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Written by Amethyst Mare (Arian Mabe)

Commissioned by Whiz

He had been watching her.

Their team, if it could be called such with a band of scoundrels, was yet to be caught. They would turn on one another at a moment's notice but the leader, bearing a blood-stained mask depicting a ginger cat, had eyes for only one of his comrades. He had never seen her without the zebra mask on - they all took care to hide their true identities, but she was a sight to behold when blood glistened upon her blade. Only a katana of the finest quality would do for such a creature of death, a dark angel beyond his blood-lust fuelled dreams. She was at the head of the group leaving every raid, bodies strewn lifeless in her wake. Blasting into the night with explosions at her back, embers smouldered in her mane. She was a temptress, one of the divine.

And she would be his.

No matter that Corey had refused his advances prior. No one said no to Tony. It was simply not an option. Slouching on his battered, dirty crimson sofa, Tony threw his arm across the back, over Corey's shoulders.

"I said no."

She moved away, shrugging him off. Brow furrowing beneath the mask, which still concealed his features, Tony growled.

"Yeesh."

He swore Corey rolled her eyes, brown orbs barely visible through the hollow holes in her zebra persona, and anger stirred in his belly. She would learn.

As Corey, through with his after-killing ritual of trying to get in her pants, rose to her feet and padded to the door, he sprang into action. The moment had been well prepared for and he ripped open a bag containing a chloroform soaked cloth, suited to the occasion. Wrapping an arm around Corey's narrow chest, Tony pulled her to him and thrust the cloth between the mask and her neck, worming it up to clamp over her lips and nostrils. She struggled, but the concentrated cocktail sent her into a near instant stupor, limbs falling as limply as any belonging to a rag doll. Tony smirked, lips twisting horribly.

Dragging her to the bedroom with his hands tucked into the crooks of her arms, he allowed her to rest on her back upon the bed, tucking her black hair behind her neck where it protruded from the mask. The action was almost loving and he took a moment to stroke down the curve or her neck with one, rough fingertip, hands calloused.

Cutting her loose combat trousers away with his hip knife - a true artist never laid his weapons aside - Tony marvelled at the creamy skin of her thighs. Her underwear was remarkable modest, simply a black pair of ladies boxer-briefs, and he stroked between her legs gently before slicing them off. She was dry, of course she was. She had not had the chance to be wooed and seduced by him, to cling to him as so many other women had done in the past. Corey would come to him willingly, one day. Until then, this would have to suffice.

He slipped off his ripped jeans and kicked them aside. Boxers followed, though he felt no need to remove his shirt, despite the sweat stains. Later, he could shower, and the cool caress of water would be all the more delicious after the act, with his little goddess. A bottle of lubricant resided in the drawer of the rickety bedside table and he scrambled for it, clumsy in his eagerness, now that the moment had finally arrived. He warmed the bottle in his hands, only then squeezing a generous dose on to his fingers. Smearing the viscous liquid on to Corey's pussy, avoiding the neatly trimmed hair, he groaned, arousal swelling. He needed no such preparation for himself, though he ensured that she was slick inside, easing in two fingers to stretch a tight passage. When had she last had sex? He shivered. Maybe he was the first in a long time. Maybe she had waited for him.

Pushing over Corey, Tony nudged her legs apart, letting her take his weight as he violated her. So hot and tight! He savoured the feeling, breath coming in short, harsh gasps. Resting on his palms, elbows bent, Tony took her roughly, thrusting as deep as his body permitted. Corey would be sore when she woke but that was none of his concern. Tony leaned down, nuzzling into her neck and sucking at the delicate skin, drawing blood to the surface in a series of possessive bites. He wanted her to see what he had done when she next looked in the mirror. Mask bumping the curved cheek of hers, he huffed out a groan and thrust hard, hips moving in desperate rhythm, pounding, pumping to ecstasy. He imagined her clinging to him, rocking with his thrusts. One day, she would.

It did not take long for him to reach orgasm, ejaculating into his goddess with a manly grunt of release. Sweat beaded on his biceps, dripping on to the woman below him, his seed marking her cunt as _his_and his alone. It was so sweet to finally have her as he should. In a flash of hazy consideration, he realised Corey may not be on the pill: that was her problem, not his.

Stroking the side of her zebra mask in a lover's caress, he slipped his hand under her tank-top, feeling her toned abdomen, and drifted into a contented slumber brought on by victory forcibly taken.

It was the only kind of triumph he knew.

*

Corey woke slowly, the drug fogging her senses. The world seemed different. She had no trousers on, but the shreds of them were neatly piled on a strange bed with marked sheets, where she rested. It did not take a genius to figure out what had happened, taking into account the soreness between her thighs. She shuddered.

Leaping to her feet, thankfully still clad in sturdy boots, Corey bolted for the door, tearing through the hallway to the living room. She snatched up her Miami Dolphins jacket mid-stride from where she had earlier dumped it earlier and a hand closed around her hair as she darted for the front door. Pain seared through her scalp, bringing tears to her eyes. A cloth covered the breathing holes in her mask and she kicked out, reaching for a weapon that was not there, even as her struggles became weaker and weaker, body succumbing while her mind screamed. Tony chuckled hoarsely, skin bare and damp from the shower he had so rudely abandoned to re-capture his prize. His mask tilted askew, morbid in the glaring blood stains around the empty, hollow eye sockets.

"I'll take care of you," Tony whispered as she sank into the blackness, holding her tightly to her chest.

He stroked her hair, twisting his fingers between the thick, luscious locks. What a prize indeed...

"And I'll never let you go."