A Beauty With Multiple Masks Novels & Stories

"Doctor, have you finished the examination? I can't hold on any longer," I say as I lie on the examination table in the college clinic. A screen completely blocks my view. The examination instrument pokes a few inches deeper into me. I try my best to suppress it, but a whimper escapes me. "No!" The doctor remains silent and merely adjusts the machine so that my legs are lifted higher.

Studying abroad can be incredibly lonely at times. That night, I was in my room, indulging in a little treat for myself, when my best friend suddenly burst through the door. "Doing it yourself is no fun. Come on. There's a super cool cabaret show going on. Let's go see it together!" On stage, my friend was reclining in a chair behind the curtain, with two strong-looking men on top of her. "Come on. Join us for a group dance..."

"Mr. Woods, what's that thing pressing against me?" I was teaching a freshman girl how to drive at a driving school. I never expected that this innocent-looking but boldly dressed underclassman would actually ask to sit on my lap and have me teach her hands-on. On the way, I held back my urge and forced myself to focus on teaching as I deliberately ignored her brushing against me. But then she released the clutch too quickly, and the car suddenly stalled and shook violently. She fell heavily between my legs, and I could feel myself pressing against her core. She was only wearing a short skirt, with thin underwear underneath.

***Explicit 18+*** "I've missed the warmth of your pussy, the feel of it. God Ginevra, you're so fucking perfect." I rasped and tightened my grip on her. I began rocking her against me ever so gently with parted lips. Her tight pussy very often gripping unto my dick, taking me hostage with each rock against me and a loud scream finally escaped from the back of my throat. *** The game of chess is one love cannot salvage. When the king and the queen come out to play, they have no other goal set before them if not going at each other's throat for the kill until a winner emerges. This is the game of the mafia, the game that'd never allow Love exist between two rivals. They want to love and care for each other but don't know how- all they've known all their lives is loyalty to their famiglia and name. What would happen when the only option becomes death?

My boyfriend insists on hiking up a snow-covered mountain to see a waterfall. That very day, I fall from the peak. When I regain consciousness, I've lost my memories and broken a leg. Even my boyfriend has become my brother-in-law. Everyone turns their backs on me, but my psychologist, Quinton Scott, comforts and guides me. One day, he gets on one knee before me with a bouquet and a diamond ring in hand. He proposes as the medical personnel watch, and I weep with joy. Half a year after our marriage, I hear his friend say, "Looks like your hypnosis has gone well for the past year, Quinton. Speaking of which, you've already helped Winnie get what she wants. Why bother marrying Jennifer?" "Did you think I wanted to? I was afraid she'd suddenly regain her memories and try to hurt Winnie. It's easier for me to watch her like this." "Is it worth going to such lengths for Winnie? You cleaned up so many of her messes, and you're now using Jennifer for that…" "I'll do anything as long as Winnie is happy." Quinton stubs out his cigarette. After a long silence, he says, "Besides, I'm just borrowing Jennifer's womb. I'm putting trash to good use!"

With the SATs coming up, I hired a top student from a poor family to tutor me. However, he insisted on bringing his childhood friend along to every session. I turned him down politely, and he did not push it any further. Still, on the day his childhood friend left my house, she was hit by a car. After that, she dropped out of school and got married. Life went on. He kept tutoring me. We both got into the same university, grew close, fell in love, got married, and had a child. Everything seemed perfect. Until one night, during a business dinner, he heard that his childhood friend was being abused by her husband. That was when everything fell apart. He locked me inside our home while I was heavily pregnant, then tortured me to death. "If you hadn't gotten her hurt back then, why would she have rushed into marriage and ended up being abused? "This is what you owe her!" When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day he brought her to my house for tutoring. This time, I would not spend a single cent on that psycho.

My dad collapsed from a sudden heart attack and died. The shock hit my mom like a freight train, and she blacked out cold. By the time I raced home from college, his body had already been reduced to ashes in the crematorium. Grief barely had a chance to sink in before the debt collectors pounded on our door. That was when the ugly truth emerged. My dad had secretly racked up billions in loans, saddling my mom and me. A year later, the relentless harassment from those goons drove my mom to despair. She ended her life, and I was forced to drop out of school, scavenging dumpsters just to scrape by. But fate had a cruel twist in store. I spotted my "dead" dad, alive and thriving, hosting an extravagant birthday bash for his secret son. I stormed in, desperate for answers, only to be hurled out by security. My head cracked against the pavement, and everything went black. When my eyes fluttered open again, I was inexplicably back on that fateful day of my dad's heart attack.

As the male lead, Henry Johnston, forces himself on me, a row of comments suddenly appears before my eyes. "Henry is about to misunderstand and think Aria drugged him! The angst is about to begin!" "I'm thrilled just thinking about Henry regretting dearly after Aria dies!" "Keep up the act, Henry. After she dies, you'll be hugging her corpse and crying every day." That is when I realize that I am the tragic female lead in a story where I am destined to be tormented until I die. The readers treat my death as a highlight to push the plot forward. They are counting down to my death. As I look at Henry, who is panting on top of me, anger courses through me. I grab a table lamp and smash it into him, killing him on the spot. Who says that the one who dies in a toxic romance story must always be the female lead?

After being sent back in time to relive my life, I stopped standing up for the popular girl who got caught stealing. When she returned to college for classes, I dropped out. When she came to my house looking for me, I moved. I did everything I could to cut off all contact with her. Before I died in my last life, I knew she married me only for my family’s money, yet I still handed her my heart like a fool. The jewelry I gave her was “tacky.” Trying to get close to her was “annoying.” I held on to a cold, empty marriage, thinking that as long as I waited, she would eventually turn back to me. However, for more than twenty years, all I got was her indifference. I didn’t even dare touch the doorknob to her room. Then came the fire, and I risked my life to push her out the window to safety. Right before I died, I saw my wife, completely unharmed, run straight into the arms of our college valedictorian. Crying, she said she was finally free from the marriage that had made her miserable for decades. If life could start over, she said, she hoped to walk hand in hand with the person she truly loved. In that moment, my heart went dead. I let the fire swallow whatever remained of my life. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the bar where the popular girl was working part-time and stealing money from a customer. This time, I chose to call the police.

The day we submitted our college applications, the school beauty, Hayley Law, suggested we all go rafting to unwind. Every single person in class raised their hand in agreement. In my previous life, as the class monitor, I did everything I could to stop them. Wild rafting was far too dangerous. Without any safety measures in place, accidents could easily happen. In the end, everyone made it back safely and got into the colleges they wanted. But before the semester even started, news came that Hayley had gone rafting alone, slipped into the water, and drowned. When Terry Vargas, my boyfriend and the most popular guy in school, heard what happened, he took the lead in organizing a memorial at sea. Then, when the waves were at their worst, he shoved me into the ocean. Later, when the police questioned them, they all told the same story as if they had planned it. "Katrina insisted on a sea burial for Hayley. During the storm, she got swept away by the waves and disappeared." They even produced fake evidence to clear Terry's name. My parents were shattered. They went to Terry again and again, desperate for the truth, but he had them set up and locked away in a mental institution, where they were tormented to death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Hayley first suggested the rafting trip. I stood there quietly, watching my classmates pile into the bus she had rented, heading off to that same reckless trip. This time, I would just look out for myself.