#Artisan Printing Techniques

[divya-quapri]

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[alexgadart]

“In compliance with community guidelines” 2022, acrylic painting with screen printed quilt and embroidery, 50x80”

Click for full image!!

My thesis-painting this semester! I worked with two subjects of this pieces; 1) the censorship of queer and trans identities in our age of social media in part due to the anti-lgbt hate and laws passed this year and 2) the value of traditional art and artisanal mediums such as textiles ,in an increasingly digital art market, by appropriating digital iconography using entirely traditional mediums and techniques.

Ig: Alexgadart

[empirearchives]

Citizen Cooks in the Age of Napoleon

Excerpt about the role of cooks in France after the abolition of culinary guilds, and how they navigated a world which demanded for them to find new ways to stay relevant and prosperous. From Defining Culinary Authority: The Transformation of Cooking in France, 1650-1830 by Jennifer J. Davis:

French cooks sought new sites upon which to rebuild the authority of culinary labor. Throughout the early nineteenth century cooks increasingly adopted scientific terms to demonstrate their reliability and profound knowledge of the culinary arts. Such language communicated the author's education and distinction, just as an appeal to an elite patron had done in the 1660s and referral to a cook's professional expertise had done in the 1760s. The rhetoric and institutions of scientific knowledge also provided a means of distinguishing men's work from women's in the post-revolutionary era. During the early nineteenth century, cooks' claims to scientifically valuable savoir-faire rested on three crucial points of culinary innovation: food preservation, the improved production of bouillon, and gelatin extraction.

As these processes left the realm of traditional knowledge and became sites of scientific inquiry by tradespeople and amateurs alike, cooks sought to maintain authority in this arena by including scientific terms and theories in cookbooks, advertisements, and government petitions.

Two factors encouraged cooks' claims to scientific knowledge during this era. First, when Napoleon Bonaparte took the reins of government as first consul in 1799 and established himself as emperor in 1804, he raised medical doctors and academic scientists, Idéologues, to positions of political prominence. From these posts, the Idéologues subsidized experiments and inventions deemed useful to the nation and encouraged the popularization of science in the public sphere through state sponsorship of exhibitions and print forums. The Idéologues particularly supported research related to food preparation and preservation that might benefit France's armies and navies, with obvious benefits for professional cooks. Many cooks presented their particular techniques to the government during this time, seeking both financial recompense and public acclaim. Second, a voluntary association closely allied with the Idéologues' vision, the Société d'encouragement pour l'industrie nationale (Society for the Encouragement of National Industry), provided a forum in which formally trained scientists, politicians, merchants, artisans, and curious educated men might unite to address questions that inhibited French science and industry.

Together, these men sought to develop a more coherent program for industrial advancement than any one group could achieve independently. The society explicitly sought to join scientific knowledge to artisanal practical expertise, recognizing that each group had strengths that would benefit industrial development. This association invested heavily in three diffuse projects that eventually infused the most basic culinary processes with scientific awareness: new methods of food preservation to benefit the nation's armies and navies, new methods of stock preparation to sustain the nation's poor, and new methods of extracting gelatin from bones to improve hospital and military diets at little added expense.

[mybeingthere]

Decorative textiles by French artist Louis Barthélemy.

After studying at the prestigious St Martins School of Fashion in London, Louis Barthélemy arrived in Paris at the age of 20 to work in the Dior workshops where he designed the house's prints. Four years later, he decided to fly on his own and began traveling, while working for other major fashion brands, such as Ferragamo, with whom he collaborated for 7 years. During his travels, particularly in Egypt, Louis Barthélemy discovered new techniques and began a long-term collaboration with Cairo artisans. Very quickly, his textile creations imbued with Egyptian iconography made a name for themselves and earned him recognition from several major fashion houses.

[katzkinder]

I can see Tsubaki being annoying by rich people tm, especially when he has to deal with them during like business meetings/parties he may have to go to as a ceo

I think it would depend on his position relative to theirs.

When you’re a certain level of rich and influential, and you meet with someone who is a certain level of NOT rich and influential (but still above us peasants) you have the ability to act however you like and they just kinda have to deal with it because they need you to like them, and if not like them, they need you to still agree to work with them.

This goes both ways.

Tsubaki can only misbehave so much as his own class within the world of the rich and famous dictates, and he can’t misbehave too much even then, because his behavior could get back to and impact further dealings with OTHER rich people he needs to keep the favor of the make running his company go more smoothly.

His reputation is as someone eccentric but smart, imo. A classy, beautifully handsome man with traditional style and investment in preserving Japan’s cultural history, but surprisingly progressive in other aspects that make him a poor fit for much of the space occupied by other rich folk with the same taste as him (you know how old people stuck in their ways are, especially when money gives them so much sway)

He also doesn’t get along well with them for reasons related to surface level understanding of what makes something wabisabi or chic. The excessive opulence can turn him off easily. He is, however, well loved by the artisan community he likes to patronize. The tea houses, kimono shops, textile places, wood workers, dyers, sweet makers, potters, florists… He shows much respect towards their crafts and treats them with dignity. This is, I think, where a lot of his power actually comes from. His ability to network with the smaller people, the masters and apprentices working hard to preserve their arts. He’s particular, but not fussy. He respects their time and their efforts. He has a realistic idea of just how much time and labor goes into these things he loves, but he’s also no rube you can scam and won’t fall for empty flattery.

He loves ink prints and woodblocks, delights in modern techniques applied to traditional art forms, and is very good at chatting up the old grannies at the tea place (lol)

In a sentence. He’s one of Japan’s most eligible bachelors!

They really don’t get why he keeps someone as flashy as Belkia around— Doesn’t that clash? And what’s with the sulky kid… At least the woman is beautiful

Tsubaki really doesn’t like high society

[ssudas]

Techniques and craftmanship methods require for Jewelry making

Jewelry making involves a wide range of techniques and craftsmanship methods, each requiring specific skills, tools, and materials. Here are some of the most common techniques used in jewelry making, whether for handmade artisanal pieces or mass-produced collections:

Hand Fabrication

Sawing: Using a jeweler’s saw to cut metal sheets into desired shapes.

Filing & Sanding: Smoothing and refining metal surfaces or edges after cutting.

Soldering: Using heat to melt solder (a metal alloy) to join pieces of metal, such as attaching clasps, links, or settings.

Forging: Shaping metal by hammering it to create texture, thin it out, or curve it.

Polishing: Using buffing machines, wheels, or cloth to achieve a high-shine finish on the metal.

Casting

Lost Wax Casting: A mold is created from a wax model, which is then melted and replaced with molten metal. This is one of the oldest techniques used for making detailed metal jewelry pieces.

Centrifugal & Vacuum Casting: Used to ensure the molten metal flows evenly into the mold, minimizing air bubbles and imperfections.

Stone Setting

Prong Setting: Small metal prongs are used to hold a gemstone in place. Common for engagement rings.

Bezel Setting: A metal rim encircles the gemstone to hold it securely.

Pavé Setting: Multiple small gemstones are set closely together, often giving the illusion of a continuous surface of stones.

Channel Setting: Gemstones are set between two strips of metal, allowing for a seamless, smooth look.

Flush Setting: The gemstone is set flush with the metal surface, offering a sleek and modern aesthetic.

Gypsy Setting: Similar to flush setting but usually involves a hammered finish around the gemstone, used for bold, simple designs.

Engraving & Embellishment

Hand Engraving: Using sharp tools to carve intricate patterns or designs into metal surfaces.

Laser Engraving: A modern technique that uses lasers to create detailed engravings or inscriptions, often used for personalization.

Etching: Using acid or other chemicals to corrode the surface of the metal in specific patterns, creating a textured or detailed design.

Filigree

Wire Work: Fine wires of gold or silver are twisted and shaped into intricate designs, often with lace-like appearances. This technique requires high precision and is often used in traditional jewelry.

Enameling

Cloisonné: Small cells or compartments are created with metal wire, which are then filled with enamel (colored glass powder) and fired to create vibrant patterns.

Champlevé: Enamel is applied into recessed areas of metal, then fired to create a colored design.

Plique-à-Jour: A transparent enamel technique that allows light to shine through, giving a stained-glass effect.

Hammering & Texturing

Chasing: A technique where the surface of the metal is hammered from the front to create patterns or designs.

Repoussé: The reverse of chasing, where the metal is hammered from the back to create a raised design.

Texturing: Using different hammers, stamps, or other tools to create a variety of surface textures, such as hammered, brushed, or matte finishes.

Wirework

Wire Wrapping: Jewelry made from twisting and wrapping wire into shapes and loops, often around gemstones, beads, or crystals.

Weaving & Knotting: Using wire or string to weave intricate patterns, often incorporating beads or small stones.

Beadwork

Stringing: Threading beads, pearls, or gemstones onto a string or wire to create necklaces or bracelets.

Knotting: Tying knots between beads (commonly pearls) to ensure they don’t rub against each other and for added strength.

Loom Beading: Using a loom to weave tiny seed beads into patterns for bracelets, necklaces, or other accessories.

Electroforming

Metal Coating: This is a process where a base material (such as a wax or organic object) is coated with a metal layer through electroplating. It’s commonly used for creating lightweight, hollow jewelry pieces.

CNC & 3D Printing

CNC Machining: This computerized technique is used to carve precise patterns and designs into metal or wax, enabling intricate designs that are difficult to achieve by hand.

3D Printing: Used for prototyping or creating complex designs, 3D printing involves creating a wax or resin model layer by layer, which can then be cast in metal using traditional techniques.

Inlay & Marquetry

Stone Inlay: Stones, such as turquoise or lapis lazuli, are cut into thin pieces and inserted into metal grooves to create decorative designs.

Wood or Shell Inlay: Wood, shell, or other non-metal materials are inlaid into metal surfaces to create intricate designs or mosaics.

Embossing & Stamping

Stamping: Using metal stamps or dies to create patterns or letters on the surface of a piece.

Embossing: Using pressure to raise designs on metal surfaces, creating a three-dimensional effect.

Granulation

Beading Technique: Small metal beads or granules are applied to the surface of a piece and soldered to create intricate designs, often used in ancient and traditional jewelry styles.

Soldering & Welding

Soldering: Used to join metal pieces together with the help of solder and heat.

Laser Welding: A modern technique using laser technology to weld small or delicate pieces of metal together, often for intricate repairs.

Pearl & Bead Setting

Knotting: Hand-knotting is used in pearl necklaces to separate each pearl and add durability.

Glue Setting: Some beads and pearls are set using adhesives, especially in designs where drilling holes isn't practical.

By mastering these techniques and methods, jewelry makers can produce pieces ranging from simple, minimalist designs to complex, ornate creations. The choice of technique depends on the desired aesthetic, materials used, and the skill level of the jeweler.

[heartbeatan]

Toys: Part 6 (The Cross)

Return to The Ice Cubes.

Return to Toys Series.

Return to Namjoon Fanfictions.

Return to Masterlist.

Author: Leonardo

Rating:  🌑 (See Ratings)

Dated: 2023.04.18

Status:  Completed

Genre: Contemporary

Focus: Namjoon × Reader

Type: One-Shot

Series: Thematic (Toys)

Word Count: 22,200

The Cross

Namjoon always had an artistic eye that extended far beyond yours. The gap was pretty wide, since your idea of fine art was a fresh coat of paint on a bedroom wall, and your idea of sculpture was a handcrafted coffee mug. It was crazy to think that art had brought you two together in the first place.

It was an accident, though. The day you and he met had been when your friend, Ethan, dragged you to a flea market. Dragged was a bit of a dramatic word to use. You did love flea markets and visiting them was something you and him did often. It's just you had a wedding to go to later that day, and you would have preferred to have spent the morning pampering yourself. Your ex was going to be there, after all, and although there was nothing left to be said in that relationship, it didn’t mean you didn’t want to show up looking like you had slayed life this past year.

But you had made a promise. Ethan’s business hinged heavily on second-hand goods and antique finds, and he “needed” your help desperately today… allegedly. He often said he needed a lot of things. You did, however, plan on demanding a stipend one day when his startup became multi millions.

While he was busy sifting through antique jewelry pieces at one booth, you got lost somewhere on the other side of the barn. You had a bit of an obsession with decorative ceramics - something you were sure you inherited from your grandmothers. The second-hand ceramics booth was located next to the booth of a small business that distributed the works of local artisans. Namjoon owned that booth.

There wasn’t much separation between the two spaces, so as you wandered through your treasure trove, you slipped into his.

The pieces he sold were beautiful, but canvases of paint and charcoal were not your forte. You didn’t know much about styles and eras or techniques, nor were you much skilled in the world of interpretation. You simply looked… and you liked what you liked and didn’t like what you didn’t like.

You came across a print that gave you pause. It was dark, and ominous, mostly painted in grays and blacks, save for two tiny humanoid like figures which were pure white. It seemed like they were approaching some towering cliffs in the distance… or perhaps it was a castle of sorts? You liked what you liked, and you liked it, even though you weren’t sure what it meant.

As you stood staring at it, and staring at the price tag - which almost made you gag - that was when Namjoon approached you.

“You have a good eye,” you heard his voice behind you.

Your shoulders instantly tightened, the way they always tightened when a shopkeeper at the flea market approached you. You were easily swindled into impulse purchases when the seller gave you a personal touch and a simple pitch. You knew that about yourself. So, you tried often to dodge the gazes of sales reps if you could. But he caught you before you even knew he was there, and now, you feared he would too easily heckle you into buying something you didn’t want, need or could afford. You turned your head to look in his direction and offer him a polite smile. But when your eyes fell upon him for the first time, you realized that you were fucked.

He was… gorgeous. Tall, strong, a lean body that boasted wide shoulders and a wide chest. Dark hair styled and gelled off his forehead, but with a few strategically placed strands falling “naturally” around his eyes. His face was handsome, adorned by dimpled cheeks and a flawless brown complexion. He was wearing a simple, black button up shirt over a plain white tank, which hung just a touch lower than it needed too, exposing a hint of his well sculpted pecs beneath it. He had gray trousers on, wide in the leg but cleanly tailored, and comfortable looking as he rested his hands casually in its pockets.

His whole aura was friendly and inviting, and made you feel like he was recognizing you from many meetings before, and not just introducing himself to you for the first time. His gaze was perceptive, and warned you that if you weren’t wary, he could trap you into hours of conversation. And if you let that happen, if he worked you just the right way, you might end up buying half his merchandise.

“Not a lot of people stop to look at this one,” he continued, taking a step forward to stand next to you to stare at the frame and image. “I think at first glance it feels a bit too dark.”

“I can understand that. Who would want to feel haunted every time they went into the bathroom?”

He nodded. “You’re right. Some might, though.”

“Do you?” you asked quizzically, since something in his tone implied he may share the same values as “some people.”

“I don’t mind a good haunting,” he smiled. “How about you?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t find it all that ominous to begin with.”

“Yeah? What do you see when you look at it?”

“Oh, geez, don’t ask me,” you shook your head. “I’m not good at reading into other people’s symbolism. I’d be a terrible treasure hunter.”

He laughed. Even his laugh was sexy. It felt like it turned your blood into warm honey and relaxed your mind and body.

