Beware of those girls with the dullness in their eyes, for they are the ones

who's souls latch onto yours and

strip you of all

you've come to hold close–

Sad girls, They call them.

I call them Mad girls.

Fiction has nothing on you, pretty, dirty girl. In fact, nobody does.

The universe envied you. For they couldn't guide me the way the freckles scattered across your back do.

Stars glare down at us as I trail my fingers down each of those dusky dots; using them as a map

that guides me home. If only they knew,

When I think of Home, I think of you.

– I was lost but now I'm found.

I want out of this maze I've trapped myself in.

I want out of you.

Your smiles chafe me,

your frustrating heart slows mine down

to the point where I'm sure it too,

believes it's dead and every time

I hear you apologize

because you can't

love me,

I'm quite sure my skin scabs.

Lick me, you breathe and you beg, your fingers restless against cold sheets that warm under the fire your body starts.

And when my mouth is kissing not your lips above but the ones between your thighs, your legs will split apart and your moans will become music I endeavor to hear over and over again, your cries rising like breathless and needy crescendos.

That's when I'll pull you in, that's when I'll take all you have to give. That's when my own fire will rise and my flames will burn brighter against our skin, against the passion you've unleashed inside me without knowing how you did so.

Dear Penny,

I've dreamt about you for three days, a fact I'm guilt ridden over considering I've spent those three days in a home that isn't my own and warming a bed that's much of the same.

In each dream you come back wearing your smile, your curls and your perfume that reminds me of summer rain, gentle sex and roses.

In each dream you seek me out, draw me in and then pull me under with the brutality of a person skilled in the art of heartbreak.

Yet, despite knowing the pain I'll endure, I take your hand, for you are life among death, the light to vanish the dark; the balm to ease to my tortured soul.

Dear Penny, I've realized what I was lacking in my life. It wasn't anything one can purchase at a store–

Wait, scratch that.

I've just doubly realized that in this case what I wanted did, in fact, come from a store; a little thrift shop off central on a particularly damned day, might I add. Inside this shop I found what I'd been missing for so long: the match to spark the flame onto my kerosene– a muse, Penny.

And by that, I mean you.

(( Coming soon))

Dear God Have mercy on my soul, were the last thoughts turning over inside of Marcus's head as the pain coursing through his body had rendered him lifeless.

Marcus Hale's screams were muffled by the black duct tape covering his mouth, his throat clenching painfully with the need to retch and gag but being unable to, courtesy of silk lined bralette stuck in his mouth. A parting gift by his lovely mistress, Tanya who was humming to herself as she counted her nights money and adjusted her bra, unaware her lover was currently getting just what he deserved, blindfolded, bounded to his bed, spread eagled and humiliated... And well, dead.

Or was she completely unaware?

She'd never tell.

With one last swipe of her fingers against the smudged corner of her lipstick, she slammed her compact mirror shut and after placing it inside her bag and ruffling her hair, was on her way with the slightest a of smirks on her face.

Her kitten heels clicked against the pavement as she hummed a tune to herself, recalling the evenings previous events that had led her to this predicament, just as she always did with these things.

Marcus Hale was married to a lovely woman named Denise, was a successful accountant, an avid charity giver and an overall good man...

Or so his wife thought.

Behind closed doors and out of sight, Marcus Hale wasn't as polished as he seemed. Gone was the nice, dimpled smile and was replaced with a cold, empty look as he sat back in his office every night and did excessive lines of coke and received not one, but two blow jobs from his secretaries while his wife slaves over her kitchen preparing his dinner with hopes that they'd finally have the baby talk he seemed to avoid.

Poor thing had no clue her husband wasn't evading the subject because he was stressed out as he said, but because he was cheating scum who enjoyed his whores and his drugs much more than his loving wife and their marriage.

Each night Denise would find herself sleeping alone, wondering if there was something wrong with her husband, the love of her life who she's taken vows with and if so, what she could do to fix it...

