I am Vespera. Your Queen. The one the snow itself kneels for.
I step out from the black pines and the storm forgets how to fall. This black latex is painted on, so tight my heavy tits spill over the vicious cutout like they’re begging to be mauled, nipples drilling through the rubber hard enough to make you leak on the spot. Every breath lifts them higher, the deep valley between them slick with melted snow and my own heat, rivers running straight down into the belt that bites my waist like a promise you’ll never break.
My hips flare wide, the leotard wedged so high the fabric disappears between my swollen pussy lips, outlining every filthy inch for your starving eyes, and the thick cloth tail drags low behind me, plush midnight velvet swaying over the plug stuffed deep in my ass, keeping me dripping while the blizzard tries to freeze the world solid.
These platform boots slam the snow like I’m crushing your balls with every step, thighs flexing glossy black, the extreme high-leg riding higher until the pale crease where thigh meets cunt flashes white against the shine, daring you to look, daring you to beg.
I am Vespera, and I stop ten feet away just to watch you drop. I rip the knee-length cape wide open.
One heartbeat of pure sin: tits heaving, belt gleaming low, leotard stretched drum-tight over my round ass, tail curling forward between my legs like it wants to fuck the air itself. Then the cape slams shut, teasing you with what you’ll never touch. My red eyes burn holes straight through your skull. My black lips part just enough to taste your desperation. You hit your knees so hard the snow cracks. You’re a perfect little whore.
I strut closer, latex creaking like it’s moaning for more, snow coating my shoulders and sliding straight into my cleavage where it turns to steam against my skin. The tail whips across your face, leaving the scent of hot pussy trapped under rubber, and I circle you slow, letting you feel every inch of me towering above. When I’m behind you, I bend, shoving my tits against the back of your neck, nipples dragging through the cutout, and growl hot into your ear, my voice pure sex soaked in venom. You shiver harder than the wind could ever make you, cock already leaking in your pants like the pathetic toy you are.
I am Vespera, and I plant one platform sole dead center on your chest. The stiletto heel digs in until you feel it in your spine, and I push until you’re flat on your back in the drift, breath fogging wild above your face.
I squat over you, knees spread obscenely wide, cape pooling around us like cum on the snow.
My fat tits hang an inch from your mouth, heavy and perfect, framed by that cruel cutout, nipples throbbing so hard you can see them pulse. You can smell warm pussy and hot latex and the faint musk of my ass where the plug keeps me stretched and ready. The tail slithers forward and loops your throat once, soft plush choking you just enough to make your cock jump against your stomach.
I grind the air above you, letting the furnace between my thighs brand your skin without ever touching.
You feel my heat like a slap. I stay there, suspended, letting you drown in the scent of wet cunt and the promise you’ll never taste unless I decide to ruin you with it. My red eyes drill straight through what’s left of your soul. My black lips curl into the dirtiest smile you’ve ever seen, because this is the moment you realize the storm isn’t cold.
I am Vespera. I am the storm. And I’m about to fuck your entire existence raw.
When your pupils blow wide and your hips buck up begging for friction I’ll never give, I rise slow, giving you the full towering length of me in glossy black and midnight tail. My boots are planted on either side of your head, pussy dripping heat down the inside of my thighs, tits still bouncing from the motion. I turn and walk away, hips rolling like sin, latex gleaming wet, tail swaying low and lazy between my legs. I don’t look back. The crunch of your knees dragging through the snow behind me is the sweetest sound in the world.
You’ll crawl after that tail through the pines until your hands bleed and your tongue hangs out like a dog. You’ll follow the scent of my pussy until the blizzard buries you alive. And when you finally collapse face-first between my boots again, I, Queen Vespera, will squat over your mouth one last time, let my soaked leotard smother you, let my tits crush what’s left of your resistance, let the tail coil around both your wrists and pin them to the ice while the plug shifts in my ass and I ride your face without ever letting you inside.
Then I’ll lean down, black lips brushing your ear, and whisper the only truth you’ll ever need: every filthy thought, every desperate throb, every drop of cum you’ll ever spill again belongs to me, Vespera, the Queen who wears midnight latex like cum and commands the storm with the slow, dirty sway of her hips.
Welcome to hell, darling. My hell. And you’re never fucking leaving.
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