Min-gyu, to Song Ji-won's Home
After leaving the four-cut photo booth, the two returned to the parking lot.
The air inside the car had cooled gently.
In the quiet moment just before departure, Song Jiwon started the engine with a light touch.
She leaned toward Min-gyu in the passenger seat and, with the practiced ease of a maid, smoothly pulled his seatbelt across his chest and clicked it into place.
Her breasts pressed lightly against his arm, the soft elasticity of her E-cup chest brushing against him through her shirt before pulling away.
“I’ll be driving now, Master.”
Her tone was as gentle and composed as ever. She glanced at the rearview mirror, then quietly pressed the accelerator.
The Porsche Boxster glided forward smoothly.
The navigation system remained off, yet she turned the wheel with the confidence of someone who knew the route by heart.
Min-gyu watched her quietly from the passenger seat before pulling out his smartphone.
The screen still held the vivid video they had just recorded inside the booth.
“Master…”
Song Jiwon spoke first.
“About that video… and the photos earlier…”
The back of her hand resting on the steering wheel tensed slightly, and her thighs, neatly pressed together beneath her short skirt, squeezed together in a subtle motion.
When she braked at a red light, the hem of her skirt rode up just enough to reveal the soft inner flesh of her thighs and the delicate lace edge of her panties.
Min-gyu stared without looking away.
Even knowing his gaze was on her, she continued.
“My face and breasts are completely visible… You won’t upload them anywhere else, right?”
It was a natural question, but her tone carried both shyness and trust.
Without a word, Min-gyu replayed the clip on his phone—her breasts exposed, lips wrapped around his cock, eyes curved in a smile as she looked straight at the camera, silently declaring herself “Master’s bitch.”
“I’m not uploading it.”
He answered briefly, then turned his head to look at her.
“You’re my golden goose. I’m not stupid enough to kill you for the eggs.”
Song Jiwon’s expression flickered between a laugh and tension.
Min-gyu looked back down at the screen, where every detail—cock, saliva, tongue, breasts, nipples, and Song Jiwon proudly sucking him—was captured.
“…But still,” she said again.
Her right foot moved gracefully on the accelerator, causing her thighs to tighten and relax in rhythm. The sunlight caught the smooth skin between her skirt and panties, flashing glimpses of what lay beneath.
“If you just mosaic my face… I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to show it off somewhere.”
Min-gyu lifted his head.
“What?”
She lowered her gaze slightly, a faint smile on her lips.
“I just thought… you might like that. Showing off your woman. Like… bragging.”
She eased off the brake and waited for the left-turn signal. Inside the slowing car, the edge of her panties beneath the skirt spread open at an angle that nearly touched the seat, revealing a brief shadow between her legs.
Min-gyu chuckled.
“Yeah? Well… it would be a waste to keep it all to myself. We’ll think about that part together later.”
At his words, she glanced sideways.
“Really? Together?”
Instead of answering, Min-gyu picked up one of the photo strips she had placed on the seat earlier. It showed her smiling with her breasts exposed and his cock in her mouth—lewd yet endearing.
“This really is too good to keep to myself.”
A peculiar smile spread across Song Jiwon’s face.
She pressed the brake again. Though their destination was close, the short drive felt like it was solidifying their secret promise.
Beneath her school uniform, between her legs, the lingering sensation of the cum she had swallowed earlier still tingled, sticky and warm against her thighs and ass as she drove.
I’m really… Master’s now.
Only the quiet hum of the engine filled the car.
Min-gyu sat in the passenger seat with the two photo strips on his lap. He carefully picked up one set and leaned toward the driver’s side.
“This one’s yours.”
Song Jiwon kept her eyes on the road, but when she felt him extend his hand, she used the brief pause at a light to reach out carefully. She accepted the photo strip with both hands, respectfully.
“Keep it hidden well.”
She looked down at the strip. In the glossy film, she saw herself with breasts fully exposed, cock in her mouth, smiling—willingly, lewdly, with that unmistakably aroused expression. Her tongue licked the tip while her fingers pinched her own nipple, eyes sparkling at the lens.
That woman was her.
Vulgar… obscene…
Her eyes trembled for a moment as she gazed at the photo, but the emotion wasn’t shame or embarrassment.
I wanted to be seen like this… I wanted to remain like this…
The corner of her mouth slowly lifted.
“Yes, Master… Of course. It’s precious… our memory.”
She carefully wrapped the photo strip with both hands and slipped it into the innermost pocket of her bag, as if it were a jewel or a love letter. Then she pressed the accelerator once more.
Even though her raised skirt exposed her thighs and the edge of her panties, she made no move to fix it. Instead, she seemed to savor his gaze, shifting her hips slightly from side to side as she settled into her seat.
“By the way…” she said carefully.
“The sun hasn’t set yet… it’s still early.”
Her voice carried a hint of reluctance. Even though she knew this wasn’t just a simple outing or date, she wanted to stay outside with Min-gyu a little longer.
At that moment, Min-gyu spoke quietly.
“You said you’re my bitch and you’ll do anything, right?”
Song Jiwon blinked reflexively, but kept her eyes forward.
“Then… what if I told you to get a divorce?”