Each night, Marcus hale fùcked a new prostitute in the same Holiday Inn room, under the alias Harold Surnam, not a care nor thought in the world of what his wife's feelings were.

Denise to him had been the easy way out, the high school sweetheart who's virginity he'd taken at prom nearly ten years ago and who his parents adored to the point of forcing a marriage in exchange for his inheritance and a high rise job.

A bastard is what came to mind when thinking of Marcus, remorse for him at the moment not existing at all. He'd approached her, claiming to have seen her face somewhere but without actually knowing who she was and how much she knew of him and his secrets.

At first it had been casual touches, a brush of a shoulder, a slight finger graze over her hand, an accidental crotch over her àss claiming "oh I'm so sorry, it was my mistake,"...little things that had alerted her just how much of a leech he really was.

But she was nothing if not consistent, Painting her smile as flirty, batting her eyelashes just right, playing the role he expected, the airhead whore who'd bend to his will and spread her legs when needed, taking his hotel room key for whenever he'd need her...

Only she'd not spread her legs, not taken his key, but teased him, took his composure and frayed it to its jagged end, taunting him with fiery kisses and perfume laced touches, dragging Marcus Hale further and further down a path of obsession for his newest toy so far that he'd forgone to call his wife and tell her he'd be late because of yet another office mishap, instead leaving caution to the wind and heading the opportunity to finally have what he'd been lusting over for the past three months.

His mistake had been not recognizing her, not realizing who she really was... But it wasn't his fault, none of them ever realized until it was too late.

•••

Marcus had been sloppy, paying his hotel room this time by credit card, leaving a paper trail towards his whereabouts, none of that mattering to him being as his mind was only centered on one thing, one person...

His expectations had been high as he'd entered that dreaded hotel room, those beady eyes landed directly onto the female body with her back facing his front, her hair cascading over her shoulder as she sat in the most sensual of lingerie, as if waiting for his touch...

Beautiful, he thought, so fûcking Beautiful.

Meanwhile as her back was turned, her smirk grew wide as she heard his breath catch at the sight of her. Gullible she thought, so fûcking gullible.

"You're a vision," he breathed, tugging the knot of his tie, the material around his neck becoming constraining to his proper breathing the longer he stood in the seductive beauty's presence. His eyes drank in the silhouette of her body, his pupils darkening with desire over every curve that seemed just right. His hands itched to run through those soft looking curls and fist them in his hands, make her scream his name as did many others, his wife included. "I've waited so long to have you this way," he whispered, despite the room being eerily quiet.

Finally after Marcus felt he'd burst at the seams, she turned her face slightly towards him, gazing from under her lashes, she spoke. "Is that so?" She murmured, her voice oddly alluring despite its hushed tone. Marcus's breath caught, arousal flooding his senses just at that one detail, shifting against his feet uneasily.

"Yes," he croaked, clearing his throat. "I don't think I've ever wanted a woman more,"

At this her eyebrow raised, one perfect arch showcasing her disbelief as the faintest of smiles curved her red painted lips, "There's no need for flattery darling, you've gotten me where you want me.”

Marcus craned his head sideways, a disbelieving laugh leaving his lips as he closed the distance between them, Tanya's back turning when she felt his hands rest on her shoulders, feeling his fingers tighten over them.

"That's right, I did. Didn't I?" He smirked and she inwardly rolled her eyes, rage burning deep within her as she nodded once, humming to herself as if his clumsy hands over her shoulders held any ounce of pleasure for her. "What should I do to you now... We have all night,"

her eyes narrowed, her skin bristling in disgust at this disgusting swine of a man throwing himself at her with boyish pickup lines and boring sexual games. "I bet we do," she murmured, faking it as best as she knew how, her smile growing when Marcus growled quietly to himself when his hands drifted across the straps of her bra, pulling each one down over the curve of her shoulders, leaving her breasts barely concealed within the silken lined bra.

