#apprentice vissenta

[apprenticevida]

Happy Birthday @ouiserthemenace

I don’t think I’d have joined the Arcana fandom to this extent without your art and influence!

I hope you enjoy this piece of Vissenta in the baths, looking over her wife’s domain

[viktors-fckass-bob]

And it's Just Like the Ocean Under the Moon

Smooth by Santana feat. Rob Thomas

Hey this is the companion piece to @apprentice-vissenta fic they did the other day. Thanks for the inspo hon!

Though his career as a military man was brief, it imparted in him a need for routine. Thus Andrico’s Saturdays usually went the same way: he would wake up with the sun, get ready for his day, check on his garden. Then he would head out to Madame Ristogi’s stall to see what new soaps, lotions, or fragrances she had in stock. Afterwards he would stop at Selasi’s shop to put in his order before shopping for whatever he needed/wanted (that week he had his eyes on some silk ropes at Chi Chi’s specialty shop). He would finish out his morning by picking up his order from Selasi and then head home to laze his day away. All in all, uneventful.

That is, until he went back for his order.

"Vissenta, have you met Andrico?" Selasi asked.

"Can't say I have," the stranger answered. "That's a face I wouldn't forget."

Andrico met this stranger's - Vissenta Selasi said - raised eyebrow with his own. There was something defiant in those green eyes. They reminded him of young coconuts, hard to crack. 

He was intrigued.

“Then you haven’t been looking hard enough," he said glibly.

Vissenta's responding laugh was sharp but not unpleasant. Nor was the feeling of her eyes roving over him as he took his order from Selasi. Though if Andrico didn't know any better, he somehow got wrapped into buying her drinks.

 “I… what?”

Vissenta sipped her coffee, eyes twinkling over the lip. “Or you could come to my shop to have your cards read. Or both. You know. Make a day of it.”

"Hm. You have a shop?" 

Andrico watched as Vissenta's expression turned absolutely mischievous. He was not going to think about the butterflies that erupted as a result. 

"You'll just have to keep looking," Vissenta said as they placed the coffee cup on the counter. Vissenta was soon gone with a grin and wave and if Andrico watched their hips sway as they left, that was his business.

[deirdra-hearts-nadia]

If I look then I touch then it's already over

Midsummer Masquerade Day 2: Suspension/ Overstimulation | Deirdra x Nadia 🍋

At the opening event of the Midsummer Masquerade, Deirdra and Vissenta are the stars of the show. But Dee may be in for a lot more than she bargained for...

CW: bondage/restraint, overstimulation, D/s dynamics

With thanks to @misery-lake for the use of Miz.

Artwork of Deirdra and Vissenta (full version under the cut) is by the ever-incredible @vissenta-senadz. Thanks for being a ho with me 💛

In the darkness of the ballroom, floating under her spotlight like a painting in a gallery, Deirdra could almost believe that she was alone. She can’t turn her head, not with her hair tied like this, and even if she could, the light above her would hide anyone outside its bright glare. But if she focuses, she can hear the heavy breathing, the little pants and sighs that tell her the other exhibits are just as keyed up as she is. 

Nadia explained it to her weeks ago, when Deirdra first expressed interest in the art of suspension. This gallery event was the grand opening of the Midsummer Masquerade, the first in a series of sensual delights designed to offer guests a taste of all the diversions available for sampling over the course of the night. Exhibits — or rather, exhibitionists — would be suspended from the ballroom ceiling, tied carefully into positions that would showcase their best assets or test their endurance, depending on their preferences. Each one would have a curator there to perform the rigging, but also to monitor the exhibit and the guests to ensure that everyone was healthy and having fun. The exhibitors nearest the door, done up in black silk rope, would be for viewing only. In the center, bound in white silk, would be the exhibits which could be touched with permission from the curator. And finally, the two exhibits closest to the stairs would be suspended in the finest gold silk, free for anyone to touch. Vissenta, a veteran of the local human artwork scene, is one of them. Dee herself is the other. 

On that thought, Dee hears the double doors at the other end of the ballroom swing open, and the murmur of the crowd outside heightens. But no one speaks and no one enters until, from the bottom of the ballroom stairs, near enough for Deirdra to touch if she could just move her arms, Nadia’s voice rings out. “Honored guests, welcome. Welcome to an evening of sensual delights, of fantasies fulfilled, of desires brought forth from darkness and made real. Welcome to everything you never knew you wanted. Welcome... to the Midsummer Masquerade.”

