Voodoo Priestess Makeup Novels & Stories

It was time for Velvet Mistress I picked out one of my favorite bodysuits. It hugged my curves just right. Then I sat in front of my mirror and reached for the wig I always used. Long black curls. I adjusted the lace so it blended into my hairline. Next, the contacts. Bright gray. They always gave my eyes that otherworldly look that people loved. Finally, I reached for the mask. Soft leather, black, with gold edges. It covered half my face but showed just enough. Mysterious. Powerful. Untouchable.

After she had dried herself, she lightly moisturised around her pussy with a neutral, unscented cream, and laid out a black four strap suspender belt, and a pair of black seamed stockings, on her bed. Then she sat in front her dressing table and applied her make up. She put on a little more mascara and eyeshadow than usual; she wanted to look her vampish best for her daughter.

David’s voice echoed in my head: dull in bed… worst sounds he’d ever heard… I picked it up. Vivian squealed, already grabbing her makeup bag. “That’s my girl. Now let’s make you look like sin.” I followed her to the room and let her work—smoky eyes, blood-red lips, a black lace bodysuit that hugged every curve I’d spent years hating because he said they weren’t enough. She pinned my hair up, left a few tendrils loose, and tied the mask so it covered just enough to feel dangerous.

She thought it would be different from the underworld anyway. The witch priestess, on the other hand, unleashed her most powerful spell—the venom spell. A magical cobra came out of her mouth and settled just above her head. The witch priestess’ eyes became blacker and her hair stood out—more than having a bad hair day. The magical cobra looked maddeningly dangerous and murderous. Its eyes were creepily red just by the look of them. Its fork-like tongue was menacingly stuck in and out. It spat out venoms around the witch priestess endlessly, in all directions. It moved so quick that it seemed that it was merely bluffing its strikes everywhere. But in reality, it left its venoms everywhere it

She fastens it around my neck and pats my shoulders. "See? Now you are ready. If you fidget any more, I will tape your hands to your sides." I try not to roll my eyes, but when I look in the mirror, I barely recognize myself. My hair, usually straight and plain, now falls in loose waves down my back, artfully arranged to frame the mask. The makeup Lorena applied makes my green eyes seem deeper and more mysterious. The emerald mask, adorned with tiny crystals and delicate filigree, transforms my ordinary features into something almost regal.

The outfits look pretty good and decent, but the real head looker was my makeup. Despite my normal attire, my makeup makes you want to question your taste. My eyelid was covered in pink and glittery eyes shadow and paired with peacock eyelashes and very very dark eyeliner. My lips were also purple with lots and lots of glitter, and my blush was so red that it makes me look like one of those Asian dolls. As Felisha, I also wore my pink wig.

I had to agree with her; we were extremely lucky. We left the room, following behind Liz who sat us down in chairs. She started with makeup first. She placed powder on our faces to make us look paler; she was trying to make us look more like vampires so we would blend in. She put some red lipstick on my lips and some eyeshadow. She trimmed our hair to make it look perfectly even and flawless; all the vampires had perfect hair. She gave us normal vampire street clothing too. Once she was finished, I hardly recognized myself.

It was sleek, dark, and utterly unforgiving. I moved to the vanity. My makeup wouldn't be "pretty." It would be a warning. I spent another three hours on my face, using a palette of deep, bruised violets, charcoal, and metallic gold. I sculpted my cheekbones with a razor-thin precision, creating hollows that looked structural, permanent. I drew my eyeliner in a sharp, extended wing that felt like a blade, turning my emerald eyes into piercing, predatory slits. I finished with a dark, plum-toned lip that looked like it had been stained by something far more permanent than lipstick. I looked in the mirror. I didn't see the girl who had been stalked in the elevator. I didn't see the girl who ha

“Right this way, ma’am. Champagne? Caviar? Back massage while you wait?” “A glass of your driest champagne,” I replied. “And tell Ricardo I’m ready for my villain arc glow-up.” By the end of my four-hour transformation? Hair? Glossy, bouncing like I had a hair commercial contract. Nails? Glinting crimson daggers. Skin? So luminous it could trigger a skincare lawsuit. Mood? Peak villainess on a vacation from hell. The best part? I only spent two dimes. Yes, you heard that right. One-seven. Cents.

The black velvet I sliced into thin straps, crossing them over my chest, around my throat, between my legs, barely covering my cunt, just two narrow strips that framed it like an invitation to sin. I looked like a gladiator whore sculpted from nightmares and sex. I took the leftover velvet and braided it into my hair, wet and wild from the shower, until it hung in thick, savage ropes down my back. Then I used the blood from a split knuckle to paint war-stripes across my cheekbones, down my throat, and between my breasts. I didn’t walk to the mirror, I prowled to it and when I saw myself, naked skin, silk, velvet, blood, eyes glowing molten gold with heat and murder, I smiled the kind of smil