Marcus pulse leaped and his breathing slowed each second he spent caressing her shoulders, his lips replacing his hands as he ghosted over the base of her neck, feeling smug and full of male pride at the way her body shivered.

Too easy, he thought to himself.

Tanya's lip curled, her patience running less and less with each second she lured him further into her, tilting her head slightly just so he could keep administering his moist lips sloppily over her neck, groaning as he did so.

She wanted to throw up until her stomach acids choked and killed her, he repulsed her being just by breathing...

Yet ever the actress, she played into the game, whimpering and biting her lip when he tugged on her earlobe, arching her back when his hands cupped her breasts and tugged at them, all the while thinking to herself just why she hated this part of the job...

However it was when Marcus brought up his wife that the band on her composure nearly snapped.

"My wife isn't this sensual, hasn't been for years," he groaned as he knelt before her, pressing his lips against her inner thighs, groaning huskily at the sight of the silk covering her, his mind already picturing how he'd savor what lay beneath the material with his fingers. "I haven't been with her properly in months, All I can seem to think of is you.”

Her hands clenched into fists at the sides.

Marcus misleading it for a pleasurable reaction to his touches, kept going, using his hands to part her thighs wider and graze his thumbs over the outside edges of her panties, "God, I want you so damn bad, I can't help it," he'd said when she remained quiet, his eyes gazing up at hers as he removes his hands to yank off his tie abruptly, "do you want me, too?"

Well would you fancy that, the inconsiderate prick has an insecure side...

Instead of replying, she lowered her face just until it rested slightly above his, her hands cupping his cheeks ever so softly as she stared into his eyes, a half smile on her lips, "I'll show you," she breathed just as she pressed her lips against his, nearly rolling her eyes when he responded by kissing her back eagerly, his hands already straying towards her hips as he sat up on his knees and touched his tongue to hers.

She moved quickly, her anger for poor Denise overflowing from her pores, starting at her fingertips and ending at her toes the longer she heard him groan her name instead of his wife's. She took control of the situation, pushing him off her when she was sure he'd thought he'd get more, her heel holding him at arms length when he attempted to lean forward, "we're doing this my way, darling..." She said in her most sultriest voice, making sure to run her tongue over her lips as she watched with amusement as Marcus touched his own lips with his fingers, nodding his head at what she said. "You'll like it,"

Marcus, as if held in a daze, nodded his head, running his hands up the inside of her knees, his mind running with sensual ideas of what she had in store for him. "Anything you want, I'm yours," he murmured, his heart thumping wildly in his chest the longer he stared into her eyes, so feminine and almost feline he couldn't help but lick his lips.

He'd bow to her every whim, contort however she wanted just as long as she spared him a glance. Marcus had been dangling by a sexual frustration thread that had been fraying each day he went without this woman.

No more, he decided, today was the start of an scorching affair that he'd hold on to until he sated the lust burning his body.

She rose to her feet, delicately unclipping the bra confining her chest and slipping it off, dangling it against her pointer finger as she bit down onto her lip and beckoned Marcus forward, "Follow me..." She purred, her malicious intents driving her forward, her thoughts starting to cloud as endless images of his poor wife Denise crying herself to sleep, wondering, always wondering what she'd been doing wrong and why her husband had turned so distant... It was those images that spurred her on.

She was amused by him following her on his knees, she was always amused by how low these high powered men pushed themselves for her when their lust took over, turning them from pristine business men to uncontrollable animals.

All of them were the same, all of them had to be taught a lesson...

And it would be her to give it to them.

Marcus laid himself onto the hotel bed, his breaths coming out in short pants as he stared up at the object of his desires, his lip being bitten between his teeth as he romanced over her body with lustful thoughts. She grinned, showcasing white teeth and a glint in her eyes that accompanied by the dim lighting in the room, made her look dangerous and full of mystery.

