"The only thing that'll end up on the ground today are your clothes, witch!" What a sight it was. The great mastermind of the West completely deprived of her clothing, positively spotlit by the merciless apocalyptic light of the setting sun. This was, then, the piece of ass at the top of the pyramid: a stately, curvaceous beauty with impeccable snow white breasts, each crowned with a stiff rosy nipple, generous hips, and a hint of fire-red bush peeking out from behind her last remaining article of clothing: (Patreon)