his temple.

"You’ve done it," she whispered. "You accepted the song. You didn’t resist it. You trusted it."

He stared at her. "What happens now?"

She smiled. "Now... we sing it together."

The platform beneath them shifted, and all of them instinctively tensed - but it wasn’t danger. It was rhythm. Like a heartbeat. The vines stirred once more, but this time they didn’t reach to touch. They rippled outward, carrying their combined warmth into the earth itself.

The glow from the chamber dimmed, then expanded, crawling up the walls like sunrise over dark stone. And in that light, new shapes began to emerge - stories carved into the walls in gentle grooves, like hieroglyphs made from memory. They weren’t just drawings. They moved.

Emma gasped and pointed. "That’s us."

The images danced - Rose in the waterfall, Zoey at the altar, Stella in the river, Sophie with her blade drawn, Lucy entwined with Jude beneath the treehouse. Their entire journey was etched here, told in a language of light and movement.

Grace whispered, "We were always supposed to reach this place."

Zoey sat up, brushing a hand across the wall. The image shimmered beneath her fingers. "And it’s not finished."

A new scene began to unfold - Jude standing at the center of a circle, all twelve wives around him, all glowing, all singing. The chamber pulsed again, as if approving.

Sophie frowned. "But we’re missing some."

"Not all of us came through," Lucy said.

Stella nodded. "Natalie. Susan. Scarlet."

Jude sat up straighter. "We left them."

"No," Rose said firmly. "We prepared them. The door found the ones who were ready. But it will call again."

Zoey stretched her legs. "We’re supposed to help them next, aren’t we?"

Jude looked around at the women he loved. Each one so different, so bright in their own energy, and yet - now - they pulsed with the same rhythm. As if they weren’t just twelve women. They were twelve notes in one perfect chord.

"Yes," he said. "We go back."

The chamber didn’t shudder in protest. Instead, the vines retreated fully, clearing a soft path back toward the root-cracked opening. A soft breeze wafted in from beyond, carrying the scent of the island’s surface.

Rose moved first, walking toward the light without hesitation. The others followed, some nude, some wrapping silken leaves and woven vines around their hips and breasts like second skin. No shame. No embarrassment. They moved with reverence and power.

As Jude followed them, he felt it - not fear, not even excitement. It was purpose.

Back through the split tree, back through the glowing moss-lined tunnel, back through the outer cave, they emerged blinking into the light of a new day.