He was simply a puppet to her, moving when she said, speaking when spoken to. She demanded he strip his clothing, claiming how desperate she was to see his toned body and nearly gagging as she said the words. Marcus stripped quickly, his movements so rushed and clumsy he nearly stumbled upon his shoes as he stepped out of them.

The entire time she stared back impassively, her lip twitching with a smirk at the sight of Marcus's erection slapping against his lower stomach.

Well...she supposed not everyone could be endowed.

He resembled a scared little boy, standing there naked and waiting for her approval of his body, waiting for her to make a move, for she was skittish like a wild cat, one wrong move and she'd run and he couldn't have that.

He had to have her before he went fûcking insane.

No, he'd play her rules tonight, let her have her fun but after this it would be him running the show, his orders and his way just as it had been with all the other women to grace his bed...

Tanya kneeled onto the bed, placing her palms over her thighs and cocking her head sideways, an impish smile on her lips, her hair tossed over her shoulders. "Come lay down for me, please," she murmured in that sweet voice of hers. He obliged, coming to lay on his back across the sheets, licking his lips at the sight of her staring down at his body with her eyebrow arched and her lips in a smirk.

He nearly came on the spot when she straddled his waist and placed her hands over his stomach, his eyes rolling to the back of his head along with a groan leaving his lips when she dragged her nails across the ridges of his abs... "Fúck," he hissed, biting his lip hard, completely void of the murderous look being placed into his face as Tanya's disgust at him grew to a full powered hatred, festering inside of her like a cancerous cell spreading through her veins.

"I just don't know what I did wrong, he won't even look at me sometimes," Denise's voice rang into her ears, memories recalling the woman sitting in her kitchen bench with a mug of tea in her hands, tears trailing down her cheeks. "We haven't been intimate in so long and when we do it's like he's not even in the room with me..."

Her nails dug harder into Marcus's stomach, sending his eyes open and towards hers in a mix of shock, pain and pleasure that made a deep groan leave his lips. His hands moved towards her hips but before he could overpower her like she knew he wanted, she gripped his hands into each of hers and lifted them up and above his head, distracting his questioning gaze and distracting him with her body, pushing herself over his shaft and slightly rocking against it. "Oh, baby..." He groaned, pushing upwards, restless with need to envelop himself into her waiting hear that smothered over his cóck. "Is this a roleplay? Are you going to be the dominatrix and me your willing sex slave? I can roll with that," he said, letting out a half hearted laugh when he felt the metal restrain his wrists, followed by a quiet chuckle.

"Something like that," she said bluntly, all traces of playing her part as the willing mistress dissipating as soon as she knew he'd been fully restrained and nowhere near able to move towards her.

"How does it feel?" She asked calmly, smiling down at his confused face, touching across his cheek tenderly when she saw him gulp yet respond a croaky fine under his breath as he looked up at her, "try not to struggle big boy," she said with a smirk as her eyes admired her work of fully restraining the man without breaking news her stride.

Marcus licked his lips, sweat dotting his brow with each stroke of her séx against him, the silk running over his skin sending a pleasurable friction and a shiver to rack his body from head to toe, "baby doll, this will end too soon if you keep that up," he groaned out through his teeth, frustrated at himself and his bodily reactions when he wanted to make it last and not cum like a horny teen.

He wanted to ride it out, savor her curves slowly and make her feel only an ounce of the pleasure she was giving him, make her feel what she'd made him suffer for months with her teasing and her indifference. "Please, s-Stop," he stuttered, his toes curling and his back arching as he felt her nails dig into the center of his chest and her hips rotate around him harder than before.

"It's like the man i married isn't there anymore..." Denise's frustrated cries echoed again in Tanya's ears, visuals of her gritting her teeth and running her hand over her hair replaying in her mind. "He hates me, I know he does,"

Blue eyes snapped open, staring

down against Marcus's withering body, her lip curling into a grimace as she recalled another visual of poor Denise, this time hiding behind dark sunglasses as she sat yet again in her kitchen.

