Bloody Lips Novels & Stories

I endured the slight pain from my abdomen and got up from the floor with the support of bed placing one palm on my lower belly. I went into the bathroom washed my face with cold water and looked at myself in the mirror. What I saw was my lips were swollen like purple and blue. “Crazy bastard. What has he done to my lips? I huffed looking at my lips.“ It wasn’t this much swollen. “

Plump, pink lips. Beauty beyond compare. My breath is taken away, once more.

I scream at the top of my lungs. He finally gets to where I am. "Why are you crying again?" he asks, wiping my tears. I hadn't even notice I was crying again. "Do you like the taste of my blood in your mouth?" he asks running his thumb across my lips. Before I can answer he pulls me closer, removing his thumb and replacing it with his lips. The kiss is hot and messy and quite literally bloody. I come to my senses and push him away. "I was just trying to clean you up a bit," he says wiping the blood that is now on his lips.

She couldn’t move out of her grasp as the pain of a needle forced into her lips with the liquid burning in her lips continued to fill her. The pain was acute and sharp. Every pump of the liquid sending ripples through her lips was blossoming them further. They no longer maintained the size of an average lip enhancement. The giant pillows of the mouth grew and grew until finally it burst open, spurting out liquid and blood from a large gash. Her lips had burst from the over filling of the liquid and screaming she pulled her head away from Vevina’s hold who finally let her go.

Give me just another half an hour; then she shall be screaming it over and over again. I take but a moment to admire her. She has small and thin lips; she is compact and ever so tight. There is nothing but a tiny strip that leads you to her most desirable part. Her lips are a lovely rose pink, and god, how surprisingly wet she is. Her sweet softness and the deep intensity of her wetness sends an undeniable ache to my throbbing erection that is dripping on the inside of my thigh.

she snapped, “I need to get back the shop before the boss has my head. Is this about the Bloody Barbies again?” Bloody Barbie was the nickname Maria gave to the murders ever since she’d gotten involved as a suspect. It was an apt name. Each crime scene that had been investigated was painted red with each victim’s blood, and in each one there would be a bloody doll left behind (though, not exactly a Barbie), no less than three feet away from the body.

Here you are" Riley voice sounded behind them "You are here" Lisa said as she nodded Lisa suddry blinked and looked at her "Huh? Why is your lips swollen" Lisa asked as she brought her face closer to take a better view of Riley Riley's face couldn't help but redden in embarrassment "You what are you saying, it must be my lipstick" Riley said as she took a step away from Lisa "Really lipstick? But it is swollen, or are you allergic to the lipstick" Lisa asked confused and worried as she stretched out her havd to touch her lips

Blush on her cheeks, a rosy pink to mimic the flush he'd put there soon enough. Finally, the lips. She outlined them with a red pencil, precise strokes defining the full pout, then filled in with the pepper red lipstick—a bold, fiery shade that screamed 'fuck me.' She pressed her lips together, blotting with tissue, then layered another coat for shine. The color popped against her skin, making her mouth look swollen and ready for his cock. She admired the result: eyes smoldering, lips begging to be ruined. He'll want to smear this lipstick all over his shaft.

His lips, which were normally so pink, and his eyes, which changed color to golden in the light but were originally glistening grey, were now bloodshot and swollen. His pale, clear skin had bumps and pink bruises. His lips were cut open, and blood trickled from them. He had a couple of broken ribs and fractures. He could have easily fought back, but he did not.

My lips were burning. I stood in front of the bathroom mirror with both hands gripping the edge of the porcelain sink, knuckles white from the pressure. The washcloth I'd been using lay crumpled in the basin, stained a sickly pink where my lipstick had mixed with the blood from where I'd scrubbed my mouth raw. I'd been at it for ten minutes. Scalding water that left my skin red and tender. Soap that smelled like lavender but felt like acid against the split skin of my lips.