Felicia Vox, the Asian assassin, prowls her room, her costume a second skin. She runs her hands over her small tits, her nipples pressing against the leather. Her hand slips between her legs, finding her wet slit. She masturbates furiously, her hips bucking as she imagines the thrill of the hunt, the rush of victory. Her cries fill the room, her body shuddering as she reaches her climax, her hidden blade glistening with her juices.