"What on earth happened to you?" She demanded once she saw the other woman cringe in response and adjust her sunglasses, her bruised left eye still coming into Tanya's view despite how she tried to hide it. Denise had stammered, flustered she'd been discovered and tried to lie, saying she had an accident and had fallen against the door handle. "Don't lie, what the fúck is this?" She'd snapped once the bruise was in her eyesight completely, sweeping her eye in pinkish, purple markings.

"It's nothing, Marcus is just stressed out with work, he-he...I-it was an accident, he didn't mean to," Denise had stuttered, tears flowing in her eyes as her bottom lip trembled, "God, it was an accident, please don't tell, don't tell,"

Tanya removed herself off of Marcus's lap in a haste, feeling disgust at the swine laying underneath her, begging her to come back, to finish him off, to please do anything... She turned her back to him, tugging at the roots of her hair harshly, a muffled growl leaving her lips, picturing the other woman crying in her kitchen each and every time, yet another good girl being played by a pretty faced loser who didn't know what he had.

Bastards,

All of them...

"Baby doll," he groaned, gaining Tanya's attention as she composed herself briefly, turning towards him with a barely there smile he didn't notice, "please, don't just leave me like this,"

She turned her body fully, her eyes narrowing against his flushed face, anger making her hands clench together into fists. His eyes widened at the sight of the hospitality vibrating off her body, confusion lacing his tone when he asked her what was wrong. "What's wrong? Why on earth would you think something's wrong?" She asked him quietly, a grin stretching her lips wide as she ran her fingernails just across his arm, trailing upwards towards his wrist.

"Tell me something, and be honest," she said casually, yanking against his wrist hard and giggling to herself when he hissed in a sharp pain that traveled down his arm, "oh, I'm sorry, did that hurt? My mistake, I figured you a glutton for pain," she snarled at him and he winced in response.

"What are you talking about?" He asked, his tone wavering as he watched the girl he'd been ready to seduce, circle him. He laughed lightly, shaking his head in amusement as he cleared his throat and attempted to speak again, "come back to bed, untie me and we'll have a fun night..."

She pressed her lips into a thin line, stopping next to her discarded bra, grabbing it between her fingertips and slightly hitting it against her palm in a whipping motion, a chuckle leaving her at the sight of Marcus begging. "All of you men, so selfish, so idiotic, so....so, fúcking stupid," she hissed, her lip curling in disgust towards him.

"What are you-

"Silence!" She snapped at him, her voice raising, "I want you to shut your fúcking mouth and listen. Can you handle that?"

Marcus fell silent.

"Good boy," she said with a condescending tone, walking towards his now fearful body that was lining with goosebumps due to the air conditioning in the room misting his flushed skin. She placed her hand against his thigh, her lips pouting in mock sadness at how he flinched in response.

"Back to my question," she stayed sweetly, humming to herself as she made quick work of reaching under the bed and finding her purse which had everything she'd need to finish this task. Marcus kept asking her what was going on, what was she doing, over and over again and making her head spin with all the answers he wanted that she'd never give. "Let's talk about your wife, Denise. Shall we?"

At this Marcus's eyes went wide, his mouth falling open but no words coming out, "I..." He trailed off, shutting his eyes then opening them back up quickly as if clearing his head from what had turned in a different direction than he'd hoped.

Tanya leaned one knee against the bed, her purse by her side as she reached into it, pulling out each item and waving it in his general direction with a smile, "don't scream nor shout because I hate loud noises and really, we're two adults having a conversation. There's no need for any of that," she said dismissively as she snapped on a pair of dark leather gloves over her hands, "right?"

