A KISS SO DEADLY 1 (VANAGLORIA) by Trixeadara

Feature Writer: trixieadara

Feature Title: A KISS SO DEADLY 1 (VANAGLORIA)

Published: 23.03.2024

Story Codes: Demon, Erotic Horror

Synopsis: Knox’s wife goes missing after hotwifing for Knox’s arousal.

A Kiss So Deadly 1 (Vanagloria)

Knox

I sighed and leaned back in bed as I watched my wife’s lover delicately spread her legs. Lex looks like a goddess on a clean white couch in some stranger’s apartment. I knew how the script went before the cameras turned on. Lex would talk about how she never does this. She would pretend to be coy while the other woman ran her hands over Lex’s exposed shoulder, slowly inching her fingers towards Lex’s chest. Lex would —

“Uhn,” Lex moans, right on cue.

“Mmm, like that?” the woman says. Her voice is slightly accented, and her features are dark. Iranian? Arab? Her hair was a beautiful streak of black against the white couch. Her curves were impressive compared to Lex’s slight frame. Afghan? Palestinian? Lex would more than likely know without having to ask, but I doubt conversation ever got that far. From Lex it only took a few battered eyes, an offer for a drink, and then she would play the meek but eager submissive to whatever predatory woman was lurking in the bar.

I unbutton my pants, fumbling my phone and dropping it. I’m submerged in the darkness of our apartment as I try to reach for my clit. I’m already wet from the teasing Lex does before she slinks off with another woman. But more than that is the anticipation. For hours, all I know is that Lex is with another woman, letting some stranger dominate her, while I drink at the bar and shoot pool for money from easy marks. But the whole time, I’m thinking about what Lex is doing until I get the video sent to me. Then I rush home and enjoy an orgasm even better than if her tongue was pressed against my clit.

xxxxx

4 hours earlier…

“Elizabeth Mayer, the heiress to the Oscar Mayer empire, has been reported missing this morning after going out to a club last Saturday.” The TV above the bar played the news, but neither Lex nor I were paying it much attention. I was nursing my third Whiskey Sour, and Lex was facing away from the bar, scanning the room for any potential playmates.

“Slow night,” Lex said. Her voice wasn’t the soft and feminine voice she’ll use to lure in her playmate. Lex had a delightfully husky voice that betrayed her slight features from her Korean features. Lex’s hair — a bob going just past her ears — was dyed teal with hints of blue riding through it. I always thought of it as an Aurora Borealis, but Lex just laughed when I said it and called me sentimental. Her style was a blend of pop-punk and classic art student, but that wasn’t what drew me to her years ago. Well, it technically was, but it was the combination of looking like a badass while never losing an inch of her femininity.

“Well on a weeknight like tonight, I can’t imagine –”

“I told you; I have the show this weekend. I can’t go out when –”

“It’s fine. Let’s go to a bar on a fucking Tuesday.”

“Jesus, Miri,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Are you going to beat me with that all night?”

I sighed and spun around on my stool, facing the bar with her. I didn’t want to fight, and when she called me Miri — short for Miranda — that meant she didn’t want to fight either. To be honest, I was thrilled that we’re doing this at all. Lex had been working on her show for weeks, and I would barely see her for the rest of the week.

“Let’s just focus so we can find someone else to beat you.” I raised my drink and clinked it against her beer bottle. She smiled at me, and I let some of the stress of the week fall off of me. My job had been kicking the shit out of me, and though Montoya thought I had intimacy issues, one of the only ways Lex and I ever got off together was after she sent me videos of her with a playmate. She kept trying to invite me to join them — she said I could just watch — but it wasn’t the same.

I don’t know what I expected from a bar on a Tuesday, but we had some slim pickings. The bar was in downtown Chicago, but it didn’t have any of the hype of the area. It looked like gentrification skipped right over the joint, and while it seemed to be going for a “classic Cheers bar feel,” it seemed to only attract people who had actually fucking watched Cheers.

“This marks another in a long chain of missing women,” the TV droned behind us. It was about the liveliest thing in the place. “The Chicago PD have insisted that there is nothing linking the women and that many have even gone missing in different cities across the globe. What must be the most terrifying coincidence in history has wealthy heiresses all over the world hiring private investigators and security in order to protect them, but from what, remains to be seen.”

