Latex warfield

Tanya Danielle sagged in the chair. She’d lost. General no more. Anastasia Pierce circled behind her in high-gloss black latex that squeaked with every move. Jewell Marceau knelt in front, fingers sliding up Tanya’s open collar. They worked her slowly: mouth, nipples, clit. Jewell’s tongue flicked, relentless. Anastasia’s strap pressed against Tanya’s lower back, slick with lube, nudging deeper each time Tanya moaned. Information spilled between gasps. No one else in the room cared about rank anymore—only how wet Tanya was, how many times she came, how much more she still had left to give.