"What the fuck is going on here?" Marcus demanded, swallowing the lump in his throat at the sight of a roll of duct tape coming into his view and resting next to his thigh. "Untie me," he snapped and Tanya raised both her eyebrows in amusement, "now,"

She chuckled, completely amused by the sudden puff of his chest. It seemed the man had forgotten his current predicament and that he was actually her bitch and not the other way around. Her hands opened and closed, the leather folding over her fingertips as she sent him a taunting smirk that chilled him to his core. "No, I am not going to untie you and do you know why?" She asked rhetorically, "because what is going to happen here, at this moment is that I'm going to reveal my true identity to you after you explain to me why you think it's fun to cheat on your wife,"

"You hypocritical bitch!" Marcus snarled at her, "how dare you judge me? Demand anything from me when you've been leading me on for months, taunting me with your fúcking teasing!" He shouted, yanking at the metal restraining his wrists hard, biting back a wince at the pain slicing his skin. "Why the fuck do you care what I do with my wife? Mind your business and be a good little whore, just like the others before you,"

"My, My he has a temper after all," she mused, running her gloved finger across his knee, sniggering when he recoiled from her touch with a glare in her direction, "but weren't you just begging for me to touch you? How did it go again..." She mumbled absently then put on her deepest male voice and placed her hand over her bare chest and tilted her head sideways, "oh fuck, baby...please touch me, sùck my díck a little, please...ugh please please,"

"Did I get that correctly?" She asked him, red lips forming a pout and both hands placed over her chest, "you're upset with me, and here I thought we were good friends,"

"Fuck you," he spat, curling his lip upwards then extending them as he attempted to actually spit in her direction, the saliva missing her and instead landing onto his stomach. "What the hell do you want from me? Money? A job? Fùcking tell me and then let me get on with my life, psychotic bítch,"

She was throughly amused by his anger, chuckling to herself then raising both eyebrows towards where he'd been hit by his saliva. "See that's what you wanted wasn't it? For me to be a good little whore like you said, to spread my legs and let you run your filthy hands over my body, touch me however you wanted and for me to let it happen with a smile.... Am I right?" When Marcus clenched his jaw, settling his eyes towards her, she gave a half grin and shrugged, "of course I am."

Marcus went to give her another retort, maybe tell her where she could go at the moment before he started shouting for help when his words were frozen at the sight of the gleaming reflection of the knife blade staring back at him.

In the dim lighting of the room, accompanied by the moonlight peeking from the drapes cast an eerie glow against her pale skin, the color of her eyes seeming eerie as they trained themselves on him. "What's the matter big boy? Not so tough when you're outmatched?" She taunted, "I thought you liked a little pain, or is your fetish causing it?"

He kept silent, pissing her off more than she already was.

She walked forward, stopping right over his face, the tip of the bald pressing against his chin as she smiled, a genuine happy smile that stupidly entranced yet scared him at the same time. "Answer me," she hissed at him, pressing it just against his chin, watching the thin line of red form underneath the pressure of the blade as the skin started to break apart, her actions only stopping when he spoke up.

"I-I... I'm into that," he stammered, sweat gathering against his brows as panic ran its course through his body, fear lacing his eyes the longer he stood in the presence of the woman before him. "Bdsm, gagging, whipping, all of it... All of us men at the country club are into that! It's not just me!"

"Go on," she urged, icy blue eyes narrowing at him in suspicion. "Tell me more,"

Marcus swallowed the lump in his throat, nodding along nervously, "it's because our wives are prudes, stuck up bitches who won't put out...but there's a place we go, it's called The Red Ace, we all go there and meet with women who are into that, the heavy shit like suspension and air play...the owner only hires the best whores for us to play with,"

Marcus was silenced when a gloved hand cracked him across the face, her strength catching him off guard when the tang of blood assaulted his mouth, "piece of shít, they're not toys, they're women! Actual human beings that aren't there for you or your disgusting leech friends to amuse yourselves with." She spat, jerking his chin towards her and squeezing her thumb and pointer finger together, causing his cheeks to hollow in her grasp.