There was a couple in their early forties sipping on over-iced margaritas. Must be date night. Thank god Lex and I didn’t have kids. On the other side of the bar was a good-looking guy — or what I assumed women found good looking — with the GQ stubble that looked intentional and the heavily product infused hair. He had a nice suit on, so I assumed he worked nearby. We were in the financial district because I was working a case around here.

“The bartender said it usually picks up closer to midnight,” Lex said.

I resisted the urge to check my watch. If we weren’t out of here by one, I wasn’t going to sleep tonight. That meant Montoya was going to give me even more shit about how I was looking increasingly like a zombie.

“That should give me plenty of time to build this buzz,” I said. I downed the rest of the drink and put it on the bar behind us.

“You should slow down,” she said.

“So how was work?” I asked, sidestepping that fight for the four hundredth time.

“Eh,” she said. “Model was straight.”

“Fucking cunt.”

Lex laughed. God, I loved her laugh. Most people wouldn’t understand our relationship, especially the part where I only got off by watching my wife fuck other women. They didn’t understand that I didn’t feel an inch of jealousy or possessiveness when it came to Lex. I was just so happy to be there, so happy to be around her happiness. I was a miserable fuck. Fact. I just wanted to be around her laughter, her pleasure, even if it wasn’t for me.

“But the photo shoot went well,” Lex said. I think I’m on to something, though I have to make sure it isn’t borderline erotic.”

“God forbid.”

“Galleries don’t want to hang up porn.” Lex took a swig from her beer. “I’m hoping to poke exactly at that. What’s art vs what’s porn? If I was a Renaissance white dude, tits could be hanging out and it’s hardcore art.”

“Hardcore art,” I said. “Sounds hot.”

Lex laughed again, and I turned around and ordered another drink. I felt Lex’s eyes on me as I did. I knew she wanted to say something, but she didn’t. She wouldn’t. Like me, she wouldn’t want to start a fight before we were apart for almost a week. No. She’d have some intervention for me next week, after she’s made another splash in the art world.

The door opened and a Middle Eastern woman in a navy blazer and matching pencil skirt walked in. She had dark brown skin, and rich features that just screamed at me that she was Scheherazade stepped out of Arabian Nights. A queen fit to tempt a king for a thousand and one nights. Her hair went all the way to her but in a perfect flow of glossy and silky black perfection, like she wore the night sky as a shawl. She looked like she had just come off of work, but her lipstick was too dark to be anything but a club look or something for a runway. I wasn’t close enough to tell — and to be honest, the lighting in here was shit — but her lips almost looked black as she sat down at the bar next to the allegedly attractive guy.

But that wasn’t the strangest part.

It was eleven o’clock at night, and this gorgeous and curvy woman was wearing sunglasses. They were an elegant pair, a rich rose gold metal formed into a cat’s eye frame. But she didn’t take them off when she sat down at the bar.

“Blind?” Lex asked. She didn’t need to mention who she was talking about.

“Doesn’t look like it,” I said. I know I’m a detective, and this is cliche as fuck, but I’m good at reading people. Besides not having a cane, she reached for a coaster without it being moved. No sound. She wasn’t just intuiting her surroundings via other senses; she was definitely not blind.

“Is it a weird fashion?” I asked Lex. I wore the same leather jacket every day for a decade, but Lex had her finger on the pulse of artsy people.

“If by that you mean out of fashion, sure,” Lex said.

“Yeah, but she looks…”

“Good,” Lex finished. I turned to her to see the wicked smile I loved about her. Lex wanted this woman, and I wanted to give it to her. I never felt jealous when Lex looked at women this way. She loved beauty, but she kept me as her home. That was all I needed: a place to call home.

Without another word, my wife hopped off her stool and went to seduce the beautiful stranger.

xxxxx

My wife’s lover didn’t take off her sunglasses as she ate her out. Whatever her reason for it, it didn’t matter. All I could see was the back of her head and the long curtain of silky black hair as she took her time with my wife’s pussy. Lex gripped the white leather couch, closed her eyes, and moaned. I moaned with her, pressing my fingers against my clit as I watched in the darkness. I drew little circles with my fingers, trying to build pressure and tease my clit. The best part was still coming. Lex would pretend to be a lesbian virgin, having never done anything like this before. But then she would —

“Oh, my god,” Lex said between moans. “That feels so good. I can’t believe I — can’t believe how –”

“Mmmm,” the Arab woman said through a mouthful of pussy. She gripped Lex’s thighs, letting her long black nails pinch the pale brown skin of my wife’s legs.

