Shameless Aesthetics Novels & Stories

Impatiently, he kicked the hospital bed and snapped, "Stop pretending. It's just a little anesthetic. Do you need to sleep for so long? Get up. I made you get cosmetic surgery for your own good. Don't act like it's such a huge grievance." Of course, I couldn't answer him. I was dead. Livid, James lifted the sheet and kicked me off the bed and to the ground. "Stop playing dead! Have you learned your lesson or not?" The sheet covering me fell to the ground as well, revealing my ashen face. It wasn't a complexion that a living human could have. I hadn't had the chance to heal after the cosmetic surgery, so my face was still swollen and ruddy. James frowned when he saw me. "You're still so ugly.

I could easily see her swapping out her white smock for a leather corset and riding crop. “Get it off, then,” I say grumpily. With one quick jerk, the aesthetician rips off the strip, leaving another stripe of smooth pink skin. I shriek and let out a string of expletives, some English and some Italian. The aesthetician doesn’t even flinch. I’m sure she’s heard it all. “Alright, that’s enough!” I say. “You can’t leave it like that,” she says, wrinkling her nose. Cazzo! I’ve got about two-thirds of my pussy waxed, with little patches of hair in odd places. It does look fucking awful. I don’t care for Calester’s sake, but I don’t want to have to look at that for weeks until it grows out again.

“No, Brielle. You didn’t upset me. I upset me. I lost control.” The shame in his face was real. Tangible. But so was the fear that maybe this wasn’t a one-time thing. That maybe her forgiveness wasn’t healing—it was submission. The rest of the day, he worshipped her with his body—mouth, hands, words—burying apologies between her thighs, inside her. As if every orgasm could erase the sting. As if if he touched her gently enough, she'd forget the sound of his voice when it was cruel. He murmured over and over:

Kevin replied, "No way! You're the prettiest woman in Dainsclef Village." He tried to lift the blanket to look at me, yet I gripped it tightly. "Please—don't look at me!" Kevin had no choice but to wrap me and the blanket together in his arms. Even when I was living with the poor Larsons, I was well taken care of, with smooth, soft skin. But how could this emaciated woman with hollow eyes staring back at me now possibly be me? "Who said you're ugly? My lovely Cindy is the prettiest woman in the world!"