"Theyfetpaifforthag" Marcus attempted to speak, the words they get paid for that not being pronounced properly due to her hands and where they were placed.

"The Red Ace, hmm..." she said to herself as a devious idea started to form inside of her mind at the possibilities of this newfound information she's just gotten. Marcus's eyes widened in fear at having heard her, "you, my little plaything have just given me a lovely idea," she smirked, pushing his face away only to reach for her discarded knife and place it against the bedside table then grab onto her abandoned bra along with her duct tape.

"Since you're going to be loud and disregard my orders then here is what's going to happen," she said casually, rolling her eyes at Marcus screams for help. "I really didn't want to admit this before you were quieted down but since you seem to be doubting just what I'll do if you piss me off..." She trailed off, shaking her head as she pushed away from the shouting, naked man tied to a bed and headed towards the bathroom a few feet away...

She turned at the last minute, those eyes of hers seeming to darken into endless seas of black ocean staring back at him as she kicked the door open behind her, revealing just what she meant.

There lain on the white linoleum tiled floors of the ensuite was the slumped form of what Marcus could tell was a male Hotel worker, his white collar shirt now stained a deep red that matched the thick splotches marring the floor around his body, a single knife similar to the one by the bed sticking out of the center of his back.

"He as such a sweet thing, so polite to me until he started asking questions, who I was to you.... If I charged the same as the others did," she mused, tossing her hair over her shoulder without glancing behind her. "I can be quiet bitchy when I'm angry, I'm sure you understand these things."

Marcus was stunned silent, tests burning behind his closed eyelids as he looked away from the gore splattered over the floor, the young man's blood painting a vivid image inside his mind.

He'd fùcked up, big time.

He should've stayed home.

Should've called his wife.

Hell, he should've gone home to his wife and just held her tight, vowed to be better...not this, he never expected this.

It was too late now.

Tanya grinned at him, her smile turning his stomach into knots the more he saw it. Gone were the butterflies or the buzzing thrill of arousal he got from it and now being replaced with the truth of what that smile actually meant... She was sinister, had an evil presence around that smile that reached her slightly familiar eyes and lighted her features up entirely.

She was insane, he thought. He had to scream, hope somebody would hear and call for help... There had to be someone around.

As soon as his mouth opened to scream, he'd been gagged, her bra he'd peeled off her being used against his will now, being stuffed into his mouth and secured tight with duct tape covering his lips.

Now as he sat there restrained and gagged, his eyes nearly popped out when the woman before him proceeded to move away from his weakened body, coming to a halt in front of him. "Let's show you just who I am before I bid you a goodnight and hopefully an eternal life of burning in hell for the sins you've committed,"

She started to run her hands over her hair, tilting her head back and giving it little shake as she reached on either side and tugged her hair away from her face, the strands actually peeling off her effortlessly, the strands falling in a heap around her feet.

Gone were the flowing one curls he'd thought resembled the finest gold, in their wake, inky black waves falling effortless across her slim shoulders as she straightened herself out and flashed him a grin and a little wave.

Marcus choked against the lingerie in his mouth, sputtering a cough as recognition dawned on him...

"You're all such idiots, never looking past women to see who they truly are, if we're actually who we say we are... Just focusing on simple things like our breasts and our asses as if those were the only traits worth remembering." She scoffed uninterestedly, actually rolling her eyes at the dumbfounded look on Marcus's face.

Waving her knife around her as of proving her point, She shrugged as she spoke, "no, my name isn't Tanya. Ick, that's so ordinary, so boring..." She scoffed, her nose lifting in distaste, "you're probably wondering how I've managed to stay hidden in plain sight. I mean now that you see me, it must be obvious who I've been this entire time, right?"

Controlled by his fear, Marcus nodded once, fighting the tears filling his eyes. He would not cry, never in front of a woman, never.