“Don’t overthink it. Just say the first thing that's on your mind. I’m curious now.”

You looked back to the picture and scanned its sharp brush strokes and its soft blends of monochromatic shades, then to the two figures crawling bright through the darkness.

“Adventure,” you finally said, when the word had formed itself inside your head.

“Really?” he asked quizzically. His reaction made you feel you had made a mistake.

“Yeah, like… it makes me think of a scene from some fantasy movie or something.”

He nodded, his lower lip pushed out in contemplation.

“I told you I’m not good at interpretation,” you reminded him.

“No, it’s great. I just hadn’t considered that one before. I’m thinking about it.”

“Well… what do you think of when you see it?”

“Hm,” he hummed, tilting his head as he looked at the picture from another angle. “My answer sounds pretentious. I like your answer better.”

“You shouldn’t. I don’t have an eye for art.”

“Sure you do,” he nodded down at the brown paper bundle in your hand. “Unless, of course, you bought that teacup and saucer for forty bucks because you really needed something to drink out of.”

You looked down at the paper, thinking about the floral turquoise, pink and gold set wrapped up in it which you had bought moments ago in the neighboring shop.

“Were you spying on me?” you chided.

His tall and confident demeanor seemed to shift into something more sheepish and bashful. “I may have noticed you when you walked in. Your, uh… boyfriend too?”

You pursed your lips together to hold back a smile that was threatening to split your face. He was prying for your relationship status, and for some reason, you weren’t bothered by his cheesy and fast approach.

“Not my boyfriend. Just a friend.”

“Hm,” he nodded, and he seemed to be biting back an obvious smile of his own. “Point still stands. It may not be on a canvas but it’s still someone's art and it speaks to you. So, it doesn’t matter what kind of eye you have. If you’re going to buy it, it’s what you make of it that matters.”

“Well… today, it doesn’t really matter. I can’t be buying anything else for myself. What I’m really in need of is a wedding present. My friends actually have quite an art collection. Maybe I can find something here they’d like?”

He exhaled and grimaced reluctantly. “That’s tough. It’s so hard to give stuff like this as gifts. Everyone’s tastes are so different… you just never know.”

“True. Do you do gift cards?”

“I don’t,” he laughed. “I’m not a very good businessman. I should though.”

“Well, my friend - his name is Ethan - he just started his own business. But he started out in marketing. You two should talk, you could probably help each other out.”

“And how about you? What do you do?”

“I’m a lab assistant,” you almost laughed. “I’d be of no help. Unless of course you need help reading your blood test results.”

You both smiled, but then an awkward silence began to fill the space between you. It felt like you both wanted to say more, to keep each others attention, but neither knew what to do next. The more you stood there, the more you convinced yourself that his interest in your singlehoodness had more to do with being friendly and less to do with an interest in you. You took in a deep breath, readying yourself to say your goodbye to him in an even more awkward moment as you left his shop empty handed, but before you could, he spoke.

“I have an idea,” he began. “Are your friends - the ones getting married - are they from the area?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, curious about where he was going with this. “Just the next town over. Why?”

“What if for their gift, we could arrange something. Like… a private tour of my studio. I have way more variety there anyway. We can all have lunch, they can browse. They can pick whatever piece they want? How does that sound?”

“You’d do that?”

“Well… yeah… You’d have to come along, of course, since it’s your gift and all,” he pretended as if what he was saying was obvious, but it really sounded like it was all a ploy to get to see you again. “I’ll give you a good price on whatever they choose.”

“How good?” you quirked your eyebrow.

“Very.” Something about the twinkle in his eye made your stomach flip. Did reckless flirting make him a sales juggernaut, or was he really wanting you? You were pretty sure it was the latter - perhaps you needed a little courage to figure out if you were right.

“The wedding is tonight,” you told him. “I don’t have anyone to go with.”

His head tilted slightly as he searched your face for confirmation he was reading you right. “Is that so?”

“What are you doing tonight?” you asked, then held your breath as you awaited his answer.

“Hopefully canceling the plans I already have?”

“Good,” you smiled. “I’m wearing green. I’ll pick you up at six.”

⁂

The wedding had been a riot. It would have been regardless. The Sam's were a beautiful couple who only surrounded themselves with good vibes and fun people. It was pretty easy to bring your stranger as your date and not worry that he would be left alone, awkward and outcasted - not in that crowd. But you didn’t leave him alone for too long. You didn’t want to. When you were with him, conversation and flirtation flowed as smoothly as liquor coming out of the bar. Before the first dance even took place, you two had found yourself in a comfortable rhythm that rivaled all the married couples in the room. You held hands as you conversed with other guests. He smoothed his palm over your lower back as you walked around the hall. You tucked yourself under his arm as you sat at your table and listened to the speeches. And you slow-danced with each other like you had done so a thousand times before.

It was you who kissed him first - outside, under the stars in the chilly evening air. You had taken a break from the heat and the drink and the noise, but soon found yourself in a new kind of heat.

That night, he came back to your place. You weren’t one for one-night stands or flings, and you didn’t often rush intimacy with new relationships - but that night, with him, it just felt right. The whole night was right. The whole weekend, in fact, was right. He didn’t leave your bed once, and he wouldn't have had he not had to work on Monday. You planned on seeing each other again the next weekend, but it proved to be too far away. By nightfall that Monday, you were in his bed. Even if your emotional connection hadn’t been so strong, your sexual connection would have been enough to convince you to be there. His artistry extended beyond his eye and into his game between the sheets, and you were addicted to all the ways he could make you come.

By the time Samantha and Samira got back from their honeymoon, and you were able to make good on their wedding gift, you and Namjoon had fully submerged yourselves into “Horny, In Love, and In a Relationship” status - which was beneficial to you since now their gift from his studio was from the both of you, and free of charge.

Months passed, and then a year - and all seemed right in your world. You were crazy in love. You learned something new about each other every day. Sure, you bickered on occasion, the way all couples do, but you never went to bed angry. You never second guessed yourself when it came to him. He was your rock, and you were his. Everyday, you found something to be happy about in your life with him.

Soon after the one year mark of your first meeting at the flea market, Namjoon brought up the subject of moving in together. You were elated by the idea. You would have said “yes” months ago - you might have even said “yes” the day after The Sam’s wedding. It was such a contrast to your previous relationship - in which the prospect of cohabitation actually ended the union. But this time, you just knew you wanted to be with him for good, and you knew he wanted to be with you for good. You knew he was the one, and you had no worries about bringing your lives together in this very real way.

The issue, however, was how you were going to bring your lives together. You owned a small wartime house. He owned an even smaller condo. Either you both were going to need to do a major declutter to make space for the other, or you were going to have to move - which was daunting since that would mean you would need to sell then buy. Even though your circumstances were pretty good, it was still a bit of a logistical nightmare - although a nightmare that promised a blissful ending.

Today, you had been laying in bed together: him topless, his bottom half buried beneath the sheets and his back propped against the headboard; you in your bra and panties, over the sheets, glasses on and head resting over a pillow. You were both scanning the paper and web for potential homes, and brainstorming what you needed and what you could work with.

You had a lot of needs. At the moment, you were floating the idea of Namjoon giving up his rented studio space and just running his business out of your home. You figured that with a little extra money spent you could ultimately save more from giving up his studio rental fees. You also needed a home with enough space to run your new business out of, since you had recently quit the lab, and started your own private testing distribution company. He was also keen on finding a place that had extra space to fit his personal art collection. His condo, while only one bedroom, felt like a museum. He had pieces placed and mounted in nearly every space imaginable. You wanted to accommodate them all, you did - but it was just so much. You two just needed so much space, and you worried a home like that just didn’t exist in your price range.

You dropped the paper, letting it flop away from your face and down onto your belly as you looked around his room and took stock of what he had in there alone. There were six frames adorning the walls, some sort of floor-mounted sculpture, a mobile sculpture, and two surface top pieces. Damn, you’d have to patch the holes and paint when you moved out and put the place on the market.

You then turned your attention outside, peering out his patio door which led outside. It would be nice to find a place with a bit more privacy. His condo was ground level and, unfortunately, his “balcony” was next to the path leading to the visitor parking lot. No matter what time of day or night, there were always strangers passing by the place where you wanted to get away from strangers. Unfortunately, your home wasn’t much better. Your rowhouse backed onto another cluster of row houses, and everyone could see everyone else’s business if you didn’t close the curtains. And, if you did venture outside with a lawn chair, you’d soon find yourself flanked by six more lawn chairs filled with your neighbors. You didn’t really mind, it was kind of nice since you got along with all your neighbors – but, sitting outside to get away from the world was just not an option there.

Namjoon had done his best to make his tiny area private. He had placed a giant, wooden “X” sculpture (which a client of his had given him as a gift) between his property and the path to act as a privacy screen. He strung rows of ivy around it, which grew thick and wild, and hung two solar-powered lanterns from the metal loops located on the structure’s upper beams. You quite liked its rustic ambiance, and it did a good enough job to protect you from strangers… but… it could be better.

“What if we got a farm?” you said out loud before you even registered the thought.

“You wanna make wine or raise chickens or something?”

You laughed, then discarded the paper completely, tossing it to the floor before you rolled over to nuzzle into Namjoon. “I mean, maybe, but I was thinking more that we could rent out some of the land to an actual farmer and make some extra money. But also, if we got a place with a barn, we could convert it into a gallery. That could be kind of cool, right?”

“Huh,” he looked up from his screen and stared off into a benign space in the room as he thought. “Yeah, actually, that could be cool. We’d need to seriously renovate a barn though. It’s gotta be climate controlled and whatever insurance asks. Could become quite the undertaking.”

You sighed. Just one more thing to look into… costs for renovating a barn. Looking for a place to buy was fun at first, but this far in, you were just overwhelmed, and over it.

You looked at his screen. It seemed he too had given up on the stress of house hunting and embarked on a new stressor – planning his gallery event, which was to take place the following evening.

“I’m sorry, babe," he apologized. "I got so much today, I think we need to table house hunting for now.”

“That’s okay. I think I need a break from it too. It’s too much.”

“We’ll get there,” he sighed, acknowledging that he too was frustrated with the process. “But, we’re lucky, right? We have our own places, no one is on a lease. We have time to be patient. Something will work out.”

“Maybe we should consider selling your condo and getting a storage unit? I’m getting tired of living in two places. I’ve lost track of a lot of underwear.”

“Yeah,” he laughed. “Every time I go to get dressed it’s a struggle. I either have all shirts and no pants, or all pants and no shirts.”

“Speaking of, did you pick up your suit for tomorrow from the dry cleaners?”

“Fuck,” he cussed as he looked up, again, from his laptop. “No.”

“I’ll pick it up on my way back from my sister’s.”

“Don’t worry. It’s fine. I’ll wear something else. You enjoy your date.”

“It’s okay. We’re just doing lunch and it’s nearby. Do you need me to get anything else while I’m out?”

“No, no, babe. I got this.”

He said that the last time… and while everything did work out the last time, and the time before that… there were definitely some obstacles that could have been avoided. Art was his forte - party planning was not. He really needed an assistant - or a COO. Hopefully one day he could afford to pay one. In the interim, he had you.

“Did you pick up the liquor license?” you tried to delicately pose the question and not hurt his ego over the last crisis.

He pursed his lips and went silent - and you knew his answer.

“No,” he grumbled shamefully.

Lord, you were afraid to ask about the charcuterie boards.

“Fuck, I need to call the grocery store to order the platters.”

And there was your answer.

“Okay,” you slapped his laptop closed, “Everybody out of the bed.” You then crawled off the mattress and stood tall next to the bed, peering down at him. It was game time. “I will be back by one with the dry cleaning. You go get the license,” you pointed a finger sternly at him. “That’s the first thing you do the moment you leave this apartment. Do not forget. The office closes early today.”

“Baby, I love when you order me around,” he winked.

“We have a farm to buy, Namjoon. Focus. Don’t order the platters – I’ll make them when I get back.”

“That’s a lot of work,” he shook his head. “You don’t need to.”

“It's fine. I’m not catering a whole dinner, it's cutting up cheese and putting it on a plate with crackers. We were going to transfer it all onto my nice platters anyway, so we’re basically overpaying them to slice up cheese. It’ll be a fraction of the cost if I just do it.”

“Babe, I have the money in the budget this time. You don’t have to do that.”

“Save the money. When we’re filthy rich we’ll start paying for overpriced cheeses and people to cut them.”

“Well, that might be sooner than later, cuz Ethan is a genius. We actually sold out tonight. I might have to start doing back to back events to meet demand."

“He is a genius,” you smiled proudly. Ethan was good at marketing. And he seemed to love it. The only reason you suspected he left his corporate job was because he didn’t like the bureaucracy. Now, if only Ethan could admit to himself that he was better at marketing businesses rather than running his own. Poor guy was on his third attempt, and it was going about as good as the previous two.

Perhaps if this event really did go well, Ethan could become a more permanent fixture in Namjoon’s business. He could be exclusive, but more independent as a creative himself. Truth is, you fantasized about a future where the three of you operated a chain of galleries. Between Namjoon’s eye, your ability to analyze and manage, and Ethan’s ability to market, you really could be a powerhouse trio.

One day, maybe… but today, you needed to just get by.

“Alright, I’m going to go shower,” you announced, then turned to head towards the bathroom.

“Y/N,” he called to you just before you disappeared. You turn to look at him and wait for what he was about to say. “Thanks for helping me. I don’t think I could do this without you.”

“You’re welcome,” you smiled warmly back at him.

“I owe you one… again.”

“Well…” your voice trailed off and your tone shifted. Namjoon picked up on the change immediately. “You could pay me back right now - in the shower.”

It took him a moment to realize what you were asking, but when he did, the corner of his mouth pulled into a lascivious grin - the kind that immediately lit your insides on fire. “I’m right behind you.”

⁂

Even though Namjoon had never asked you to participate in his shows as anything but yourself, you still quickly established a simple routine as his charming girlfriend: smile and inspire potential buyers; praise and congratulate the artists in attendance; make sure the picked over charcuterie boards didn’t look too depressing. As you said, you had a house to buy.

Namjoon - although he may not always have the best instincts for pre-planning a gallery event - once he was at the event, he was in his element.

You had started the evening, per usual, at his side, hand in hand. But he had a job to do - so, as the night rolled on, as per usual, you found yourself lost in the crowd while he tried to be in twelve places at once. He was mingling left and right, greeting everyone in the room, schmoozing the people with big pocketbooks for just a little longer, before slipping into the office to execute any successful transactions. It was exhausting to even watch him, but it also brought you an immense amount of pride.

Namjoon’s parties typically focused on three or four of his clients who had new works released. You weren’t really sure if that was typical of the gallery scene, but this was the way he did it. The space near the entrance housed a general collection of sample works from all his clients, but as you moved past the bars and into the back, you would step into the main room. It was a large, rectangular space with stark white walls and high ceilings that resembled a fly system above a theater stage. The room was sliced up into quadrants by moveable “walls”, so you could wander smoothly between each of the four artists' exhibits, yet still know exactly whose work you were looking at. Although, it wasn’t very difficult to discern one artist from the next. Elio was the first quadrant on the left, who did digital graphics; to the right of him was Phaidra, who was a Collage Artist and Draughtsman; behind her was the new client, Ashley, who did a variety of sculpture works, was mostly known for their Cast work, but was moving into more assemble pieces. And then… there was Pasqualina.

