Shadows of the Tundra
Copyright© 2026 by Dilbert Jazz
Epilogue – Until the Mountains Fall
Erotica Sex Story: Epilogue – Until the Mountains Fall - 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
June had returned to Eldridge Peak in full, riotous bloom.
The ridge was alive with color: fireweed blazed magenta along the creek banks, lupine stood tall in purple spires, and yarrow dotted the clearings like scattered snow. The air was warm, soft with the scent of sun-heated pine needles and wild roses. The valley below shimmered green-gold under a sky so blue it looked painted. The cabin had changed, too—Cade had extended the porch last fall, adding an expansive deck with two rocking chairs that faced the endless view. A small greenhouse now stood against the east wall, glass panes fogged with humidity, Seraphina’s herbs and greens thriving inside.
Seraphina stepped out onto the deck barefoot, two coffee mugs balanced in her hands.
She wore a simple linen dress—cream, sleeveless, falling just above the knee.
The permanent leather collar remained, black against pale skin, the small padlock catching the morning sun.
The thin steel chain still draped beneath the neckline, the two tags—Property and Forever—resting side by side over her heart.
She had not asked to remove either.
Not once in the year since the blizzard.
Lyra sat in one of the rocking chairs, legs stretched out, a tablet balanced on her knee—reviewing the latest mine royalty statements, the numbers still steady, the inheritance secure.
She looked up when Seraphina approached and set the tablet aside.
“Coffee?” Seraphina offered, voice soft, almost shy.
Lyra took the mug and tugged Seraphina down onto her lap.
Seraphina settled easily—back against Lyra’s chest, legs draped over the armrest, head resting on Lyra’s shoulder.
Lyra’s free arm wrapped around her waist, fingers tracing idle patterns over the linen, brushing the faint scars that still lingered from the early months: rope burns, welts, the occasional bite mark that had faded to silver.
Cade appeared from the side yard—shirtless, jeans dusted with sawdust, carrying a freshly planed cedar plank.
He had been finishing the greenhouse shelves—something for Seraphina to tend through the following winter, fresh greens to break the monotony of canned supplies.
He paused at the bottom of the steps, wiped sweat from his brow, and looked at them both.
“Morning,” he said, voice low and rough from disuse.
Seraphina smiled—small, radiant, unguarded.
“Morning, Master.”
Cade climbed the steps, leaned the plank against the railing, and knelt in front of the chair.
He took Seraphina’s bare foot in his hands, massaged the arch gently, thumbs working into the places that still ached after long nights on her knees.
“You sleep okay?” he asked.
Seraphina nodded.