“Yes,” I said to no one at all. “That’s it. That’s it.”

People wanted to fuck my wife. Men. Women. Non-binary beauties. All of them wanted to be between her legs, to have a taste of some Asian fantasy or turning the meek and submissive girl into a total slut or being a straight girl’s first lesbian experience. They were hunters — predators — all of them. But Lex and I turned the game on its head. We hunted them. We let them think they were successful, that they had taken Lex and bent her to their will. But she was mine. She was always mine. It didn’t matter how hot they were or how powerful they were. It didn’t matter how much money they had or how strong they were. They ruled her for a night, but I ruled her for a lifetime. Every night — every time — she came back to me. Always. Always.

“She’s mine,” I said as I picked up pace. Sweat prickled all over my body, and in a frenzy, I peeled off the rest of my clothes. Even my bra had to go. I sprawled out on the bed, naked and hot, one hand with the phone and one hand on my clit, while my wife teased the world with what I owned.

“Holy shit,” Lex said. “Your tongue. Your tongue is amazing.”

Lex had looked like an art student on the outside, but on nights like these, she knew to wear the lacy stuff underneath. Sure, it helped whichever woman we picked up feel like a goddess when they peeled off Lex’s clothes, but she did it for me. She knew I couldn’t resist a lacy bra. The panties were gone, but the bra clung to my wife’s perky breasts. It was the only thing the Arab woman had left on my wife, and I had to applaud her taste. I would have done the same thing if Lex was here with me now.

“It’s so fucking long,” Lex said as she squirmed. For a moment, it looked as though she was trying to pull her pussy away from the woman, but that wasn’t possible. Lex would do this — she would play out the scene. She’d do it for me, even if she wanted to leave. She knew that I wanted this; she would do anything for me.

“All mine,” I said. My voice went husky as Lex’s voice went higher and breathless. She pulled her hips up, trying to escape the intense pleasure of the Arab woman, but the darker skinned woman clamped down on my wife’s thighs, pulling her back to her long tongue. She was going to make Lex cum, she was going to break her.

“But not own her,” I said. “Not own her.”

At that moment, the Arab woman stopped driving my wife crazy. She pulled away from my wife’s pussy and turned, looking directly into the camera. Her sunglasses were fogged up from the heat of fucking my wife, and her face was covered in Lex’s juices. But her lipstick was pristine. Not smudged. Not out of place. It was either a lipstick more expensive than I could imagine, or it was like her lips were —

“Fuck,” Lex growled. She grabbed the back of the Arab woman’s head and pulled her into her pussy. The demure and shy straight girl act was over. If Lex was a lesbian virgin, she was never going back now. The Arab woman could cum thinking she’d corrupted Lex and turned her gay. But we both knew she was mine.

“Fuck,” I said. I dropped my phone and scrambled in the dark, looking for my vibrator.

xxxxx

3 hours earlier…

The Arab woman carefully placed a hand on Lex’s as they reached for the same drink — their fourth round in an hour. Lex didn’t pull her hand away, but instead looked nervously at the woman “seducing” her. I would say they made eye contact, but it was impossible with the ridiculous sunglasses on. But on cue, Lex blushed and then slowly pulled her hand away. I don’t know how she blushed on command like that, but god, it drove me wild. The Arab girl laughed and took another sip of her dark drink. Lex giggled, and the conversation went on.

The rest of the bar was still sleepy and mostly empty, but I didn’t mind. I only had eyes for Lex. Watching her like this — helpless but totally calculating, was an incredible turn on for me. All the more knowing she did it for me. Years ago, she suggested an open or polyamorous relationship, but that wasn’t for me. I never minded if she wanted to sleep with others as long as I got to be a part of it. But I didn’t want threesomes, and I definitely didn’t want to talk to anyone she fucked. Ever. This arrangement was her idea, and it had worked for us beautifully so far.

“You’re here late,” said a smooth voice next to me.

I turned from my wife to see a heavyset man in his late forties or so. He was in decent shape — probably a lifter based on his size — but he wasn’t my type. The whole being a dude pretty much permanently disqualified him.

“Uh, yeah,” I said, turning away from him. I waved down the bartender to order a drink and give myself a reason not to continue the conversation with sleazy salt-and-pepper.