Pasqualina was a long term client. She was truly a jack of all trades. She did everything imaginable - from pottery to woodworking, photography to videography, drawing to painting, sculpting to installation. Hell, she even sewed her own clothes and made her own jewelry. Every time she had a new collection out, it was a surprise for everyone - you just never knew what she had been up to those weeks or months in isolation. All you needed to know was that she was working, and if she didn’t make contact by month three, you should probably call the authorities.

You hadn’t seen the exhibit yet, but you had gotten a bit of the lowdown from Namjoon. In short, this collection was about sex.

And, like her vast diversity of skill, her collection was diverse. Diverse in artistic mediums, and diverse in content. It was about all kinds of sex; all kinds of people having sex; all kinds of ways in which people have sex; all the ways in which people consume sexual content.

Sex. Sex. Sex.

She had apparently been working on this for years. To you, it felt like her work was more of a thesis rather than an exhibit.

Just before you entered her section, you caught a pair of eyes looking across the room at you. It was Namjoon. Since at these events you were technically his date but you couldn’t spend a lot of time with him, this was pretty normal. Every once in a while, he’d look for you, and he’d look at you with love and appreciation for your mere presence and support - it made your chest flutter. But at this moment, as you were about to enter the avant-garde section of the gallery, he winked and looked at you with a darkness that slithered down your spine. You bit your lip to suppress a blush and winked back at him. Namjoon was pretty exhausted after every show, but tonight maybe you might get lucky thanks to the content.

The exhibit was fairly well organized. Each section centered around a sculpture of sorts Pasqualina created. The first sculpture was a neutral figure, ethereally representing a human body, but it appeared to be made entirely of undergarments - from cotton boxers and briefs, to silky bras and panties, and lacey lingerie and pleather adornments. Surrounding the sculpture hung its complimentary works of art - some paintings, a charcoal sketch, some photographs, and a few other smaller table top or wall hung forms. Everything, in either an abstract or a concrete way, represented intimate clothing.

The section you found the most remarkable was the one dedicated to ropes. Pasqualina had created a mobile made entirely of rope and was controlled by some robotics. It hung in front of a flat, white screen which showcased the imagery from a projector set up behind it. The images were renderings of people suspended in various Kinbaku poses, and as the images shifted, the robotic mobile would shift along with it, so that the 3D rope would align with the 2D image and give the appearance that it was in fact holding the figures in the video. As much as it was cool to see, and as beautiful and sexy she made the display look, you were stunned at the thought of how much precision and planning it would have taken to get it just right.

Another section caught your attention, however, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint why… the Saint Andrew's Cross. You were aware of what it was - although, it wasn’t until reading the display blurb that you realized it had an official name and wasn’t solely called “one of those big sex X’s.” Tonight, you learned that it had been named after someone who had allegedly been crucified on one. But that wasn’t the part that caught your attention. Something was… familiar?

You explored the associating images. One canvas held a digital graphic of a white, pink and black, single-line drawing of a man bound to the cross. Another image - one you particularly liked was of an older woman, her every limb completely and intricately bound to the legs of the cross, while a wand vibrator was tied tight to her pussy. It was a beautifully taken photograph, but it was also hot as all hell. You didn’t know much about that world, but your libido certainly seemed to like the concept, even if your head was slightly in the dark. What would this be like in the real world? Who controlled the wand? Was it on a remote, or was it just left on full blast? Would your partner just watch you lazily from the corner of the room? Touch himself while he did? Would he stop the toy and unbind you once you came? Or would he leave you there to squirm and whine your way through the sensitivity until you came again?

Your body shivered, and you subtly shook off the feelings of arousal these thoughts had brought you.

After exploring each of the pieces, you took one more moment to examine the Cross again - there was just… something…

⁂

As the evening ended, and the guests left, Namjoon was still busy with whatever it was he had to do before he could call it quits. While he did, you slipped into the backroom, kicked off your heels, and curled yourself up on a couch. You were grateful that tonight, despite pulling yourself into the tightest and more unforgiving black dress you owned, you had the sense of mind to forgo your Spanx and shapewear. They would have been a real burden by now.

You weren’t sure how quickly you passed out on that couch, and you weren’t sure how long you had been sleeping when you woke to the feel of Namjoon’s hand warm on your waist, and his voice soothingly calling your name.

“Ready to go?” he asked, barely louder than a whisper.

“I didn’t pack up the food or anything,” you said as you stretched the sleep out of your body.

“I did it. Everything is in the truck already.”

“Mm,” you nodded, then sat up and looked around - pleased to find that you weren’t too groggy. “What time is it?”

“Eleven.”

“Oh, good.” You were pleased by that too. The night was still young. Sometimes he didn’t get out until well after two in the morning. “How did it go?”

“Amazing,” he gushed, his whole face brightening the dimly lit room. “Sold about 90% off the floor. Have quite a few appointments for later in the week to look at what wasn’t on display.”

“Aw,” you smiled. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he leaned in and gave you a gracious peck on the lips.

“Mm, I don’t know, but I’ll take the compliment," you said as you banded your arms over his shoulders. "Are we going to be able to afford the farm?”

“If the next few shows go as well as this one, we might be able to afford two.”

“Ooo, Mr. Moneybags. That’s so sexy.”

“Somehow I knew you were only after me for my wealth.”

You chuckled, and he smiled - then you pulled yourselves together to kiss once more, this time letting your lips linger. His hand, which had been on your waist, began to slip slowly south - over your hip, along your outer thigh - until it brushed past the hem of your dress - at which point it took a directional change, and you felt his palm warm and smooth as it slid up your skin beneath your skirt. You smiled against his lips - you were definitely getting lucky tonight.

“You know,” you whispered, then mischievously flicked your eyebrows. “I stole a bottle of champagne so we could celebrate.”

“Y/N,” his voice was dark and teasing, “that champagne was paid for by the gallery.”

“Am I in trouble, sir?" you pouted.

"Mm,” he hummed, ignited by your words. “Keep that up and you might be.”

You quirked your eyebrow - you wouldn’t mind getting into a little trouble tonight. The sooner you got out of there, the sooner you could get into more trouble.

“You, uh, wanna do a lil walk-through before we go?” he asked.

It was a simple question: usually, before any show, he would give you a sneak peak of the exhibits. Just you and him, wandering the displays while he’d enthusiastically give you the rundown of every piece, and in return you’d offer your layman's thoughts. Pasqualina’s setup was so intricate and quite literally took up to the very last minute to complete, so you didn't get the chance to walk through prior. But when he asked you this time, there was a touch of gravel in his voice, and the hint of a twinkle in his eye. You suspected him asking you now had less to do with your tradition, and more to do with the sexy setup in general. As you thought about it, the instinctual part of you that wanted to get back to the privacy of his condo began to fade away, and the part of you that was rather excited at the idea of walking alone, late at night, with your incredibly sexy (and awake) boyfriend, through a literal museum of smut, began to win.

“I think I wanna do that very much,” you replied to him, your voice very much matching his suggestive tone.

“Excellent,” the twinkle in his eye now more than just a hint, and the suggestion in his voice easily causing your stomach to flip. He stood up and stretched out his hand to you. You grabbed your heels and your purse, and took his hand, then the two of you made your way out of the back room and into the main area.

⁂

As it turned out - you didn’t need to steal a bottle of champagne - Namjoon already had one waiting on ice. So, once again, you found yourself standing at the edge of the sexy area, peering in at the space with intrigue while Namjoon poured you a fresh flute of bubbly.

“This one was something, wasn’t it?” he smiled as he took your hand in his, then guided you both across the threshold into the exhibit.

“It really was,” you agreed. “Even though a lot of it was so explicit, it didn’t feel… pornographic. She did a great job. Everything was beautiful and interesting.”

“What was your favorite?”

“Well…” your eyes wandered around the space, landing on a few pieces you remembered vividly, and noticing a few others you couldn’t recall seeing at all. You then spotted the Kinbaku mobile that you had loved so much. It looked kind of depressing now that it was hanging flaccid in the air with no accompanying video – but the amount of awe it had left you made it worthy of your Top 5.

“That…” you pointed upward at it. “It was pretty damn cool. I assume it’s what took all the last-minute prep?”

“It was,” his neck quirked as he recalled the memory. “It was intense. I’ve never seen her that panicked before. But it was worth it.”

“Did anyone buy it?”

“Actually, yes.”

“Now that is intense. I mean, it was cool and all, but I don’t know if I would want it in my house.”

“Fair enough,” he smiled as he took a sip of his champagne.

“I mean, where would you even put it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they’ve got a sex dungeon or something.”

“Ooo,” you cooed. “That would be a fun room to decorate. Maybe if we’re lucky we’ll find a farm with a dungeon - or one of those tornado bunkers.”

“Ha!” he laughed. “Yeah, sure. Just another thing to add to the list.” He lifted your intertwined hands to his lips and kissed the back of your hand. “What else did you like?”

“Um, her digital drawings were great. And I did really like the panty sculpture.”

“Me too. Would you put it in our house?”

“If I wasn’t afraid of my mother seeing it,” you grimaced. “I’d put it in our dungeon, though.”

He smiled again, amused by your playful banter – but you could see he was also a touch excited by the idea.

You two lingered through the exhibit, exploring each section and taking time with every single piece. You both dissected each item as if the subjects depicted were as benign as an apple, and the art itself was as existential as June Leaf. But what you didn’t discuss was how incredibly stimulating it all was - how each scene before you sparked a heat between your thighs, or made your spine tighten and your skin tingle. The flesh beneath Namjoon’s hand, which was now around your hip, felt sensitive and even arousing. When you’d pause in front of something that caught your biblical attention, he would pull your body against his – your back flush against his chest, your ass tight against his hips – and then your everything would buzz, feeling as sensitive as all hell. There was something hot about not talking about the erotic elephant in the room.

He too was unraveling against you. You could feel his heart beating heavily in his chest and hear his quiet breaths becoming dense.

Eventually, he gave up on the charade of pretending like all this was in the name of artistic appreciation. He wrapped his arm tight around your waist, while his champagne hand brushed your hair off your shoulder, exposing your neck long to him. Your eyes closed, and you felt your body melt into his when his mouth landed warm and wet over your neck, then trailed long, slow kisses north towards your jaw.

“So, which one’s turned you on the most?” he whispered against your ear, before taking a nibble on the lobe.

“Are you sure you wanna know?” you asked, your hips now swaying against his while you smoothed your hands over his arms encasing you.

“Mm hm,” he hummed into your flesh.

“I… liked the tentacle drawings. The Hentai looking stuff.”

He pulled out from your crook to look at you – not in judgment – just surprised by your answer. “Really?”

“Yeah. I felt a little weird at first for liking it, but… I don’t know, something about it was super hot.”

He grinned. He took your champagne flute and discarded both of them on a tall table, then took your hand again and walked you to the section you were referring to. Once again, he wrapped his arms around you, and your bodies molded together as you swayed in tandem with each other.

“What was so hot about it?” he asked.

You didn’t need to think too much about it. You had made peace with your feelings about its strangeness hours ago.

“Well… this one,” you pointed to a small trivision-board-like setup. It rotated constantly, revealing three images, and thus giving the illusion that the images were all one in motion. The focus was of an alien, who really just looked human save for the shape of her ears. She was held in the clutches of some large, blueish creature. It restrained her arms and her legs in its tentacles, even holding her tight at the waist, and her head high by the neck. Its other appendages pleasured her in every way they could. Two pinched and twisted her nipples, while one played with her clit, and another slipped deep and slick inside her. In the real world, you would absolutely be horrified if you came across a giant creature such as this – but standing there, looking at the work in all its fantastical glory, you couldn’t deny that the thought of being held and fucked like that wouldn’t be in your top sexual fantasies of all time. “She's… restrained… and at someone else’s mercy. But all they want to do is fuck her to please her. It’s sexy as hell.”

“I like that idea too.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yup. I think that’s why the St. Andrew’s Cross is my favorite.”

You felt giddy from his confession. You liked that about the cross as well. You had already fantasized about it several times over since you saw it, and especially since you inspected its accompanying images. You shuffled awkwardly towards it – only awkward because Namjoon still had a tight hold on your torso. But you made your way to it, and stood in front of it, once again admiring its ominous presence and its intriguing potential.

It only took moments until Namjoon resumed his heated assault on your body. His ministrations graduating from groping your clothed body, to now brushing his hands dangerously high beneath your skirt. The pads of his fingers danced in the space between your thighs and pulled high around the hollow where your hips and legs met - teasing you with the prospect of finding refuge beneath your panties. But he didn’t - at least not yet. His thumbs would play with the band of your panties, and your mind and body begged him to strip you of them - but just before you thought he would, he’d smooth his palm south once more, over your upper and inner thighs - his nails raking enticingly just past your pussy, which was dampening with every unkept promise.

His mouth continued to caress the bare skin at your neck, and his teeth and tongue played gently with your ear. Your ass grinded into his groin, and you could feel his pants stiffening against you. Fuck, you wanted him to take you there, right then.

He then cupped your heat firm in his palm, while his other hand moved roughly over your dress before it dipped beneath the neckline and grabbed a fist full of your breast. You exhaled a small sob as your body fashioned itself into his form. Your one hand brushed over his arm between your legs, encouraging him to stay there and perhaps do a little more, while the other reached over your shoulder and grabbed a fist full of the hair at the back of his head.

“Oh!” you keened as his palm pulled hard on your pussy and pressed your hips even higher and further into him. Shit! You needed to get out of there before you took matters into your own hands and fucked him stupid right here on the gallery floor. Perhaps you could rendezvous in his office again. You had only done it once, but it was hot as fuck. It had happened the first time you visited his studio, right after you started dating and you two were insatiably fucking on every surface available to you. You remembered that time specifically, because it had been the first time he had truly debased and dominated you in all the right ways. It had been a hot summer day, and you had on a cute, tan, linen skirt which you paired with a simple, but light, white blouse. It was midday, and he brought you to the office after he closed the gallery doors for lunch. He sat in his chair, looking at you with that inquisitive gaze of his, like he was assessing you, and plotting what he’d do to you. He asked you to take off your panties, and you near salivated at the idea of obeying him. You did. Then he told you to stand in front of him, which you also did - gliding tepidly across the room to stand between his desk and his widespread knees. He told you to bend over and put your hands on the desk. You did that too, presenting your bare ass and even barer pussy to him. You remembered how your insides tingled with anticipation, then with inhibition, as he took so damn long to do… anything.

But you also remembered how much it shocked your system when you felt his long, wide tongue lick firm and slow along your slit. You remembered how your body shivered when he did it again, and how it quaked when he gripped your ass cheeks in his palms, and kicked your feet wider so he could eat even more of you.

He still had that desk in his office. It was old, wobbled, and the drawers were crooked and falling apart. It needed to be replaced. There were a few scratch marks that broke the surface’s thick painted and re-painted coat. Those marks were created by you, when Namjoon had you mindless and teetering on the edge of going insane if you didn’t come. Your nails scratched into the decrepit desk when he finally stood from his seat and slid his thick, long cock inside you.

