Beauty With Multiple Mask Novels & Stories

In a nutshell, the house was a work of art! I repositioned the mask on my face. It was a gold Venetian mask with bead embellishments and golden rhinestones on its side, held together by a golden ribbon and a few feathers. I fell in love with this mask the moment I saw it in a shop and knew it would look great with my dress.

Maria cursed, “that bastard.” She felt her blood boiled under her skin, the only thing she tasted on her tongue was revenge. She never cared whether it was bloodlust or just a rush of Adrenaline but she knew she would kill him, and she would enjoy every bit of it. She saw the way he, Andre, looked at her, he saw his face when she smiled for the first time. Yes, she knew she was beautiful, the kind of beauty that every man wanted but no, he looked at her differently. He looked at her, he didn't see a sexy lady he would lay with like most men, he saw an innocent sheep losing its way slowly.

“I'll take responsibility, okay? Let me prepare the medicine, but I need ingredients.” “Which ingredients do you need?” “Fresh turmeric, honey, milk, vitamin C serum, and…” “Aloe vera?” Amanda completed her words. “We have all the natural ingredients here. Mrs. Harrison, they're all in the kitchen.” Heidi wasn't even surprised. She had a feeling this was simply a setup. Amanda led her to the kitchen and she spent thirty minutes, preparing the mask. “Lucas Harrison, you'll use this for five days,” she instructed the man, who had also joined them in the kitchen.

Mary asked while checking out the mask in her hand. It was red in colour and is going to hide both of her eyes and the right side of her face, the other half was bare for everyone to see but they won't be able to recognise her if she wears it. On the other hand, Sarah's mask was really beautiful. It's going to cover her full face with a lot of artistic patterns drawn in the red mask with a golden border, matching her dress perfectly.

He was the unexpected person who helped me. I also wore some black boots and strapped them to my feet. After getting dressed I took red lipstick and applied it to my lips. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw that I was presentable. I was amazed at my reflection. I don't think that I'm this beautiful and I inherited this beauty from my mother. I could also see the scratches and scars on my face but these wounds have already healed but the wound in my heart doesn't. I'm still having a hard time but I hope that one day I wake up and this pain I feel will go away. On that day, I will be happy in life even if I am alone. I just smiled and look at myself while brushing my hair. I'm a brave wo

"How do women do this to themselves every time? Ya'll aren't human," "Beauty is pain, sweetheart," was all she said, grabbing something else. "I need a time out," I said wiggling myself from underneath her. "You're making a mess, baby, sit still," Jackson warned me, grabbing my foot. "Relax, it's a face mask," she said holding up the said mask. "It'll help soothe the burn," I let myself relax. "You do this every month?" I asked her. "Yeah," "You're not human," I said sighing when she placed the lemon-scented mask on my face, smoothing it evenly. "There's something wrong with ya'll,"

She instructs me, editing our pictures. I do as she says, I open a Beastly Beauty T*****r account and add a photo of me in lingerie, kneeling on her bed with a lollipop in my mouth. A mask covers my face, I look unrecognisable, I don’t think anyone would ever know it’s me.

she whispered. Turning on the faucet, she splashed cold water over her face, then dabbed it dry with a tissue. Digging into her purse, she pulled out her makeup kit. She reapply powder, blush, lipstick. “You cannot let him see your fear,” she told her reflection. “You’ll play this cool. The ball’s in your court now.” But her stomach twisted when she remembered the look on his face earlier, disgust, as if she were something filthy. Clenching her fists, she braced herself and left the restroom.

It is more beautiful than anything I have ever dared to imagine in my most secret dreams. Suddenly, a crystalline chime sounds nearby, like the gentle ringing of glass, and before me, a mask appears, hovering as if held by invisible hands, settling gently into my palms. The mask is pale and delicate, kissed by moonlight, its surface etched with swirling patterns that mimic the frost creeping across a windowpane on a cold winter’s night. I lift it and press it to my face, feeling it mold perfectly to my features as if it was made just for me.

I snap back, just as the door swings fully open. The man in front steps inside, holding a cattle prod, its metal tip gleaming ominously. He moves just enough to allow another man to enter, who silently sets a jug of water down on the rickety table before turning to leave. “Wait!” I shout, my voice sharp and urgent. The men pause, glancing back. “We will negotiate. What do you want?” I ask, trying to keep my tone calm despite the tension in the air. The man at the front turns his masked face toward me. His expression is hidden, but his posture radiates control. “We want nothing,” he says, his voice distorted, processed through some kind of modulator. It’s deliberate—a calculated move to ensur