As the last word fades, there is a snap. Thousands of short candles blink to life around the edges of the room, their heatless flames offering just enough light to illuminate the plush red carpet that rolls up the center of the room between the exhibits. Music, low and sweet, begins to echo from a distant corner. Muffled footsteps and hushed voices dull the sounds of breathing as the first guests enter the room. 

In her mind, Deirdra can see it, the glow of admiration and the heat of desire in a hundred pairs of eyes as people begin to take in the artistry on display. The endurance, the trust, the sensuality, the skill. Some of the participants are suspended to accentuate their particular assets — flexible hips, ample breasts, taut muscles. Vissenta is bound as if on her knees, her ass and thighs a glorious display that even Dee has to admit is mighty tempting. Other displays are pure artistry, including one that twines a pair of lovers into a knot nearly as intricate as the ones that hold them aloft. This was what Deirdra and Nadia had eventually agreed on, after trying a dozen different poses. A harness of braided knots loops her waist and breasts. One of her ample thighs is held aloft, the other left to hang low, her foot bound to her hair in a loop that forces her head back into a graceful arch. 

She sinks into it, closing her eyes and savoring the anticipation. She is waiting for the first murmurs of admiration or distaste, the first touch. She doesn’t have to wait long. A firm smack on her ass makes her shiver, and the voice that follows makes her smile.

“Nadia, darling, you’ve outdone yourself again.” Misery sweeps forward, and Dee can feel the flutter of delicate silk sleeves over her skin as her friend walks by. “The artwork this year is exquisite.”

Nadia’s voice is low and self-satisfied. “You know I would hate to disappoint my guests. How could I possibly keep something so beautiful all to myself?” One of her fingers trails along Deirdra’s jaw, and she shivers again, her belly clenching. And in this position, she realizes, there will be no relief. 

Misery chuckles at both of them. “Have fun, you two,” she says, and her footsteps fade away. 

Dee can hear the smile in Nadia’s voice when she replies, although the reply isn’t truly for Miz. “Oh, we most certainly will.” 

Deirdra trembles at the promise in those words, and then more hands are on her, and she’s lost in the sensations. Someone grabs her thigh the way a lover would before burying their face in her core and she feels herself go hot. Fingers pinch her nipples, pulling one and then the other, and she tries to arch into the pleasure-pain in spite of the ropes holding her. Fingernails glide along the crease where her ass meets the top of her thigh and she nearly comes out of her skin, whimpering for more. 

Nothing is enough now; not the pressure of the silk cords on her skin, not the lingering or feathering or bruising touches, not the cool of the night air across her dripping core. Deirdra is wound so tight with need that the seconds that elapse between each hand that lands on her body seem to stretch into infinity. But when she opens her eyes to plead for release, Nadia's gaze meets hers. Not yet, my love, say her hooded eyes and self-satisfied smirk. 

Dee's breaths are coming hard and fast now, her ribs straining against the soft silk ropes as she tries to breathe deep, to regain some control of herself. Her panties are soaked, molded against her mound from wet and from the fingers that test and tease her. Her thighs are shaking with need, with her desperate longing to press them together for even the tiniest measure of relief. 

Finally Nadia sees, and seems to take pity on her poor, unfulfilled wife. She steps into the circle of the spotlight and sets her hands to the ropes as if to adjust them — but it is only pretext. The Countess leans down, one of her violet braids dangling against Deirdra's cheek as she whispers, "they can touch you all they like, my wildflower. But you're not here for them. You wanted to show everyone you're mine? Then tonight, no one makes you come but me." She straightens and steps away.

Dee nearly weeps at the loss. She is going to die here, she's sure of it, because she can't possibly take any more of this stimulation. But of course she can, and she will, because Nadia demands it. 

And so she closes her eyes again and gives herself up to touch. Time and thought cease to exist — her entire existence gives over to the places where skin meets skin. Fingertips along the line of her throat. Palms grasping her hips. Knuckles traced down the side of her breast and ribcage. She is breath, she is trembling, she is a bubble swept on a wave of pleasure that is still a long way from crashing on the shore. 

[ponkho]

Hey @vissenta-senadz look what I found!

Isn't this that fan with knives that Vissenta used that one time?

[claudia-nomusaabara]

Vissenta presents a small cloth-wrapped bundle to Anele. Inside is a spool of lace - handmade, it looks like, with a repeating pattern of lilies worked with bright white thread, and pearlescent feathering along the edge. “To add a little something special to your next outfit.” She grins. “Happy birthday!”

Anele takes the present delicately from Vissenta's hands. She traces each flower lightly with hir fingertips as Anele’s smile grows soft and fond.

“It’s...it’s always wonderful to receive a gift but to get it from someone who cares? There’s nothing like it. Thank you Vissenta.”