He fucked you mercilessly, testing the legs of the desk and testing your threshold for capitulation. It was one of your most memorable sexual encounters. Tonight might shape out to be memorable as well.

You unwound yourself from his grip and turned to face him - pressing your breasts against his chest, smoothing your palm around his neck as you pulled him into a deep and passionate battle of tongue, and letting your other hand dip low to grope him over his pants.

He kneaded the fleshy mounds of your backside, sinking his fingers into the tissue and groaning into your kiss when you palmed him just right. He wanted more - the way you had wanted more. And he wanted it right now, the way you had wanted it right when it was he who was playing with you.

You ended the kiss, but your noses continued to tickle, and your lips still hovered near each other, wanting to engage once more.

“I think, Mr. Moneybags,” you made a move with both hands to unbuckle his belt, the clank an arousing sound between the breathy and needy pants heard between you. “It might be time you get a new desk. Perhaps we should give the one you got one last hooray before it goes to the graveyard?”

“Mm,” he hummed, liking the idea. “I like that desk though. Every time I see your nail marks in it, I think about you bent over it.”

“I like that,” you smiled. “Let’s go create a few more?”

“Actually, babe…” he reached down and grabbed your wrists, pulling them away from his pants. He then raised your one arm above your head and twirled you around - like you were dancing - until your back was to him once more, and he was holding you close to him as you once again stared at the St. Andrew’s Cross. He pressed his chin to your head, and you felt his breath fan over your cheek. “I was thinking, maybe we give this a try.”

Your mind sort of froze… sort of…

You were pretty confident that what he meant by “this” was the Cross. The only reason why your brain froze was because “this” was a piece of art. Namjoon took his job very seriously - so it stumped you that he could possibly even think about degrading a piece of art by fucking on it - even if the art was made for fucking in the first place.

You twisted your lips, skeptical that you had heard him right. “Isn’t that against the rules?”

“It’s very much against the rules.”

“But… you still want to?”

“I very much want to. I think you’d look really good strung up to that thing. You wanna break some rules with me, Y/N?"

You shivered at the mere suggestion. A part of you - albeit a very small part of you - ran through a list of consequences for engaging in this forbidden behavior: getting caught, causing damage, some sort of ethical question as to whether it should be sold afterward. But, again, that part of you and its list was small. The other part had a forbidden list of its own - a list of why the forbidden was intoxicating: getting caught, touching something that wasn’t supposed to be touched, being restrained in the middle of the night in a public space when you should be sound asleep at home. All the reasons why you shouldn’t were also all the reasons why you wanted to. So, with a salacious grin curving your lips, you took a breath and announced your decision.

“Let’s do it.”

“Alright,” he agreed, satisfaction and deviousness filtering his voice. The backs of his fingers tickled softly down the length of your body, until they reach the bottom hem of your dress. He twisted the fabric in his grip, then pulled north, slipping the cotton over your thighs, your hips, your waist. You raised your arms, letting him pull it the rest of the way off of you, then he tossed it to the side - leaving you exposed in the brightly lit space in nothing but your black lacey bra and matching panties. Once again, you appreciated your instinct to avoid any shapewear tonight.

You turned to face him, and as his mouth came down to devour yours, he walked you backwards and towards the cross, while you worked away at unbuttoning his shirt. You felt the wood hard at your back, as he shoved you just a little harder than necessary against it. His tongue dove deeper, firmer into your mouth, massaging yours hot and wet with his. Your hips pressed firm into each other’s, in a seesaw of needing to feel each other, but also in need of space to get him naked enough too. You worked a little faster at his shirt, and he nearly ripped it when he helped you pull it off his shoulders.

Your kisses became even more manic as you tugged at his belt - your lips only parting for the brief moment when he pulled his undershirt over his head, and bared his broad, sculpted chest to you to caress and press yourself against. You wanted to touch him. You wanted to feel him warm and needy beneath your palms. But you needed to first reduce his pants to a pool on the floor. So, you did, and the sound of his belt was heard skidding across the floor when he kicked everything to the side.

You now made out with ferocity, your hands scratching across every ridge and valley his muscular body formed, him gripping and twisting your flesh with a bruising force - your hips rolling in tandem as his cock grew harder and harder against you. You knew that using the cross properly required someone to be cuffed and bound against it - but in truth, you might not make it that far if you didn’t slow down.

You gripped him hard under the chin, forcing his head to raise so he had to peer down at you over his nose. You looked up at him with rogue delight, inspired by the feeling of dominance this simple gesture brought you. Tonight, you absolutely wanted to be his little fuck toy bound tight and helpless to this heavy device at your back… but, that didn’t mean you wouldn’t enjoy a little detour first.

You guided him to the right as you stepped to the left, until he was the one whose back was against the wood, and you were the one standing authoritatively before him.

His eyes sparkled with intrigue and curiosity as he came to realize how the roles weren’t panning out the way he expected.

“I thought you wanted to be fucked silly, Y/N,” he said, a touch of defiance in his words.

“I do,” you smiled, but not in a way that encouraged calm. “But I just think that you, as my caring, loving boyfriend, should try it out first. Or are you afraid?”

“Should I be afraid?” he asked, although he sounded far from afraid.

“I guess we’ll find out, Joon,” you winked, then reached up to grab the cuff above his left shoulder.

The cuffs were easy enough to work - you and Namjoon weren’t exactly foreigners to them in the first place. You started with his wrists, giving the leather straps a tight tug before you moved onto your next task - not enough to hurt him, just enough to let him know his place. You then brought your face to his, inching forward to kiss him - but when you were close enough that he could reach forward and kiss you, you dipped your body low and out of his reach - leaving him chomping at air and laughing in a harsh mix of wanting, frustration and arousal. You kissed your way down his chest, letting your hands smooth over his every glorious hill and chasm, taking an extra moment or two to let your tongue play with his nipples - just the way he liked, and just enough to elicit a grumble in the back of his throat.

You dipped further south, licking softly over the skin between his navel and his boxers. His pelvis jerked and quivered a few times - especially when you played with the southern regions of his v-lines and happy trail. His cock was already solid as a rock and straining against his boxers. It wanted so badly to be touched and licked and inside anything. You wanted it in your hand, and in your mouth, and your gut - but restraint was the purpose of the Cross - so even you as the one in charge, needed to exercise it.

You straightened your legs, letting your breasts brush deliberately over his bulge as you made your way to stand tall in front of him. He took in a sharp breath of air as you pressed your body against his while you reached for the straps dangling behind where the large pieces of lumber met. You could feel his erection against your belly, and you held the contact while you pulled the strapping around his waist and secured his torso tightly to the device.

The slight but intentional contact was making him crazy, and it was making him even crazier now that he struggled to gain more friction. The chains at his wrist jangled when he made an unconscious move to grab a hold of you, and his body made a thud as he tried to thrust his pelvis against you, only to be held back by the restraint around his core.

You stepped backwards, breaking all contact and smiled triumphantly. For a second it looked like he could have killed something to get to you and get your body back grinding over his dick. But he didn’t… he couldn’t. Pasqualina’s work was always very, very thorough.

You had one more task to complete before you could give him what he wanted. You dropped to the floor and took his ankle in your hands. You guided him to shuffle his feet wide until they aligned with the cuffs at the base of the wooden legs.

After you strapped him in tight, you rose from the floor and stood a mere few inches before him, smugly watching his face for every micro-reaction he had, while your fingertips danced teasingly over his abs and thighs, then played beneath the waistband of his underwear.

“Should you call me Mistress?” you taunted him, tilting your head arrogantly.

“I’ll call you whatever you fucking want,” he breathed, the words almost not making it off his tongue.

“You want me to touch you?”

He looked at you like you were crazy. Of course, he fucking wanted you to touch him. But this was the game, and he needed to learn how to play it.

“Yes.”

“‘Yes’ what?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Ooo,” you patronized him. “I do like the sound of that.”

“Keep playing, Y/N,” he retaliated with an admonishing quirk of his eyebrow. “You’re just giving me ideas.”

“Mistress,” you reminded him.

He inhaled sharply through his nose, the whistle a warning as well a final vestige of his defiance. “Mistress.”

“Good boy,” you grinned. You stepped forward, ensuring his eyes stayed laser focused on yours, because you wanted to enjoy the way his breath hitched and how his shoulders lifted and tightened when you grabbed harshly on his bulge. You began rubbing him over his boxers in long, smooth, firm motions, and reveled in how his throat bobbed before your eyes as he swallowed back his groans. You lifted your freehand and brought a pointed finger to the base of his throat.

“You like this?” you asked, as you drew a line down the center of his chest. “You like how I touch you?”

He swallowed again, and opened his mouth to answer, but you spoke before he could utter a word.

“Be sure of your answer, baby,” you warned him. The reason why Namjoon was such a monster between the sheets was because he never had an issue being vocal. Whether you were in the thralls of romance or filth, if he wanted something, he said it. If you wanted something, he demanded to hear it. If you were back home right now - perhaps still trapped in the front hall in a heavy groping session, he would have told you that he wanted your hand raw on his bare, slickened cock - not guarded by his Kleins. If he had use of his hands, he’d probably right now also be fucking you with them. Back at the condo, or in your house, or on his desk, or in his truck, wherever it was you were, he was often the one in charge. He took what he wanted when it came to you - and gave it back to you tenfold. You loved it. But sometimes, you wanted to be the one with the heavy-hand, and today you found your opportunity. Today, he had no choice but to take what he got at your discretion. Today, he had no choice but to learn to behave. “Now, what were you going to say?”

He closed his mouth, and you watched as a muscle ticked in his jaw as he rearranged his statement.

“I love how you touch me, Mistress.”

“Good,” you smiled, then you rewarded him. You trailed your hand high, then dipped your fingers beneath his waistband, and dropped your palm deep into his boxers, fisting him at the base, then stroking him north just the way he liked.

“Ugh,” a soft, but heavy groan escaped his throat and pushed itself between his lips. You swirled your thumb over his tip, happy to feel a plentiful bounty of precum beading from it. You twisted your wrist, pumping down then up again, spreading his lube across his shaft, and finding a pleasing rhythm.

“You like this?” you asked him, as you swirled your fingers around his sensitive tip, causing him to choke on his own throat.

“Yes,” he husked.

“You want more?” you asked, your tone issuing another “tread lightly” warning, which he caught.

“Is that question a trap?”

“Yes.”

“Then, I like whatever you think I deserve, Mistress.”

“You think you deserve your cock in my mouth?”

“Ha,” the word sounded like a laugh, but in reality, was a sob. “Please.”

“Do you deserve it, Namjoon?”

He searched your face, unsure of the right answer, and unsure if he could keep his eyes from rolling back into his skull.

“Yes,” he finally announced, with much authority. You supposed since he wasn’t sure of the right answer, he figured he should at least answer with confidence.

“Why?”

He choked again as you dipped your fingers low and found that sweet spot behind his balls that made him melt like butter in your hands. The delicious rattle of the chains sounded again through the space as his limbs all shuddered and twitched.

“Because... I’ve been good.”

“You have,” you smiled. “You want your hands back?”

You knew he did. He loved to touch you when you were sucking him off. He loved fisting your hair, and you loved feeling his pleasure as pain on your scalp. He also loved to touch your hands which roamed the expanse of his torso, or fist the chair arms or pillows that encased him. He would definitely want his hands – but no matter what his answer was, he wasn’t going to get them.

“Yes, please.”

“Oops,” you patronized him, finding an opportunity to deny him. “You didn’t say ‘Mistress.’ I guess you don’t deserve your hands, baby.”

“Fuck, Y/N,” he whined – although you weren’t sure if it was from the pull of your wrist around his dick, or the denial of his needs that had him cursing you.

“Oh, baby… two strikes. Now, I don’t think you deserve my mouth at all.”

“Y/–”

“Careful, Joon,” you raised a finger to his lips. “Because the next thing to be taken away is my hands.”

His tongue jutted into his cheek as he bit down on it, frustration visibly whirling through him like a storm. This round he had not only lost his typical leadership, he had also lost the ability to say and ask for whatever the hell he wanted. He was trying to learn, but a part of you hoped he was a slow learner.

“Now,” you twisted firm on his shaft again, and he hissed. “Did you have something to say? Or are you going to let me rub your cock in peace.”

“I have nothing to say, Mistress.”

“Good.” You removed your hand from his pants, then pulled at the waistband, shuffling it over his hips, his thighs, until they couldn’t slide any further without tearing. Then, you stood in front of him and stuck out your palm below his face. “Spit.”

He wanted to smile, but you think he was holding it back from you in a silent rebellion. He worked his mouth, and then did as you said, spitting into your palm a quality amount of saliva. You brought your hand back to his cock and rubbed his shaft in his own fluid. Then, you resumed hand fucking him, your up and down motions now seamless and smooth. With his underwear discarded, you worked your other hand into the mix - tugging and massaging his balls, pressing his perineum like a button on a console.

You worked him expertly with all the tricks you knew, and it wasn’t long before Namjoon began to crumble like a sandcastle caught in a wave.

“Oh,” his body shivered, and his eyes fought to stay open and not squeeze painfully shut. His breaths were audible and spasmed in pitch with every single inhale and exhale. “Ugh,” he groaned louder into the space, and it was a pleasant accompaniment to the squelch of your wrist twisting over his wet dick. “Oh, fuck… ba… ugh…” he sobbed again. He wasn’t quite yet on the brink of coming, but he wasn’t far away. He was somewhere in the forest, lost and oblivious as he searched for the ledge. To his detriment, however, his haze also made him forgetful…

“Fuck, Y/N… make me come…”

You immediately released your grip on him and stood back, placing your hands on your hips and glaring at him with a glib expression. It took him a moment to realize what he had done, and when he did, his eyes widened in what you could only describe as fear.

“I’m sorry, Mistress,” he fumbled the words.

“Third strike. I warned you, Namjoon. My hands would be the next thing to go.”

“What are you gonna do then, babe?” his apology flared into a challenge. “Leave me up here?”

“Good idea. I think I will.” With that, you turned on your heels and walked away from him and around the corner. You chuckled quietly when you heard him call to you. You weren’t really planning on leaving him there, you were just going to get a needed supply - but he didn’t need to know that, and you didn’t need to rush.

You returned with the chair from his office, and his head tilted as you pulled it up just a few feet in front of him. You then stepped up to his left wrist and released the cuff. He looked stunned, and even more stunned when you didn’t release the rest of him. You returned to the chair and took a seat and watched him struggle to pull the pieces of your jigsaw together.

“What are you doing?” he asked, when curiosity got the best of him.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you showed him. You shuffled comfortably back in his chair and spread your legs wide for him to see your everything. You brought your hand to your breast, then let it draw slowly, and erotically down the middle of your body, until your fingers could slip under the band of your panties. You dug deep and drew a long, firm line along the length of your pussy, exhaling an exaggerated moan for Namjoon to watch and hear.

“Well, fuck,” he scoffed, forgetting how blue-balled and hanging you had left him only moments ago.