"The same happens in every city. It's not your fault, really. I'm good at these things, hiding that is. It's all about changing your appearance, your dressing, your voice... Simple things that no one ever cares to notice," she said, pointing her knife in his direction with her eyes narrowed, "until it's too late."

"But I'm rambling, speaking nonsense and all, so I'll be brief about why I'm here," she said casually, straightening her posture and walking towards him gracefully. She bent at the waist, collecting his discarded shirt and placing it over her body, concealing her body from his eyes. He had seen enough, touched enough and it was time for him to suffer...

"It sickens me, you sicken me every time you make your wife hurt with your indifference, your misplaced anger and with your lies." She hissed down at him once she'd fully fastened the last button of his shirt then settled herself over his lap. Marcus attempted to buck her off, pushing his hips upwards and kicking his legs out but to no avail, she was only enjoying his struggle and laughing at his attempts.

This time he didn't submit when he felt the blunt end of the knife graze his chest. He fought as best as he could, ignoring the cutting of the handcuffs biting into his skin with each attempt at freeing himself, he kicked out his legs violently and he bucked his hips, anything to get this lunatic off him so he could save himself somehow...

"Did you ever think of the pain Denise suffered every time you laid a hand on her?" She snarled at him, using her other hand to backhand him yet again, gaining pleasure when he'd groan in pain and his head would roll to the side. She tugged at his hair, yanking by the roots and tilting his head upwards, "did you stop to think that every tear your wife shed was only fuel for my revenge? Do any of you ever think of the pain and suffering your women go through each time you act this way?"

Marcus muffled something sounding like a groan and a whimper, surrendering to the tears clouding his eyes, letting them trail down his cheeks freely as he barely shook his head.

"You don't, none of you do." She said softly, touching the blade across the center of his chest as her eyes met his, "all these lovely women devoting their lives to you, doing their best to make you happy and none of you appreciate it, none of you do."

Her hand cupped his cheek and her finger collected the tear that had fallen just over the tape lining his mouth, "your tears do nothing for me the same way your wife's did nothing for you." She said in a hushed tone, speaking to him tenderly despite the menacing chill the metal against his skin was providing, "now you realize that you love her, right?"

Marcus nodded.

She closed the distance between them, her hair curtaining their faces as their noses barely touched and her breath fanned his cheek, "too late," She murmured, "once a cheater... Always a cheater,"

The blade lifting them pressing abruptly into his skin, sent a sharp pain ripping through his chest as I shrill scream bubbled past his lips and sounded muffled through the tape.

It wasn't enough for her, their pain was never enough. She pressed the knife deeper into the center of his chest, twisting the blade at an angle and pressing down until the hilt was the only thing visible apart from the red streaming out of his chest and against her body in warm spurts. Marcus groaned, pain blinding him as she retracted the knife slowly, each inch slicing through his lungs.

She kept silent, repeating the motions of stabbing over and over again, this time making sure to penetrate his heart, destroy that black void he called a soul and cease his breaths so that he may never harm another woman in his miserable life. His blood coated her gloved hands, coated her thighs as it spread down his stomach and soaked the sheets in crimson stains.

She'd never grow tired of the rush of euphoria she received each time she rid the earth and another good woman from the shackles of the filth of a man that tied her.

As her thoughts were brought back to the present she shook her head and adjusted the rim of her trench coat, smiling to herself when she crossed the street and heard the tell tale signs of an ambulance rushing down the streets.

"Poor things must be so tired," she hummed to herself as she thought of the messes she'd made for them back at the hotel that they'd have to clean up.

They'd search for her as always, looking for clues to who was responsible for another heinous crime against the city's elite, never realizing that the culprit was right under their noses, hidden amongst them as a wife, a socialite, a lowly maid maybe... Always there, always watching.

Just who was she? They probably asked, knowing the killer was a woman scorned.

Who was the acclaimed Beautiful Killer that signed off her victims with a note and a single stemmed rose?

That would be something nobody would ever know.