Shadows of the Tundra
Copyright© 2026 by Dilbert Jazz
Prologue: Avalanche
Erotica Sex Story: Prologue: Avalanche - In the remote, snow-buried mountains of Eldridge Peak, Alaska, Lyra Harlan returns to claim what her wicked stepmother Seraphina stole—her father's life. Through a dark, possessive BDSM triad with rugged guide Cade, Lyra transforms revenge into total ownership, collaring Seraphina in leather and steel. As rival dominant Isolde threatens to reclaim her past conquest, the three face isolation, storms, and raw surrender. A chilling tale of power, pain, and unbreakable devotion—where choice becomes
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Mult Blackmail Coercion Consensual Reluctant Lesbian BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Cheating Mother Daughter BDSM DomSub MaleDom FemaleDom Humiliation Light Bond Rough Sadistic Spanking Torture Group Sex Harem Polygamy/Polyamory Anal Sex Analingus Cream Pie Double Penetration Exhibitionism Facial Masturbation Oral Sex Pegging Sex Toys Squirting Tit-Fucking Voyeurism BBW Body Modification Public Sex 2nd POV Caution ENF Violence AI Generated
The night was black as oil, the kind of dark that swallowed sound and spit it back as echoes.
Snow fell thick and fast, driven sideways by a wind that howled through the pass like something alive and angry.
Harlan rode the old snowmobile up the ridge trail alone, headlamp cutting a narrow white tunnel through the storm.
The machine was heavy, reliable—his father’s old Arctic Cat, rebuilt a dozen times.
He trusted it.
He had trusted it for twenty years.
Seraphina watched from the ridge overlook.
She stood half-hidden behind a cluster of spruce, coat hood pulled low, breath fogging in short, controlled bursts.
The wind tore at her, but she didn’t move.
She had timed it perfectly: the storm at its worst, the trail already treacherous from fresh powder, the drop-off on the left side of the path steep enough to bury anything that went over.
She had waited two weeks.
Two weeks of minor adjustments: brake fluid mixed with antifreeze in a sealed container, lines loosened just enough, a test ride when Harlan was in Anchorage.
She had watched him leave that afternoon—said goodbye at the door, kissed his cheek, told him to be careful.
He had smiled, the same tired, trusting smile he always gave her.
Now the headlamp bobbed along the trail, a single yellow eye in the white.
She waited.
The machine reached the switchback—the one she had chosen.
The spot where the trail narrowed was where the snowpack had become unstable after three days of heavy snowfall.
She had ridden it herself the week before, felt the way the ground shifted under the skis.
The headlamp slowed.
Harlan was cautious—he always was—but the storm was worse than the forecast.
Visibility near zero.
Wind is pushing the machine sideways.
Seraphina’s heart beat once, twice, steady.
The brakes would fail.
The trail would give.
The drop would take him.
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