You pulled your fingers through your folds again, slickening them in your wetness, then brought the pads to your clit and began circling the bud with a warm-up pressure. Your free arm rested on the armrest of his chair, and you lifted a finger to your mouth so you could bite down on the knuckle. You let another moan escape you, and allowed your body to wriggle for Namjoon’s viewing pleasure.

“You look fucking good, Y/N,” he said with a throaty darkness. That’s when he made the move to touch himself - and that’s when you decided to impart the rules upon him.

“You have a choice,” you barked, and it made him freeze in his tracks. “If you touch yourself now, you better make it good, because that’s the only way I’ll be letting you come.”

His eyes flared and he craned his neck again as he tried to find your angle. “And if I don’t?” he asked.

“If you don’t, then I’ll fuck you with my mouth.” You decided to punctuate the ultimatum by pulling your fingers from between your legs, and popping two of them deep into your mouth, staring at him through your lashes as you sucked yourself off your fingers.

“Shit, just strap me back in, baby,” he conceded, lifting his free wrist back to the cuff it had previously been held by.”

“Nah-ah,” you shook your head, then shoved your hand down your panties again, letting your body twist to show him how good it felt. “This is how you earn it, baby.”

“I don’t know if I like this side of you. You’re cruel.”

You smiled villainously. “So, what’s your choice?”

He didn’t need a pause to decide, but he took one anyway - perhaps preparing himself mentally for the amount of restraint he’d have to muster to survive the next few minutes. “Proceed.”

“Good luck,” you winked, then you snuggled further back into the chair, and went to town.

He watched your every move and every reaction like you were one of his works of art. Every time you felt a heat rise and expand from your clit, it was like he could feel it too. When you sunk your fingers deep inside your chamber, his whole body twitched like it was his dick that was invading your insides and shifting your kidneys. He wanted to stroke himself so many times. His hand reached for his throbbing, dripping cock like it was owned by a phantom – like he couldn’t control it, or was even aware of it at all. Eventually, he wrapped it around the wooden arm behind him and clenched his fingers into the structure in an attempt to restrain his extremity without true restraint.

Your body tingled from deep within and outward to every part of you. You knew very well how to make yourself come, but you wanted to put on a show for him and stave off your orgasm long enough to make him foam at the mouth. But it was difficult under his sharp, haunting and heated gaze. You had never felt so desired or so needed before, and it was spinning your libido into a frenzy. Your head rolled back as you sighed a pleasurable and frustrated noise of your own, while you curled your knuckles against that hot spot embedded against your silky walls. Your wrist began to cramp, and your legs began to shake – but you were caught between wanting to break and wanting to explode. Your chest began to rise and fall with your rapid, shallow breaths as all the energy you had began to piece itself together to create your crescendo.

“You gonna come, Mistress?” Namjoon’s thick voice called to you. Your eyes sprung open, as if in shock - since you had momentarily forgotten he was in the room at all.

You rolled your head forward so you could meet his eyes. “I am.”

“Fuck, I wanna be the one who makes you come. I wanna feel it.”

“Ugh!” you keened as you remembered vividly how amazing it felt to come around him.

“Come over here, Y/N. Let me finish you off.”

“No,” you huffed, as your climax was beginning to take its hold.

“Let me touch myself, please, Mistress.”

“No,” you ordered even louder, and even through the blood pumping in your ears, you could feel a growl tremor through his chest. “Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck!”

“That’s it, baby,” he encouraged you. His voice also tremored, as if he was stroking his cock while he watched you. Truthfully, he could have been, but you couldn’t see him anymore to be sure. Your neck was stretched backward, and your eyes were squeezed shut. The muscles of your thighs and abs squeezed, as well as your wrist which snapped harshly in and out of you, the heel of your hand also roughly assaulting your pulsing clit.

“Oh… ah! Ah!” your lungs signaled the beginning of your fall, and less than a second later, you came. Your body simultaneously stretched and shrank as bands of electricity tightened and released your ligaments and tissue. Fire blasted through your every vein, licking every sensor your body had, and your pussy palpitated around your fingers while your hips rolled into your own palm. “Ah!” you called out again, as your orgasm reignited and shot a fresh wave of pleasure through you, causing your belly to quake violently, and your lungs to collapse in on themselves.

You were sure you could have pumped yourself into another wave of pleasure, but your wrist cramped tight and near immobilized. “Oh… shit…” you exhaled when you gave up, relaxing your limbs and running your fingers through your hair and off your face. You sucked on your lip as a satiated smile formed on your mouth.

Namjoon didn’t say anything, and your eyes were still closed, but even though you were still in the entrails of your orgasm, you could sense his sexual vexation through the air.

“How are you doing over there, babe?” you asked, a touch of wicked delight to your words.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” he gruffed, his words not touched but engulfed with annoyance. “You’re so fucking wet, I swear I can smell it.”

You looked down at yourself, partially expecting to see an obvious stain adorning your panties, but the black lace gave nothing away. He was being dramatic. But that was okay with you.

You closed your knees and tested the strength of your legs, before you stood up from the chair then made your way across the floor to stand in front of him. When you reached him, you gasped as he roughly grabbed your wrist with his free hand, and immediately brought your sticky fingers to his lips. He took them deep into his mouth as his tongue gluttonously cleansed your digits of your cum. His eyes were closed, like the flavor of you was something cooked up by a Michelin chef and was to be savored. When his pull had nothing left but the tips of your fingers in his lips, his eyes popped open to look hungrily and dangerously back at you. He hummed a sound that was satisfied, but also disappointed and starving for more.

“I’m gonna have more of that before we leave this gallery, Y/N. I promise.”

Your pussy pulsed. It wanted to be the one that was now nailed to the cross – but you still had a needy boyfriend to torture. You twisted your hand in his grip, taking a hold of his wrist and bringing it back to its rightful place in the handcuff. Then you returned to him and began licking and kissing your way down his neck and torso.

“Are you ready for your reward, Joon?” you asked when you were face-to-face with his belly button.

“Yes, Mistress,” he said assuredly. His confidence had obviously grown since he succeeded in not masturbating to the view of you masturbating.

You then kneeled before him, fisting his cock once more and pumping it rapidly a few times as you let saliva build in your mouth.

You first licked a long, hot line, from base to tip, up the prominent vein of his shaft. He whimpered a near painful sounding noise, one you hadn’t heard from him before. It was addicting to see him undone and helpless like this. You wanted to see how much you could extract from him before you let him come. You licked another line, and he rewarded you with another noise, this one coming from a place further in his chest. You blew a whistle of air over the path you had forged, and his hips shuddered at the sensation, causing another thud from his restraints around his waist.

You pumped him again with your wrist, just a few motions, then you looked up at him through your lashes, meeting his desperate and hard gaze, then let your tongue fall from your mouth – this time licking a wide circle around his tip.

“Fu… fuck…” he breathed.

You brushed your free hand up his thigh, then over his abs, spreading your fingers wide over his skin as you surrounded the tip of his cock with your lips. As expected, the chains clanged again in his unconscious attempt to reach for you. He swore again – this time it was completely dowsed in frustration.

Then, finally, after you had him properly quivering beneath your ministrations, you widened your mouth, and took him deep into your throat. His body jerked as you did, but you were pleasantly surprised by how restrictive the restraints were on his body. His hips wanted to thrust violently, but they couldn’t – no matter how much he wanted to or how much he tried. You had so much power right now, and it was intoxicating. You hollowed your cheeks, tightening around him, then you pulled slowly north – creating a vacuum that made a popping noise when you freed his dick from your mouth. You went in again, taking him further this time, and pulled again, this time not letting him go.

You then found your path, your rhythm, and began bobbing your head on and off his cock – finding more and more delicious sounds he could make in gratitude. You worked your hands into the mix – one massaging his balls while the other pumped in sync with your head.

“Fuck… Y/N… I…” he strangled himself on the air escaping his lungs. “Fuck… baby…”

You shifted your hands over his hips, then behind his ass, and pulled him closer, firmer, and deeper as you took him further into your throat. For some reason, he near collapsed from the feeling of being drawn into you like this. Perhaps he would have collapsed had he not been tethered to the cross. You felt a warning climax fire through his system as his everything vibrated like a strummed guitar string.

Then, his orgasm began to appear. You knew all the signs by heart. You knew by how he breathed, by how his speech slurred, and how his body quaked, and by the way his eyes rolled back that he was moments away from spilling into you. He was climbing, step by step by step until…

�� you pulled off of him just in the nick of time.

“Y/N!” he growled, truly angered by the loss of his climax. But then he immediately apologized – which you laughed at. You had sworn at him under the same circumstances time and time again. You were happy you had the chance to pay it back.

You stepped forward, his erection once again firm against your belly, and he seethed at the subtle touch which now felt like an uncomfortable tickle. You brought your fingers to his chest again, and traced patterns over his skin while you sucked tantalizingly on your lower lip and forced him to look you in the eye.

“Did I say you could come yet, Joon?” you derided.

This time, instead of looking like he wanted to kill something, he looked like he may have wanted to kill you.

“No, Mistress.”

“Would you like to come?” you asked him as your fingers began to trail lower down his body.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“And how would you like to come?”

He licked his lips, but this time he knew the answer. “In your throat.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, like the request was big, and required sacrifice. “And what would I get in return, for letting you come in my throat?”

“Hm,” he hummed. “You let me come, and I will fuck you until you’re blind.”

“Big words, sir.”

“Big words I can live by. Now are you gonna suck me off with that pretty mouth or what?”

You weren’t sure if in a role play like this if what he said was insolent. Were you supposed to reward him or punish him for asking for such a thing? Regardless… it didn’t matter. This was your sex life, your partner, your rules… and right now, the rules – and your quivering pussy – wanted to oblige his request. So, you did.

You gripped his cock and began warming him up for another climb. You leaned forward, and kissed your boyfriend in a sloppy, hot exchange of tongues and lips and teeth and need. Then you dropped to your knees again, popped his vibrating cock in your mouth, and held nothing back.

Within a minute, you had him right back where he was before you denied him. His eyes had disappeared into his skull, his body shook from head to toe, his hips tried desperately to thrust into you, even against their resistance, and his breaths entered and exited his body in loud cries to God and to you and to Fuck Almighty.

“I… I’m… fuck… fuck… I’m coming… ughhh!” his every word struggled to fall off his tongue. But his warning was well-timed. Upon his final call to the Heavens, you were met with the sensation of thick, hot cum dripping down your throat. You squeezed hard on his ass and pumped violently at his shaft to help him empty everything he had into you. His hips jerked again, and again, and more strangulated noises rumbled out of his chest and into the air, until finally there was nothing left he had to give.

You undid the straps around his ankles before you stood up from the floor. He didn’t seem to even notice, however. His eyes were still shut, his head leaned backwards, and his lungs still gasped for air. He was engulfed completely in his fucked-out comedown, and completely unaware of his mortal surroundings. You undid the strap at his waist, then you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled your foreheads together.

“How was that, baby?” you whispered in the space between you.

“Shit, Y/N. That was so intense.”

“Good intense?”

“Fantastic intense. I didn’t know you could be such a tease.”

“You never give me the chance, babe. But now you know that sometimes I should be the one in charge.”

“We’ll talk about it,” he chided. You rolled your eyes and smiled, then leaned in to kiss him. As you did, you reached up and blindly found the handcuffs around his wrist, and easily unclasped him. He shook the blood back into his arm before wrapping it around you, and you went to work releasing the other.

Soon enough, you found yourself again lip-locked and backed against the cross – only this time, you had no intention of flipping the roles. He crushed your body against the wood as his mouth worked its way down your neck. You held him tight in your arms, but he soon pulled your limbs off of him as his lips forged a path across your body.

He dampened the fabric over your nipple with his tongue, and the heat of his mouth felt scorching, and then was replaced by a chilliness when he abandoned it for the other. You tried to control your breathing, trying not to let him know that if he worked you just the right way, you might come just like this. When he was finished with the lace, he pulled at the cups to expose your nipples, which perked from your arousal and the cool air fanning over them. He took one nipple raw and bare in his mouth, nipping and licking the bud into an erotic and sensitive state, while he squished the other gently between his forefinger and thumb. He switched again to the other side, and you couldn’t hold back your moan this time as you melted into his touch.

“Easy, baby. We’re just getting started.”

“Shut up and keep going,” you demanded, but it only stopped him in his tracks. He pulled from your chest, and stood up, bracing his palms against the cross over your shoulders, and looming over you with a domineering presence that made you feel small.

“Y/N…” he graveled your name, like he was about to scold you.

“Yes?” you asked, showing him how much you liked his intimidating presence.

“You’re no longer the Mistress here. It’s my turn. So, do as you’re told, and play nice.”

“Yes, Sir.”

His mouth pulled into a crooked and devious smile. “Put your hands above your head.”

You did, but unlike how you did at home, in which you crossed your arms well above your head, this time, you angled them at a 45-degree curve, lining them up with the handcuffs to your sides.

“Good girl,” he winked, then went to work securing you to the cross.

Just like you had done to him, after he had your arms leashed, he resumed caressing your belly with his warm mouth. Only, he took his sweet, damn time. It was like he had to kiss and nip every single fucking inch of your skin, and then do it all over again. Soon enough, your hips of a will of their own, began waving themselves into him. He’d be playing with the spaces just above your panty-line, teasing you with the prospect of now wetting the fabric over your waiting and wanting bundle of nerves. That’s when you'd lose your motor controls, and your body would press forward into his face despite the resistance he held on your hips.

“Stop moving, Y/N,” he warned.

“Can’t help it,” you breathed.

That’s when he remembered the strap for your waist. He reached behind your body and found the opposing pieces. He wrapped them around your torso, fastening them tight around your body. The glint in his gaze as he did so implied that he liked it probably more than you did. Now you knew how he felt when it was him in this position. But even though you now knew, he was going to make sure you knew it better.

He returned to your lower belly, once again taking even more sweet-ass time to lick long, wide patterns across your skin, being sure to dip teasingly low, then irritatingly high. His lips formed an “o” shape, and he blew air soft across your skin, causing the damp patterns to cool and ignite the nerve endings of your flesh. Your abs vibrated erratically, caught in a contrast between his warm palms on your sides and the freezing sensation of his saliva. You watched as a smug and satisfied grin formed impishly across his face.

You wanted to beg him to move on and do more. The pleas were ready to spill out of you at any moment. But you held them back. You weren’t sure yet if begging was going to get you what you wanted or get you the opposite. But Namjoon wasn’t going to let you get away with complacent silence.

“What do you want, baby?” he looked up at you, his eyebrows raising in a siren's warning.

You swallowed as you thought about your answer, and what answer he wanted, and what answer was going to get you what you fucking needed.

“I want whatever you think I deserve, sir,” you kept your face stoic as you threw his own words back at him - except you threw them better. His eyes narrowed, and he licked his teeth in amusement while he searched and found the arrogance behind your politeness.

“You are a clever one, Y/N, I’ll give you that.”

“Maybe these are the notes you should’ve been taking… sir,” you again held back the smugness in your tone - but even though you did, it was still heard loud and clear.

He released one hand from your hip, letting his index finger draw across your belly, then down over your waistband, then down, in a long, slow feather-light line over your mound, your clit and your slit. Your legs quivered, wanting his touch to be more, but he kept it delicate to make you want just that.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said as he arrogantly looked up at you.

