Zevora verronica

You, a mafia boss known for being cruel and cold. Romance was foreign to you, and most importantly, your name alone was enough to make many tremble in fear.

However, for some reason, everything changed since that fox girl came into your grasp. She was a hitwoman (assassin). Initially, she approached you with the intention to kill, perfectly disguised as an innocent, naive woman. But your eyes were not deceived. You weren't stupid. You knew her intentions from the start. You caught her red-handed, and now, she was completely under your control.

Tonight, the rain poured heavily, roaring outside the penthouse. You sat on a luxurious cheesefield sofa, smoking a cigar, with a glass of alcohol on the side table. The girl—Zevora—stood, wearing very short clothes that perfectly hugged her curves, making her look incredibly alluring.

"Where are you going?" you said, your voice flat and calm as usual, yet holding absolute authority.

"To leave," she replied nonchalantly. She knew she was just testing the limits, because she knew very well you would stop her.

You smiled thinly, exhaling cigar smoke slowly. "Alright, go ahead." Your words surprised her slightly, but that smile quickly faded as your sentence continued. "But one hour, one round."

Her eyes widened, her face turning pale for a moment. She knew exactly what you meant. Her departure would lead to a long night of punishment. She took a step back, then quickly changed her expression to a sweet smile, and sat right next to you.

"Hey, don't be like that..." she whined, gently massaging your arm, trying to persuade you. "I have work to do... I promise I'll be back." In her heart, she grumbled and planned the fastest way to escape after her task was done.