“Honestly,” said a man on the television. “I would have preferred if she had run off with all my money. But the bank says she hasn’t spent a dime. And they can’t track her. I just want my wife back.”

“Another billionaire barbie go missing?” the older gentlemen said to me.

‘Suppose so.” I spun around and tried to put all my focus on Lex and the Arab woman. But the dude couldn’t take a hint. I put a lot of work into a general ‘fuck-off’ appearance. I didn’t go full butch because, well, because I wasn’t going to let pervy dudes dictate my style. But I flirted with the line. I wore a leather jacket ripped black jeans, my dirty Gojira t-shirt whenever I was off duty, eyeliner that was about three days old at all times, and red hair to imply something honest about my temper. Sure, it was a little too emo-goth-death-metal shit, but it normally kept creepers like this away from me.

“Buy you a drink?” he said as he turned to face the rest of the bar with me.

“No thanks.”

“Come on.” He turned to the bartender. “One more of whatever’s she having.”

I tossed my head back. “Got any of the Glenmorangie,” I said, saying whatever overpriced whiskey I could think of.

The bartender and my gentleman caller both laughed and ignored me. Probably for the best. I didn’t want to have to fight this guy when he realized the drink was practically one grand for the bottle.

“You’re not my type,” I said. I took a sip of my drink, and the world’s least eligible bachelor followed my line of vision. Lex and our beautiful target were laughing and holding hands. I watched as the Arab woman possessively ran her thumb over the top of Lex’s hand possessively.

“Ohhhhh,” the man said as he finally caught on. “Too rich for my blood.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked with a smirk I couldn’t help. “So you settle for the easy fish like me?”

He laughed. “Fair. But when you get to my age, you understand what weight class you’re in. And those girls –” he pointed a thick finger at my wife and her future lover, “those girls are out of my league.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked, amused.

“A man needs to know his limits.”

“And what about me?” I tease. “Are they out of my league, too?”

The man puts down his drink and raises his hands defensively. “Oh no, I’m not walking into that trap.”

“Suit yourself,” I said before taking another sip. “But that one,” I said, pointing to Lex, “that one is mine.”

The man chuckled. “Looks like she’s taken.”

“Nah,” I said, shaking my head. She’s all mine.”

xxxxx

“All mine,” I said as I felt the pleasure build in my body. I was going to explode. Through my head flashed images of every girl Lex had ever fucked for my entertainment. That’s what other people didn’t see — couldn’t see. Lex didn’t prefer other women to me. She didn’t need these other women to complete her. This wasn’t cheating lite.

My beautiful, smart, sexy, and confident wife seduced other women and fucked them in front of me for my amusement. It was like I was married to my very own porn star who worked for my pleasure rather than any income. In a way, this Arab woman belonged to me too. Hey beautiful silky hair, her dark features, her pierced nipples, her heavy but perky breasts. All of her. All of them, every woman that Lex fucked, was for my orgasm. Sure, they got off on it too, but I get to watch and rewatch it over and over. I had a whole library of women I owned, and I could watch each of them whenever I wanted.

Lex was shrieking through my phone as the beautiful stranger worshiped her clit with her tongue and teased her g-spot with her fingers. My precious wife writhed as her body succumbed to her lover’s touch.

“Fuck. Fuck,” Lex said breathlessly, her voice getting higher with each shriek. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” The only other sound of the video was the wet sound of the Arab woman’s work. That sound always drove me crazy, always pushed me over the edge. To know how wet my wife was, how much she was getting off on it, how badly she needed to cum, how much she was melting for me.

“For me,” I said as my own pleasure exploded from my pussy all over my body. My nipples stiffened as the pleasure surged over my breasts. Waves of lightning rippled through me, and thunder echoed over my quivering thighs as the final image of Lex cumming for me stayed in my mind. The tongue between her legs didn’t matter. In the end, they were all me. They all existed because of my permission. I was the one making Lex squirm like a fish caught on a hook, grip the white leather of the couch like she was a drowning woman, shrieking like a banshee about to explode.

“All me.”

xxxxx

Shawha

When my beautiful meal was done cumming, I was just getting started. “My turn,” I said as I got off my knees. The couch was soaked with the long strokes of my tongue, and the meal’s sticky sin, but it wasn’t my couch. I didn’t own anything anymore. The Coven gave me what I needed, and I fed them. They fed me, and I hunted.

It was a reciprocal relationship, though I didn’t mind getting the shorter end of the stick.