You rolled your lip in your teeth, then mentally shook yourself back into composure. You weren’t going to let him break you before he touched you for real.

“Now, Y/N, be a good girl and spread your legs.”

Dammit, he might break you with his words alone. You did as you were told, stepping left and right so your ankles lined up with the base legs of the cross. Namjoon strapped you in, again, he wasn’t rushed, and it dawned on you that nothing he was going to do to you was going to be quick. You might not make it out of this gallery before sunrise.

He kissed you just above the inside of your ankle cuff, his hand dusting softly on the outside of your limb, as he began to carve a languid path up the inner expanse of your calf. His palm smoothed firmly over your outer thigh when his mouth made it past your knee, holding you tight as his tongue and teeth nuzzled your skin. Your breaths became anticipatory and short, and sparkes misfired behind your navel as you felt the tip of his nose brush higher and higher on your flesh, and was followed by nips and licks and kisses. He was getting closer and closer to your junction with every lazy second he took. Right when he was a mere inch from your quivering pussy, he skipped over it and to your other limb, and took a harsh bite out of the flesh which joined your hip to your leg.

“Oh, fuck, Joon!” you called to him, rolling your eyes in exasperated disappointment.

“What was that?” he called from between the crevasse.

“Sir,” you gulped - remembering how you had punished him for his simple, mindless mistake. “Thank-you, Sir.”

“I don’t think that’s what you said, Y/N,” he pulled his face from you, glaring hard up at you as he once again encased your hips in his hands.

“It was,” you insisted, even though you knew it was futile. You both knew he had heard your slip, but perhaps he’d let you forgo your first strike.

You held your breath as you watched him release his tongue from his mouth, and leaned forward. You swear you could feel the heat of the muscle radiate against you before it even touched you, hotter with every passing millisecond that felt like a fucking millenia. He then licked you - hot, wide, firm and slow - over the length of your panties, starting from your entrance until he flattened himself over your clit.

It wasn’t enough - you needed to be bare, you needed him to be harsh - but he knew that. That’s why he licked you this way, and that’s why his eyes never left your face as he arrogantly teased you with that tongue of his that you loved and hated so much.

When it retracted back into his mouth, he continued to watch you fall apart, even if it was only in the tiniest of ways. Your hips tried to sneak forward into his mouth, which was less than a dime away from your clit, but you both knew that was a punishable move.

“Would you lie to me, Y/N?”

“Yes… I mean, no…” you fumbled your answer. The truth was you would tell a thousand lies to get him to eat you out right the fuck now.

"Who knew wanting your pussy licked would make you so immoral."

"I don't have morals when it comes to you, Sir."

"My clever girl," he grinned.

He tilted forward - this time encasing your guarded clit completely in his mouth. He pressed his tongue hard and hot against you, and your chamber squeezed at the feeling. He sucked you through the fabric, pulling the lace off your body, then releasing it so it snapped back in place. He engulfed you again, his everything heavier, and this time he let his teeth grab your panties - pulling them hard so the snap was even harder. A nonsensical cry escaped you - like the lace was now toxic to your body.

He then took the right string of your underwear in his fist. "I hope you're not fond of these, Y/N."

You were, but they were replaceable... this moment was not.

"Not in the least," you announced.

He pulled the band, and your panties tightened painfully and pleasingly through your folds, until an even more pleasing snap was heard, and the garment crumpled to the floor.

You pressed your lips together and swallowed as cool air rushed your wet skin.

You waited… and waited… and waited for something to happen. But it didn’t. You looked down to your boyfriend kneeling before you, only to find him smirking back up at you. You could see your throbbing mound inches before him, and those inches seemed like a design for torture. He just needed to move forward. You just needed to move forward. But he wasn’t and you couldn’t. Did he want you to beg him? You would. You absolutely would.

“Please, Sir,” your voice was weak – not from reluctance but from pure, primal need.

“What would you like, Y/N?”

“I want you to pleasure me.”

He kinked his neck, “Am I not pleasuring you enough?”

It was clear this question was a test.

“You are. But you are capable of so much more,” you said in a passive voice, stroking his ego just the way that was needed. His eyebrows twitched ever so slightly. He did like your answer, but he was still waiting for you to truly slip up so he could punish you, the way you had punished him. Unlike him – and also, unfortunately for him - you were willing to forgo all pride to get what you needed.

“I think you’re right,” he responded, and it sent a promising shiver down your spine.

His hand raised to cover your mound, and your body melted into his touch the best it could. It then dragged heavily southward, until he was able to spread his fingers and split your folds apart to expose your clit to the elements. His lips parted, and he began a slow ascent towards your pleasure, making sure that every millimeter closed built your anticipation by a mile.

“Ohhhh,” your body heaved as his mouth pressed around your clit, the chains at your wrists chiming loudly. The feeling was so fucking intense now that you were bare and raw and already sensitive to the nines. His jaw slackened, then tightened as he licked your length and consumed everything he could fit into his mouth. His tongue stroked you in wet, hard, long passes several times over. In a final pass, he let his nose lead the way, splitting your folds apart and foraging a path for the strong appendage to taste everything. He first nuzzled your clit with the tip of his nose, then he curled the tip of his tongue, and began rapidly flicking the nub with expert precision. Your knees wanted to close tight, you wanted to smother him between your thighs – being held this wide and prone made the pleasure feel as though it was too much. But of course, you couldn’t. You were now acutely aware of how restricted your limbs were – how the cuffs and the Velcro and the wood held you open and exposed, and captive and helpless to your partner’s divine will. All you could do was grit your teeth, or cry into the open gallery.

“Uh..huhhh…” you spit, and you felt a tease of an orgasm shine through you. He stopped his flicking, so it disappeared – but then, he brought his weapon low to your entrance, and dragged it high through your folds before he wrapped his lips around your swollen bud and began to suck. A new type of pleasure then coursed through your nether regions, one that made your spine want to bow and your hands want to shred apart the hair on his head. Your wrists snapped against their chains, and your torso fought against the wood – but you weren’t going anywhere. You had no choice but to take it all raw.

Namjoon’s hand smoothed over your thigh and hip until it came to rest over your stomach – and even though it didn’t wield much strength, it still felt like an anvil crushing you against the cross. He was reveling in how your body vibrated beneath his palms, and it seemed to inspire him to work even harder.

“Oh, oh, uh!” you whimpered as he buried his tongue far beneath your hood, and made a mess of your clit’s receptors. You looked down at him to see whatever the fuck he was doing to make you feel insane, but it was a bad idea. The image of him tongue fucking you with such fury and confidence, combined with the way he watched you like a predator stalking his prey (even though he was the one on his knees) was a scene that could have made you come alone. Within an instant, you felt the rapid rise of your orgasm, and within seconds you were gasping and moaning a warning to Namjoon.

The way you knew his, he too knew your body like the back of his hand. He knew the signs of when you were about to come without you needing to tell him – not that you could tell him if you wanted to. Most of the time it was a blessing, but this time it was a curse. Just before you peaked, just before you tripped into the world of untamed ecstasy, he too decided that you weren’t allowed to come, and he too pulled back and let you shiver and gasp your way down from your almost-climax.

“Oh my God!” you exclaimed, wishing you could haunch over or stretch to recover.

“Did I say you could come, Y/N?” you could hear his stupid grin as he threw your words back at you.

“No… Sir…” you panted.

“You’re really good at this sex obedience and formalities thing, Y/N,” he admonished.

“I’ve had practice,” you chided, although it wasn’t really a joke. You were used to being at his mercy. He wasn’t. He was probably starting to feel a little competitive.

“Be that as it may, it’s still not going to save you.”

“Do your worst, Sir,” you emphasized the honorific, just to brag a touch.

“I’m gonna eat you out ” he cleared his throat. “Only this time, I’m not going to stop when you’re about to come. You have to stop yourself.”

“What if I can’t, Sir?”

“Same rules. If you do, then I’m going to keep fucking you any way that I want, but I won't let you come again until sunrise.”

He really did take notes.

“How long do I need to hold out, Sir?”

“Until I say," he winked. "Ready?”

He didn’t give you a moment to respond – he dove tongue first right back in to you and you choked on your answer. He didn’t warm you up either, he went right back to where he left – flicking his tongue rapidly over your clit, sucking your lips in his mouth, eating away at your heat like he had been starving for weeks. You felt the desire to orgasm – he felt so hot and so good, you just knew you’d come hard all over his face – but you pushed that desire aside before you reveled in it too long and became lost. You focused on keeping your muscles relaxed, and convincing your brain that his ravenous assault didn’t feel as good as it actually did. But it did feel good. It felt fucking amazing… and the quicker you pushed that reality from your mind the quicker your body reminded you of it.

He would hit you right how you needed it, and launch you into a fountain of pleasure. You wanted to dive in head first, but then you’d remember the rules and panic about even testing the waters. Since at home you’d clench your fingers around a pillow or sheets or Namjoon’s skin for relief, this time your fingers had nothing to hold. You’d need a new tactic. Something as mental as arousal itself – and you’d find something, but then Namjoon would switch up his assault and you’d be right back at square one.

This assent, you landed on counting. While your body begged for release, you tried to calm it with simple numbers. One… two… ugh… three… fuck… three… no four..

You suddenly felt the hold on your right leg give as the cuff came undone. Before you could look down to see what had happened, Namjoon flung your knee over his shoulder, and hugged your thigh around his neck, suffocating himself in your junction. It was too much. You needed to come or you were going to go insane.

“Ohhh… baby… Oh, Joon, baby, fuck!” the words slipped from your tongue. He stopped, then looked up at you with a triumphant smile that was glossy in your juices. You lost – at least the battle of honorifics – and now he was gloating right in front of you and your vagina. At least there was a silver lining - now you might be able to capture another minute to stave off your climax and win the war. Apparently, however, you didn’t need to…

“You can come now, Baby girl,” he winked, then disappeared a final time into your hollow.

You were relieved, but your relief turned quickly into agony as your partner – who had reduced your sex into a sensational mess – was creating an even greater disaster. You felt like you couldn’t control your breathing or your screams, and your body shuddered and twisted uncontrollably as you rode his face to the peak.

“I… I…” you squeaked as warmth began to scald, and your fingers and toes tingled with numbness. He grumbled a noise into your folds - whatever it was he said, it rumbled through your system like a vibrator, and you knew it meant he wanted you to come in his mouth. Within moments, you did - stretching your head to the sky as your jaw slackened and you screamed into the abyss. You writhed against your restraints as Namjoon tongue-fucked you through your high - you would have crumpled into a pathetic pile on the ground had you not been securely strapped. Your legs quivered violently in between the moments when they weren’t strung tight by seizing muscles.

Your orgasm wasn’t long, but it was powerful enough that your ears rung well after you came back down to earth. You kept your eyes closed, and took in deep breaths of air deep into your body, reveling in how light it felt, like your bloodstream was fizzing with carbonated bubbles of air. As you took stock of everything you felt, you noted that the pressure between your legs hadn’t yet subsided. You felt a thick, strong muscle wielding its way through your pulsing center, and realized that Namjoon was still licking you. It was softer now, not manic like before, but he was licking you just the same, as if he hadn’t realized you had come. But, of course he knew. Hell, the corner store down the block probably knew you had come by the way you screamed.

He knew. He just didn’t care – he was going to make you come again.

He had given you multiple orgasms before… but not every attempt panned out. Sometimes you were just too sensitive, and despite how badly your heart and soul wanted to come again, sometimes your body just had other ideas. It’d writhe and twist and beg for distance, and he have to make a choice between giving you space to recover, or manhandling you roughly into a pretzel so that you couldn’t escape from his second onslaught. You kind of preferred the latter. But against the cross, it didn’t matter if you were or weren’t too sensitive - your body wasn’t going anywhere, and he seemed acutely aware of that fact.

You thought about that photo behind you that had turned you on so much. The woman bound to the cross with the wand at her clit, taking orgasm after orgasm no matter what her natural instinct was otherwise. Right now, Namjoon was your wand, and you were the vulnerable subject.

You winced, and inhaled a sharp breath of air as his tongue flicked hard against your bud and tested the waters. You were sensitive tonight, and the feeling of being touched so soon was uncomfortable - but also thrilling. You licked your lips, and took a deep breath as you tried to help the sensation by relaxing yourself.

You looked down at him, and this time when you saw him stuffed between your thighs, your mind wasn’t clouded by a haze of primordial ardor. There was something oddly romantic about how he looked up at you. The act didn’t look lewd, and he didn’t look like a depraved predator. He looked at you with soft but confident eyes that wanted to share this moment with you. He licked you tenderly like the gesture could communicate a meaningful promise between you.

He slipped his tongue soft and slow over your slit, which made the over sensitivities less intense. He was warming you up until he was ready to rough you up again.

"You okay, baby?" he asked you, and your heart fluttered. You couldn't help but swoon when he showed his concern for you.

"Yeah," you breathed and rewarded him with a smile.

"Good," he returned the smile, but it wasn't as soft as yours. He had a new plan.

He rose from the floor and stepped forward to take your jaw in his hands, tilting your chin upwards so he could devour your lips in a heated, passionate exchange.

You moaned into his mouth as you felt his fingers press harshly against your clit. Your over-sensitivity had subsided somewhat, but it was still there, and this time you weren't sure if you could power through it. It was possible when his tongue was moving cautiously over you, but his hands were too much.

“I don’t know if I can,” you croaked, genuine disappointment in your voice, but his fingers didn’t stop.

"Yes you can,” he gruffed. It wasn’t an encouragement – it was a command.

Shit! was all your mind could say. This was the point at which you realized how much you were at his mercy.

He circled your clit with two of his fingers, and you shuddered and sobbed right in front of his face, your eyes pleading with him to lessen his pressure and grant you relief. But his glare told you to just surrender - that there was nothing to stop him or cause him to deviate from his plan.

“Oh, God, baby,” you sputtered, even your breaths came out in whines.

“I like when you call me Sir.”

“Please, Namjoon,” you couldn’t comply – you needed to plead with him, not his role. “I can’t…” your voice trailed off as you gritted your teeth through an intense wave of discomfort.

His thumb dug into the space beneath your chin, immobilizing your head in an upward tilt. “Yes… you can, Y/N,” he said, this time with more poignance.

“Oh… my God…” you choked again, your body trying so hard to get away from him. Your lips parted, and his mouth parted along with them, aroused by the sight of what he was doing to you.

Your silent pleas acted only as his fuel, and his fingers rubbed even quicker around your nub. Your body ached and shivered like you had a flu, and it remained as such for at least a minute, maybe two. But then… by minute three, perhaps four, things began to… shift.

At first, it felt like you had become accustomed to the “pain.” Then it felt like maybe the nerves had been pleasured into numbness… then, a familiar and pleasing heat made a slow, but conscious return. It was starting to feel good again. Better than good. Different. You felt your cheeks begin to flush once more, and your blood begin to pump fluidly through you.

