Shameless Aesthetics Novels & Stories

Such mentally sick people. Kristen was about talking when Daniel entered the training ground, and everyone immediately stopped what they were doing and greeted him. Most of the female mobsters drooled at the sight of him. Wearing a sleeveless shirt and black leather pants, he was smoking hot. His exposed biceps weren't helping matters, as they added to his sexily fit body, making the females have wild thoughts. Kristen rolled her eyes. Daniel saw it but choose to ignore her. He had better things to do than calling the brat to order.

“The North is barren. How exactly are you going to draw the interests of people?” “Aesthetics.” “And how exactly is that going to work?” “The same way every capital city works. If you make something beautiful, people are not going to worry about if it is fundamentally functional.” “Is that why you invited Lady Borisque from Ducroft even though people would know you’re still alive?”

According to G****e, a walk of shame is, "an instance of walking back home on the day after an unplanned casual sexual encounter, typically dressed in the same clothes as the previous evening." That's interesting considering I am wearing the same clothes and yet, nobody has ravaged the hell out of my pussy. So why in the hell does this feel like a walk of shame, me, out here on a dark, but warm New York night? Surely, it's not because I had sex. No. I definitely did not do that.

Not if I wanted to enjoy my mate. The glass bottles reflect myself back at me in twisted and strange shapes. A thousand sets of hazel eyes, all asking me how I landed them here. Why. A scream builds in my throat. They don’t undergo an hour of careful glamors each morning before leaving their rooms—glamors that never truly stop itching, that limit my movement so I never step outside of them. They don’t have to tailor every coat to enhance characteristics they never truly had. They don’t bind their breasts, painstakingly losing air because glamors don’t remove physical mass.

The last pile of files suddenly fell down as I bumped into someone. "Sorry!" I exclaimed as I looked at him. He nodded abruptly and my instinct told me something was wrong. His posture and demeanor was off balance. He had an oversized glass and his shirt was roughly buttoned. His shoe was worn in the opposite direction. I noticed all these in a split second as he pushed past me after my apology.

An ideal world where no competition is allowed, only a crowd, which despite being exhausted, is relentless when it comes to one day reaching the standards of beauty that belong to them. That is why, tonight, I choose to challenge everything he believes in by clinging to the theory that yes, aesthetic beauty is certainly attractive, but over time, one will need something more to keep the admiration burning like a flame. This may be intelligence, charismas, or a lost soul for those who love to mend one. The pity being that, most of the time, this becomes a rip-off. For when plunging into the depths of another, one may be startled to discover that our pure desire does not match at all with our

I carefully run my fingers through it, proud of how silky it had become. "Stop acting like you're so pretty." He grumbled and my face overflowed with embarrassment. I felt like some sort of effort I made was out to waste. Not to lie, I wasn't only dressing for myself, I wanted Bruce to also at least appreciate with his eyes but I guess he thought other wise. But none the less, I opened my clutch and took out my mini mirror and shiny lip gloss. I opened the mirror and started applying the gloss and I caught Bruce stealing glances at me.

, I ask Sherlin taking in the design of the millionth dress I have owned with the same concept. “It helps to show the beauty. A slim waist and good full breasts represent the beauty of a woman. It also helps to keep a man satisfied.”, she says explaining atrocious facts right in my face. I laugh looking at her. How naive is she to not understand it isn’t about beauty, it’s all about lust? I shake my head as she finishes adorning me with all the jewels, lathering the scented concoction on my body. The doors to my chamber slide open, my feet trudging to the edge of the door when I see Max stationed in his position. My back rests as a view to his eyes, they burning along the small of my neck, a

He asked as he sat right in front of me with his notebook. “I can call my stylists and you guys can talk about it.” “Yes, please and so by the way, I’ll just review the theme that Max and I came up with yesterday was white and peach. Because for him you are elegant and not fierce-” I leaned my head to the left waiting for him to add something. “No- sorry, I am not gonna add anything.” He replied looking back into his notebook and started scribbling. But I felt uncomfortable with him not being honest so I asked Vanique and our mom to give us privacy.

Wear what makes you feel exposed. I showered twice. Shaved everything. Painted my nails black for the first time ever. Then i chose a sheer black bodysuit that left nothing to imagination, no bra, no panties, just the thin mesh clinging like a second skin. Over it, i wore the long coat again. Red lipstick stained my lips. No mascara this time because I knew I’d cry. The warehouse looked the same. The door, the keypad, the woman in the harness. But when I said “Level 3,” her eyes changed. Not surprise. Respect, maybe. Or caution.