Voluptuous Women Novels & Stories

“Hee-hee-hee-hee. They’re such beauties! I heard that the Medusa Dames are skilled in the Aphroditeux technique…” Their eyes lit up greedily and they did not bother to conceal their perverted intentions for the female members. Indeed, all the women of the Medusa Dames were exquisite. They were all lovely ladies and their feminine qualities were enhanced by their Aphroditeux technique, which made them appear even more attractive to men. One could imagine how they would be treated when they were captured by such savage men.

Out of the conflagration, women emerged, women he'd used for feeding throughout the centuries, long dead to the world now. They began to crowd around him, arms reaching, mouths open wide as they bent toward him, showing their wares through tight, clinging dresses. They smiled and beckoned, eyes wide, blood running down the sides of their necks-tempting-tempting. Hunger burned. Raged. Grew into a monster. As he watched, they called to him seductively, moaning and writhing as if in sexual ecstasy, their hands touching themselves suggestively.

And we weren't talking about any random woman. This was Violetta. She didn't know it, but the women in the Silvermoon pack envied her. They taught their daughters to be like her. There wasn't a part of a good body she was missing; with skin so slender and soft, her body could set the standard for good mattresses. Her skin could be basically milked at this point. That was how perfect she was. A thousand men wouldn't be able to resist a willing Violetta the way I did yesterday. And just as I was going down the stairs, I met the same woman I'd just been thinking of.

However, the view before me knocks me breathless. "Oh, fuck, your balls are jingling on my face." Growls a lanky blonde dude. Followed by a petite lady. "You look so fucking hot, Zack." And there's Valois—dark blonde hair, green eyes, sharp jawline, low moustache, and warm ivory skin—on the couch, looking down on the guy, Zack, and the lady, jerking off with creams on his shaft. Valois' breathing is hitched as he cums on both of their faces. They cry out to suck him dry, licking every possible spot. Lube, buttplug, and dildo lies around them like it's a freak show.

The venue had a glass-walled penthouse suite overlooking the skyline, complete with a large circular bed platform in the center, multiple couches, a fully stocked bar, and a raised stage area with spotlights. “I want everyone to see what a pathetic, broken cuck you are tonight.” She told Mark while getting ready, she wore a tiny red micro-dress that barely covered her ass cheeks. Her massive, milk-heavy DD breasts strained the thin fabric, dark nipples clearly visible. Her pussy was freshly waxed, already glistening, a thick Queen of Spades tattoo now adorned her lower back, just above her juicy ass, and another small one on her inner left thigh.

I'd seen her type a thousand times—women who thought the world revolved around their appearance, who wielded beauty like a weapon because they had nothing else to offer. Catarina Vitale was exactly that kind of woman. I'd watched her at charity galas, always perfectly dressed, always smiling that practiced smile, always surrounded by admirers who hung on her every vapid word. She was beautiful, I'd give her that. The kind of beautiful that made men stupid. But I wasn't most men. I didn't have time for games or flirtation or whatever the hell she thought this meeting was going to be. We'd discuss the terms, agree on the basics, and get this over with. Simple.

The wind passed by singing around her, blowing her aju-brown hair to the sides. Her face was perfect, with sardines and delicate features. She wore a lot of makeup, something different from women in my country, but she was still beautiful. It was not plasticized or modeled like most young and rich girls. She had a bulky body, with wide hips and a thin waist, as well as breasts that made volume against the neckline of her short and thin dress. Giovanna reminded me of the imperial ladies of ancient times; those who wore corsets and knew they would have any man at their feet, precisely because they were out of standards and still within popular tastes. She was perfect.

And lounging on the couches were the women of the House. There were six of them, all in various states of undress, their laughter lazy and rich, their bodies glowing as if they had spent the night soaking in something more potent than wine. Their beauty was startling in its variety—dusky skin, pale curves, copper hair, raven hair, soft bodies and lean ones, every shape a different flavor of desire. They looked up when Cassandra led me in. “Our new mistress,” Cassandra announced simply. Mistress. The word hit me like a stone dropped into water. I nearly tripped.

A few feet away, three women stood in a tight, perfumed circle, their voices sharp and dripping with malice. "Can you believe Salvatore brought her here?" one hissed, her eyes darting toward me before snapping away. "Hard to miss her," another laughed, a brittle, cruel sound. "Though I suppose when you’re a gold-digger, you don’t mind being the main attraction. She obviously had to spread her legs wide to land a man like Vittorio." "She’s nothing but a common whore in a designer dress," the third added, adjusting her diamond necklace. "I give it a month before he tires of the trophy."

Initially, the items on auction were all old and mundane, but soon the focus shifted to three women. They appeared on stage naked, their faces covered by sacks. They couldn't stand up, giving the impression that they were under the influence of drugs. To the right stood a woman with curly brown hair, a healthy chest, and light brown skin. In the center is a woman with straight black hair, fair skin, a smaller chest, and a slender body. The final woman has short hair, a generous chest, and exudes undeniable allure, possessing an allure that seemed to have it all.