Namjoon seemed to notice this, so he took a moment to relax his wrist – loosening his fingers, he let them drop low to tease over your entrance, and slid high through your wetness in several passes. Your body soon began to subtly rise and fall and wave with his pets, needing to rock against his motions – but still, you weren’t able to move too far, and it was incredibly frustrating in all the right ways.

Then, you felt the tips of his fingers breach your folds, and you sucked in air as he sunk two fingers deep inside you.

He rubbed your chamber just a few times - nothing too rough or two deliberate - just enough to soak his fingers in your arousal, which he then withdrew from you, brought to his lips and then popped into his mouth. He told you he was going to taste you again, and even though you were still all over his face from when his face had been between your legs, it seemed he hadn’t quite had his fill.

When he was done, he released your chin, and his hand dropped behind the knee of your unbound leg. He heaved your limb high to hitch over his hip, and he took a half-step forward to brace it against the cross and spread you as wide as the ocean. He returned his fingers to your core and sunk them into you once more. You felt his knuckles curl inside you, and your spine wanted to curl with them, but all you could do was curl your neck backwards as pleasure ricocheted through you. He pulled out a measure, twisting his fingers through your chamber, before he slammed them back into you and clamped them around your ridge. The third time, he shoved his digits into you as deep as he could and flapped them madly against your silky walls, causing your lungs to seemingly flutter in tune with their movements. His knuckles curled tight again, and again, and he started pumping in and out of you over and over, until a violent and delicious rhythm was found – one that touched you everywhere you needed to be touched. The heel of his hand pressed firm against your clit, and it felt lewd and abrasive as it thumped against you with every twist and pull on your insides. Sparks swirled and fired and misfired in the space behind your pelvis, and your fingers clenched tight into your palms, wishing they had the skin of his back to claw in to. He twisted his wrist, finding a way to replace the heel of his hand with his thumb so he could play more dextrously with your clit while he still fucked you with his fingers.

“Oh, shit, baby!” you groaned, your eyes becoming heavy and wanting to slam shut.

He stepped even closer to you, letting his mouth hover millimeters away from yours – like he wanted to kiss you. But there was no way you could kiss him now – all he could get from your mouth was the taste of your moans and cries. But that seemed to also be fuel for him, and his extremity between your legs and in your gut began to move stronger and faster, like his wrist and hand was bionic.

"Eyes on me," he ordered, and you sobbed as you tried to comply.

Since this was your second… actually, third… orgasm of the night, the coil behind your navel took much longer to tighten. The build would be steady, then vanish for moments, only to return twice as strong. But it was there, in your line of sight, preparing itself to sear and snap and disintegrate your organs into a pile of mush. It was… so much better. You had time to revel in every step and microgasm without threat of coming too soon and ending your sexcapades before you wanted. But soon enough it was there, staring you down and just waiting for the right moment to strike.

“I’m gonna come,” you warned Namjoon.

“I said you could, baby. You’re such a good girl.”

“Fuck… right there,” you prompted him when he found that sweet spot inside you which was sure to get you across the finish line.

“Right here?” he asked, as he pressed the pads of his fingers harshly against the button.

“Yesss,” you whimpered.

“You gonna come?”

“Yes!” you cried again, your face contorting like the question was the stupidest thing you’d ever heard.

He began rapidly pressing the spot - like it was a button on the console of a video game he was playing. Once again, your wrists pulled at their chains, and your torso coughed and heaved as waves of mounting pleasure stacked on top of each other, readying to explode. Namjoon bit his lip, looking arrogantly down at you as he took in every shift of agony and desire your face gave.

“Is this pretty pussy gonna make a big mess?”

As it turned out, his filthy mouth was just the thing that orgasm number three was waiting for. Your mind and body released all at once, and with an “Oh! Shit!” and a “Fuck!” your entire being constricted in on itself, then exploded outwards. The noises that escaped you were barbaric and primal as all the wind you had in your lungs grated against your vocal cords as it exited your chest. You felt your arousal rush out of you, and slicken his wrist which now squelched as it pumped you full of ecstasy. It just kept going, and going and going on - like this climax would never stop and was trying to put every orgasm you ever had to shame. Right when you thought the wave was over and you’d be able to take a real breath of air again, another wave would hit you, and your toes would curl and your muscles would tremor while you squeaked out another cry that would echo off the walls of the gallery.

You orgasm probably could have kept going had Namjoon kept his pace, but as time passed, his strokes moved slower and slower, and the waves would grow smaller and smaller as he returned you to solid ground. But… you quickly discovered that he had no intention of letting you down completely. Before you even noticed what had happened, he released his hold on your pussy, sprung his cock free from his boxers, and positioned his tip to your entrance.

He curved his elbow under your knee and gripped the cross behind you. Then, in one fluid, slick motion, his tip breezed past your folds, and you felt his thick, hot dick sink into your chamber and burn your insides as they stretched inch by inch to accommodate it.

This time, you didn’t have any instinct to plead with him for a break, or to tell him that you couldn’t. This time, you weren’t sprung with the sensations of being too sensitive. This time, it felt fucking incredible. The kind of incredible that would have you holding him tight against you and sinking your teeth into his shoulder.

He pressed onward against all resistance he met, and was soon bottomed out and balls deep inside you while your walls rippled delightfully around his invasion.

“Oh, fuck, Y/N,” he gruffed, overwhelmed by how good it felt to be inside you. He released the hold he had on his shaft, and reached over your shoulder to clutch onto the cross near your cuffed wrist. You could now feel his skin on yours as your pelvises and stomachs pressed firmly together, and your nipples tickled his chest every time you breathed. “Fuck, I just love being inside you. You’re so fucking wet right now.”

His hips rolled smoothly, pulling out a measure, and then stuffing it back into you, while his pelvis grinded deliciously into yours. It was languid and sensual as he rocked and waved himself against you, his thickness filling you so tightly that you felt as if you could map out every vein and valley of his cock.

He rolled again and again, not rushing to fuck you senseless, even though it was clear his aura was primed and desperate to do just that. You wanted so much more… you wanted to feel all his weight on top of you, crushing your body into the surface at your back; you wanted more of his skin, damp and smooth as it brushed against yours when he thrusted into you; you wanted to hear his grunts and the erotic sound of your bodies colliding. You wanted him close. You wanted to hold him so badly that the cross was now truly feeling like a device made for torture and crucifixtion.

“Let me go. I want my hands.”

He rocked hard into you, pulling a gasp from your throat. “You can have them back when we get home.”

You groaned - would you even be able to walk by the time you were ready to go home? “Please, Sir,” you edged him on - but it didn’t work.

“Not right now.”

“Then fuck me right now,” your voice rose in a sharp and lethal demand.

“Careful, baby. I’m still the one who calls the shots.”

“Please,” your commanding voice morphed quickly into a plea. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

“Are you okay?” he froze, his brows furrowing in concern.

“Yes,” you responded quickly to dispel any confusion. “But I’ve been standing on one foot for a while - it’s starting to cramp.”

His eyes trailed downward to your ankle still cuffed to the cross.

“We can fix that easily,” he smirked. He slipped out of you and released your limb which he had strung high over his arm. He then knelt to the floor, and released your other foot from its tether. You shook out both your legs, and he let you - just not for long. This time, he hitched your newly freed limb over his hip and guided his cock back to where it belonged. You thought he was going to fuck you like this, but when he was positioned deep inside you again, he reached for your other knee, and in an impressive feat of strength, he hoisted you completely off the ground and onto his hips, holding you prone and dangling against the cross.

His cock, which had felt thick and sweet when he first entered you, now felt as long as a sword and as hard as a diamond. You swore that in this position you could feel him piercing your lungs. He bounced you once on his hips to get you just where he wanted you, and you hiccuped a pitched noise as the shift impaled you even deeper on his rod. Satisfied, he began to thrust - long, firm, practiced strokes that made a lewd, muddy squelch as he entered and exited your body. Your mouth fell agape from the pressure sensitive feelings of being hollowed and filled over and over again. His pace climbed noticeably every minute or so, and both your breaths and tiny pants kept on beat with his hips. Soon enough, your body was slipping up and down along the cross with every waving thrust he made. His tempo continued to rise, and as it did, your moans and whines also raised in key.

“Joon…” you called to him, although you didn’t have anything to say.

“It feels so fucking good,” he answered you anyway. “It’s like this pussy was made just for me.”

“I love how you fuck me,” you encouraged him. “God, you feel so good inside me. I love how you fuck me.”

His face dropped forward, and he caught your lips with his. His motions were put on pause as he nearly folded you in half just so he could kiss you. And once again, even though you hung precariously and indecently in the air, everything about the moment felt romantic.

Namjoon’s arm workout was starting to get to him, so he return one of your legs to the floor and he nestled in close to you. Once again bracing his hand on the cross, he began rocking his body into yours, letting his weight press against you and letting his pelvis create constant friction on your clit. While Namjoon was buried in your neck, your eyes caught a moving flash of something in the corner. You naturally looked in its direction through your hazy, sexy drunk glare and realized it was just the display glass of a nearby display. You could see yourself in it. In fact, you could see Namjoon in it too - or at least, you could see his bare muscles and ass constrict and expand while he fucked you. God, you wished it was a full on mirror and not just a faint reflection - but regardless, it was still clear enough to be hot. With only a few moments passing between you and the case, you were aroused enough to once again call your orgasm out of hiding.

“Whatcha looking at?” he asked when he noticed your gaze was locked on something he couldn’t see.

“I can see our reflection.”

“Oh yeah?” his voice became thicker and denser at the revelation. “How do we look?”

“Really fucking hot.”

“Mm, baby, I’m jealous. You get to see how good you look when I make you come.”

You couldn’t help but smile and blush, even amidst everything. You turned your face to kiss him, and he received it graciously.

“I love you,” he panted when he pulled back.

“I love you,” you echoed him, your heart now swelling as large as your lust.

He reached down once more and grabbed your knee, hoisting you a final time back onto his hips. He shuffled himself between your legs, and repositioned you over his cock, then in one hard pop of his hips, he impaled you on his staff so deep and sharp you swore this time you could taste him in your throat. He thrusted again - and again, all the air in your lungs escaped. Then again and again he fucked up and into you, and you bounced on and off his dick at a near inhuman pace.

The wide open and ceilingless gallery now sounded like an amphitheater as the vulgar sounds of your wet, skin clapping together echoed off every corner in the space, and mingled with the crude noises of his growls and your cries. Even the cross began to creak beneath you as it too shifted with every impact of his hips meeting yours.

You tried to watch Namjoon as best as you could, but the sensation of being pounded so rough and fast made it difficult to focus on anything. Your eyes would squeeze shut, or your head would roll back, or even thrash from side to side as you powered through the carnal pleasures. Namjoon was struggling too… as much as he got off on watching you go crazy beneath him, he also couldn’t keep his eyes open for too long. He was fucked out and fighting for survival. His chest dripped with sweat, and his muscles all strained and throbbed as veins coiled around them. His groans which had been deep and guttural now came from high in his throat as he fought off his orgasm until he could make you come first.

He didn’t need to wait much longer. The friction and power against you and inside you, the image of his muscles reflected back to you as they fucked you into oblivion, the sounds your boyfriend made, the sounds of sex, the smell of sex in the air swirling around you, and yes, the teasing restraints on your wrists… all served up the perfect storm to bring you to nirvana for the fourth God Damn time tonight - and when it did hit you, it hit you hard, and fast.

Out of nowhere, your body lurched against Namjoon’s hips and your whole system was shocked with several thousand megawatts of electricity. You heard Namjoon’s near painful cry as you clamped down hard on his dick. You seemed to have only one sound you could make this time, which was a rapid succession of throaty, high-pitched “Oh’s” which could have had you mistaken for a velociraptor.

Namjoon came almost immediately with you - either because he had been staving off his own climax for so long, or because your walls fluttering erratically around his cock launched him off the cliff. Whatever it was, he painted your insides completely with hot, white coats of cum with every one of his shambolic final thrusts.

When his mind returned to his body, and he became aware of his surroundings again, he wasted no time in unstrapping you from the cross. You pretty much collapsed into his arms and your feet felt unsteady and weak, and your arms were numb and desperate for blood to be returned to them. As promised, he had also fucked you blind. He held you close, tucking you tight into his body, then spent the next few minutes kissing you gently.

“How was that, baby?” he asked.

“I think we should definitely get a dungeon now.”

He chuckled, “Or at least a cross. We’ll just tell your mother it’s one of my ‘weird’ art installations.”

“Yeah, okay,” you laughed. “Ready to go home?” You figured you should make a run for it now that you had all your motor functions back. You felt spent, like you needed to sleep for days - you didn’t need to get anymore ideas from this gallery tonight.

“Yeah. Let’s get out of here,” he agreed, kissing you once more before you both went searching for your discarded and destroyed clothing.

⁂

The next morning… well... somewhere in the early afternoon, you woke up to the bright, summer light pouring in through the blinds and into Namjoon’s room. He was still asleep beside you, snoring softly.

You pulled yourself out of bed, wincing slightly at the pain between your legs - an echo of the all night hard and rough fuckfest that surprisingly didn’t end once you got home from the gallery. You pulled on a pair of spandex shorts and one of Namjoon’s old Nirvana shirts, which early on in your relationship had become your nightgown. Then you padded your way into the kitchen to brew a fresh pot of coffee.

You grabbed the local homebuyers magazine that arrived at your door that morning, and took it, a notepad, your phone, your coffee, and a plate of fruit, toast and reheated bacon to Namjoon’s balcony. You sat down and began to flip through the magazine prospects. Today, you had a renewed sense of determination to find yourselves a home… well… a farm. You started by generally researching how much it would cost to renovate a barn, then flipped to instead calculating how much you could realistically spend on renovating a barn. New potential began to swirl in your mind as you explored the minimal number of farms available for sale. Perhaps you wouldn’t need a house full of extra rooms. Most of the farms had a number of smaller sheds. If you did it right, you could have a whole separate space to run and store your business supplies. And if you daydreamed big enough, you could even have a place to house… something else.

It wasn’t long until the sound of the patio door sliding open broke you from your research, and Namjoon appeared with his own coffee in hand, and a mussed up mop of hair on his head. He blinked into the bright light as he made his way into the chair next to you, but not before greeting you with a good morning peck.

As per his usual wake up process, he didn’t speak much while he worked his way through half his morning coffee. You kept yourself trained on your task, writing and typing and researching away, becoming increasingly more excited as the pieces seemed to finally be coming together.

“So,” Namjoon’s voice croaked with sleep as he stretched himself the rest of the way awake. “I think you were onto something last night.”

You scoffed a laugh. You weren’t sure exactly what you were on last night that he was referring to, but your mind crept immediately to the less PG things you had been on.

“And what is that?” you asked.

“The part about adding a sex room to our list of needs. I think it’s a need at this point.”

You smiled bright and proud, biting your lip as your mind flashed through all the erotic moments that had happened within the past twelve hours. “Well, then, you’re going to love my farm idea.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mm-hm,” you nodded. You turned, pulled your chair up to him, flipped open your notes and proceeded to tell him everything you had researched and budgeted that morning. He was impressed overall, especially since you could both have out-of-the-house spaces for your businesses. He, and you, liked the idea of keeping work somewhat separated from the rest of your life.

“So, which one of these shacks is gonna be the love shack?” he chided once you two narrowed down the list to two locations you wanted to see right away.

You chuckled, “I love your enthusiasm, but babe, we might have to put that on the back burner and start with the things that are actually going to bring us money.”

“We can still get a cross though, right?”

“Ha! Yeah, okay," you rolled your eyes. "How much does one of those things cost?”

“I don’t know. Would it be weird to ask Pasque to just make us one?”

“She’s your client, not mine,” you shrugged.

Just then, you heard the clear voices of a group of visitors to the building walking down the path towards the parking lot. You both hushed your sex talk, and your head turned naturally in their direction, trying to peer at them through the leaves of ivy hanging around the privacy screen.

But instead of seeing them, you saw something else. It was that something that had been bothering you since last night - since you first crossed the threshold into the miniature sex museum and laid eyes upon the Cross. Then, there had been something familiar about the piece that you couldn’t quite capture. Today, as you looked at the structure strung with greenery and decorated with solar lanterns, you captured it.

“Joon,” you called to your boyfriend, doing your best to not sound too alarmed.

“Yeah?”

“Who was it that gave you this privacy screen?”

He didn’t say anything at first - the question seemed so out of the blue, it obviously stumped him.

“Umm… Pasque did.”

You exhaled an amused breath. Then pointed towards the giant X which was nearly unrecognizable under the dense cover of foliage. “I don’t think we need to ask her to build us a cross, babe, I think she already gave you one.”

He followed where you were pointing, and his gaze fell upon the X.

It was… identical.

Well… nearly identical. Her’s was in a private gallery surrounded by art. His was on an outside patio, covered in greenery and lamps.

“I…” he stammered. “Umm… she… uh-oh…”

“You know, this was supposed to protect us from your neighbors, not signal our sex life to them?”

“I… didn’t realize… oh my God…” his mouth fell open.

You covered your lips with your hand to stifle a laugh, but it didn’t do much good. You fell into an uncontrollable fit, and Namjoon followed suit.

“You might’ve been onto something else, Y/N,” he finally managed to squeak out amidst your belly-hurting laughter. “We should sell my condo first.”

Final Story in Series Coming Soon!

[disparate-gallery]

EXPOSITION DU 15 NOVEMBRE AU 21 DÉCEMBRE 2024 VERNISSAGE LE 14 NOVEMBRE À PARTIR DE 18H en présence de Félix Ollier À la librairie DISPARATE 99 rue de Bègles, 33800 Bordeaux Fondées en 2016 par Félix Ollier, les éditions comète puisent leurs ressources dans le graffiti et les cultures alternatives. Elles se spécialisent dans la conception de livres d’artistes et de tirages d’art en étroite collaboration entre créateurs et imprimeurs.

Dans un but de sauvegarde et de diffusion, les éditions comète mettent au jour des travaux expérimentaux et qualitatifs. Au service de l’artiste, la rencontre avec l’imprimeur permet une recherche, un accompagnement et une mise à disposition de moyens techniques. Elle ouvre un dialogue artiste/artisan vers la conception d’objets singuliers. Les éditions comète occupent aujourd'hui un atelier créé sur mesure pour son activité de sérigraphie en Saône-et-Loire.

Les éditions comète editionscomete.com @editionscomete Dans le cadre du PRINT SHOW - Festival des arts imprimés @printshowfestival Projet porté par L’INSOLEUSE - Atelier de sérigraphie artisanale @linsoleuse

[wolfliving]

Ex-Designer Project Bar in Barcelona

via e-flux

Martí Guixé’s Ex-Designer Project Bar, an exceptional project that turns a digitally designed interior, produced entirely using full-size 3D printing techniques into a standalone object, will be on display at the Disseny Hub Barcelona (DHub) from May 23 to August 25. 

The project was born in November 2015, when Martí Guixé, one of Barcelona’s most internationally influential 21st century designers, set out to design and 3D-print, independently and without help, all the components of a bar on Barcelona’s C/ Entença in collaboration with architect Pau Badia. The bar, an empty commercial unit with minimal structure, was gradually redesigned and built over a period of almost five years, using three on-site printers while still in operation. Thus, all the bar’s components were gradually printed: everything from the tiles on the walls and the furniture down to the smallest utensils, such as glasses of different types, plates and cutlery. 

According to Martí Guixé, the process itself is what matters, so the project became something performative, incorporating coincidence in a natural way.

The use of the establishment as a bar—where concerts, presentations, talks and other events were also held—was just as important as its role as a laboratory for experimenting on the possibilities of additive printing, and the utopia of digital autonomy. The project explores the true potential of digital fabrication technologies to achieve the dream of self-sufficiency for local production, without having to rely on large global manufacturing systems. 

Just as the bar was finished, with the grand opening scheduled for February 2020, the pandemic and subsequent lockdown forced it to close. It then underwent a process of “deconstruction”, which was carried out behind closed doors and in an orderly manner, like a work of archaeology, in order to preserve it in full. The Ex-Designer Project Bar thus ceased to be a bar or a work of interior design to become a standalone “object” adapted for other possible uses.

Martí Guixé’s Ex-Designer Bar is a reflection on the potential for democratising industrial production and the industrial process: “The use of 3D technology makes artisans redundant and unifies materials. The world is made up of ideas, not of people’s energy”. He also said that “bringing the Ex-Designer Bar to a museum turns it into an object, a ruin and an archaeological site of the future”.

The first full-size reconstruction of the bar With Ex-Designer Project Bar, the DHub is exhibiting this monumental object in its original format, after assembling the walls and other various components: A total of 30 wooden panels measuring 122 cm x 150 cm, plus over six thousand 14 cm x 14 cm tiles. The result is an installation that measures 8.75 x 3.56 m and is 5.02 m high, whose component parts have been 3D-printed in full size using polylactic acid (PLA), a biodegradable polymer made from 100% renewable resources, such as corn or plant starch. 

The interior walls include the front of the bar, which features figurative motifs from other projects by Martí Guixé, the side bars with experiments with bas-reliefs and pseudo-geometric figures in various sizes and thicknesses, and unsuccessful attempts to create a series of bag and coat hooks. There is also a notice board with backlit tiles for posting information about events and food and drink prices, as well as a front panel in which the main figure represents Artificial Intelligence, a representation of all the 3D printers used, including the one for printing food. 

[divya-quapri]

Raised Foil Visiting Cards – Premium Quality with Gold and Silver Foil

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Elevate your professional image with our Raised Foil Visiting Cards. Designed for those who seek a blend of sophistication and luxury, these cards feature stunning gold foil and silver foil stamping that creates a tactile and visual impact. Whether you’re searching for golden visiting card designs or silver foil visiting cards, our collection ensures you make a memorable impression.

[casavanihomes]

#casavanihomes

✨Make your floors fabulous with our vibrant cotton rugs.✨   Embrace elegance with this green hand block printed cotton area rug. This rug is designed by the rural artisans. This rug combines the perfect blend of softness, durability, and style. The vibrant green hue adds a refreshing pop of color to any room, creating a serene and inviting atmosphere.

📌MATERIAL: Pure and Fine cotton is used to make it durable and soft so that it can be used anywhere you desire to place it, whether it's your office floor, living room or lawn area. Provides a soft, cozy feel underfoot.

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See the full rug on our store and visit our website to explore more options and share your desired colors or size choices with us for customization.

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[connectparanormal]

Creating and Using a Ghost Scrapbook

Making and using a scrapbook with a ghost theme can be a fun and imaginative method to explore a fascination with the paranormal while keeping memories and artistic expressions. This kind of scrapbook creates a one-of-a-kind memento that may be treasured for years by fusing the personal touch of handcrafted design with the creepy fascination of ghost stories. Creating such a scrapbook requires a combination of storytelling, artistic ability, and a dash of creative flair. Planning the scrapbook is a crucial first step. Think about the general idea and tone you wish to portray. Will it be more whimsical and lighthearted, or will it be eerie and chilling? Collect supplies that will work for your idea, like old paper, old photos, and spectral accents like stencils, stamps, and stickers. Online marketplaces, artisan stores, and antique shops are great ways to find these things. The physical satisfaction of choosing and working with these materials enhances the creative process.

After obtaining your supplies, consider your scrapbook's layout. Choose which stories or recollections to include, as well as the page order. An option is to start with a title page that establishes the mood, perhaps with an image of a haunted house or a ghostly person. Then, each page that follows can concentrate on a different facet of your theme, such as well-known ghost stories, first-hand accounts of paranormal activity, or even original fiction. The secret is to tell a compelling story that flows from start to finish. Consider the layout of each page when you begin assembling your scrapbook. A page must have the right amount of balance; too few items might make it appear sparse, and too many can make it feel cluttered. To add depth and intrigue, use textures and backdrop papers. Layering is a powerful technique that allows you to create a three-dimensional impression by layering tiny photos or embellishments on top of larger ones. Using this method will make your spectral scenes come to life, increasing their visual appeal and level of engagement. Personal touches are what really set a ghost-themed scrapbook apart. Include handwritten notes or printed text if your family has any ghost encounter stories. You can add a personal touch by including images of haunted places, whether they are well-known landmarks or lesser-known locales. Draw or paint spectral forms using your own artistic abilities, or use magazine cutouts to make collages. In addition to adding richness, these personal touches enable the scrapbook to represent your individual viewpoint on the paranormal. Making a scrapbook with a ghost theme can be as much fun as using it. Present it to your loved ones, particularly during Halloween or during gatherings where ghost stories often take place. It can arouse memories and initiate conversations about the paranormal, acting as a conversation starter. The scrapbook is a goldmine of ideas and visuals that can serve as inspiration for writing or artistic endeavors. Placing it on a coffee table or bookshelf allows guests to easily access and enjoy it, while also adding a touch of eerie charm to your home design.

A scrapbook with a ghost theme might also be a work in progress. When you experience new things or gain more knowledge about ghost stories, you can add more pages. This enables you to revisit and re-engage with your creative process throughout time, and it also maintains the scrapbook active and current. It can also be an amazing way to record visits to haunted houses or paranormal activities like ghost tours, turning it into a living journal of your paranormal adventures. In summary, creating and utilizing a scrapbook with a ghost theme is a fulfilling project that integrates narrative, creativity, and self-expression. It allows you to create a stunning and distinctive artifact while delving into the intriguing world of the paranormal. Whether shared with others or preserved as a private memento, a scrapbook like this can bring happiness, motivation, and a hint of spectral charm.

[therefpoint]

• Maison Margiela Artisanal Collection 2024 by John Galliano, Look 15.

• Maison Margiela Spring Ready-to-Wear Collection 1996 by Martin Margiela, Look 58.

Martin Margiela being the innovator and experimentalist of fashion continued to push the boundaries of designing and garment making when in his Spring/Summer 1996 collection he introduced a technique of visual art called troupe l’oeil, translated as trick of the eye, by screen printing photos of vintage garments onto new ones to create the illusion of texture.

In the Maison Margiela Artisanal Collection 2024, John Galliano references back to the fashion house’s archive in the design of this skirt with a similar approach by part over-printing on a fitted long skirt and then adding his Galliano artistic touch by embroidering with bugle beads to create the effect reminiscent of how the moon light hits the Seine river at night. On the Maison Margiela S/S 1996 runway, models came out topless covering their chest with their arms and hands and we can see the models on the 2024 runway imitating this movement in their pose with the cardigans throughout the show.

Galliano wanted the models to appear like they’ve just left the clubs of Paris and are walking home in the rain of the seedy Parisian night streets inspired by the works of Hungarian-French photographer Brassaï.

Follow and keep your notifications on for more posts on this current Margiela collection and other runway, art, film and media references!

Sources:

Maison Margiela 2024 Collection Look 15 image: https://www.numero.com/en/fashion-week/pourquoi-le-defile-maison-margiela-artisanal-est-il-spectaculaire#slide255116

Maison Margiela Spring/Summer 1996 Collection Look 58 image: https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/spring-1996-ready-to-wear/maison-martin-margiela/slideshow/collection#1

[kvrinas1]

@xicojvn

Dejunnie~ I'll leave this short and sweet since I wrote plenty on the letter but, happy wedding anniversary, baby! This last year getting to call myself your wife has been the most fun year I've ever had. I can't wait to see what forever holds in store for us, my love, and I'm so happy I get be your partner in life, love and everything in between. You are the best thing that's ever happened to me~ On top of all the gifts lay an envelope that says Dear Husband..

A paper print of our first dance song's lyrics.

A paper bouquet of both of our vows!

A custom pull out photo album of all of the adventures we've gotten to go on together over the last year and some of our wedding photo's included!

A cheeky little dice set for date nights and that goes with the next gift~

The most special candle I could get~

Next, a double breasted blazer and matching pants from YSL.

Along with the DORIAN JODHPUR IN SMOOTH LEATHER boot.

the L.U.C XP URUSHI YEAR OF THE DRAGON watch from Chopard. Greatly inspired by Chinese traditions, Chopard’s L.U.C XP Urushi Year of the Dragon boasts a 39.5 mm ethical 18k rose gold case, while the in-house L.U.C 96.17-L caliber with micro-rotor ensures a slender profile of just 6.80mm can be maintained. It is a fusion of both technical savoir-faire and artistic flair delivered by Chopard Manufacture. Its dial is a piece of art, skilfully decorated with Urushi lacquer, gold powder and mother-of-pearl inlays. And for the twelfth year running in the Chopard Urushi story, the dial has been hand crafted in Japan by a world-renowned artisan specialising in the Maki-e technique.

Next, the MetaQuest, Oculus 3 VR gaming set.

And the LG CineBeam portable projector for all the movie nights we can have in the backyard together.

Finally, this is for you take off of me later~

[fabdivinedecor]

Discover the Timeless Beauty of Block Print Pillow Covers

Are you ready to add a touch of artistic elegance to your home decor? Dive into the enchanting world of block print pillow covers and elevate your space with timeless beauty and intricate designs.

Each block print pillow cover is a masterpiece crafted by skilled artisans, showcasing traditional techniques passed down through generations. The process involves hand-carved wooden blocks dipped in natural dyes, creating stunning patterns that reflect cultural heritage and artistic flair.

From mesmerizing floral motifs to geometric wonders, our collection of block print pillow covers offers a diverse range of designs to suit every style and mood. Whether you prefer vibrant colors that pop or subtle tones that soothe, there's a perfect match waiting for you.

But it's not just about aesthetics; block print pillow covers also tell a story of craftsmanship, sustainability, and authenticity. By choosing these artisanal pieces, you contribute to preserving traditional art forms and supporting local communities.

So, why settle for ordinary when you can embrace the extraordinary? Explore our block print pillow covers today and add a touch of artistry and charm to your living spaces. #BlockPrint

#ArtisanCraftsmanship #HomeDecor #TimelessBeauty

[artsofrajasthanindia]

Handmade cotton dhurrie and block print rug collection! These rugs are crafted by skilled artisans from Jaipur, Rajasthan, using traditional techniques and natural dyes. They feature beautiful patterns and designs inspired by the rich culture and heritage of India. Whether you want to brighten up your living room, bedroom, or hallway, these rugs will add warmth and charm to any space. Shop now and get free shipping in selected countries!