Her fingers twitched on the steering wheel. The hand that had been moving smoothly moments ago paused, then slowly tightened again.
“…What? Divorce…?”
Her voice dropped a tone. Tension ran through her legs. The back of her hand gripping the wheel turned pale. Her skirt, resting on her knees, rode higher as her thighs squeezed together from the strain.
“I… that is…”
She bit her lip, struggling to continue, then brushed her hair aside with one hand for no reason.
Min-gyu simply watched her in silence, offering no interruption.
She felt his gaze on her entire body.
“I mean… getting a divorce… how should I put it… um…”
Unable to finish, Min-gyu let out a low chuckle.
“You can’t, can you?”
She couldn’t answer.
But her silence, and the trembling in her fingertips and thighs, spoke louder than any words.
Min-gyu continued.
“Don’t. I never planned to make you do it anyway.”
Her eyebrows lifted slightly.
“Because what excites me is that you’re a devoted wife at home, a popular female teacher at school, and in front of me—”
He slowly curled his lips into a smirk.
“—a bitch who even drinks piss.”
Song Jiwon’s foot slipped slightly on the brake pedal. That tiny falter said everything.
“Got it? Keep this double life going well.”
At his words, Song Jiwon let out a long breath of relief.
“Haa…”
She smiled softly.
“You scared me, Master…”
A relieved, slightly bashful smile bloomed on her lips as she lowered her head a little.
“Yes… At home, I’ll be a faithful housewife. In front of Master, I’ll obey like a dog.”
Her voice was gentle, filled with joy, loyalty, and the relief that Min-gyu accepted her double life.
“Thank you…”
She spoke with genuine sincerity.
The car had already entered the familiar streets. Building signs, alley corners, and students heading home after school slowly filled the view outside the window with everyday life.
Song Jiwon naturally turned the wheel toward Min-gyu’s studio apartment, but then he spoke.
“Your husband’s still on his business trip, right?”
She couldn’t answer immediately while driving. After a short pause, Min-gyu added quietly,
“We’re going to your place.”
Her eyes widened for a moment.
“…What?”
She asked without turning her head, keeping her eyes on the road, but Min-gyu’s gaze pinned her in place. His expression made it clear he wouldn’t repeat himself.
“We’re going to your house.”
Short and firm.
Song Jiwon’s heart thudded heavily.
Our… house…?
Her heartbeat pounded so hard it almost hurt, yet she offered no resistance. She immediately changed direction.
Min-gyu remained silent.
They both knew her husband was away on a business trip. The house was empty.
When they entered the underground parking garage, the sports car’s engine quieted. Song Jiwon parked smoothly within the lines.
At the elevator.
Only soft lighting illuminated the quiet underground space. The high-end elevator, which operated with a simple card touch rather than fingerprint recognition, opened smoothly.
Inside, stainless steel and matte black panels surrounded them. The floor was marble, the ceiling lit with indirect lighting. Their reflections appeared in the mirrored walls.
Min-gyu tried to straighten his shoulders, but in the silence, he couldn’t shake the feeling of somehow shrinking.
…As expected… art really is something only rich people can afford…
Without realizing it, his head lowered slightly.
The elevator doors opened. The hallway was short. At the end stood their destination—her home.
Song Jiwon swiped her card beside the front door with practiced ease. With a soft beep, the heavy steel door unlocked and opened smoothly.
The moment Min-gyu stepped inside, he unconsciously stopped speaking. The entryway alone, where they removed their shoes, was wider than his entire studio apartment combined.
Ceiling lights turned on with a soft glow, and a refined woody scent filled the air.
She casually slipped off her high heels and walked in. Min-gyu quietly removed his sneakers and followed.
At that moment, words slipped quietly from his mouth.
“Living in a place like this…”
While Song Jiwon, without turning around, rolled up her sleeves and dusted off her hands, he continued.
“At my place… you never once showed any discomfort or dislike, did you?”
His voice had grown strangely small.
Only now did Min-gyu realize how much she had been considerate of him. Everything became painfully clear in this moment.
She was being considerate… of me…
He exhaled a heavy breath and lowered his eyes to the floor.
Even without turning on extra lights, the recessed indirect lighting gently illuminated the floor. The glossy marble made his sneakers feel out of place and awkward.
The entryway was as deep and wide as a luxury hotel lobby. Even the shoe cabinet and mirror looked exorbitantly expensive, and the neat rug on the floor made him hesitate to step on it.
Min-gyu stood just inside the door, fidgeting with his shoelaces, worried that the dirt on his soles might soil the quiet home.
Then—
Song Jiwon returned.
Without a word, she carefully placed a pair of patterned indoor slippers in front of him.
“Here you are, Master.”
The slippers weren’t ordinary. Instead of simple cloth, they had a luxurious leather-like exterior, thick cushioning inside, and a subtle logo embossed on them.
Min-gyu nodded silently and carefully slipped his feet into them. Even the sensation against his toes felt different—like a hotel suite.
The moment he stepped inside, he felt strangely small, like an overwhelmed child.
She really does live well…
Song Jiwon approached him again as he stood there. Casually yet gently, she took his hand. Warm body heat. Natural, almost thoughtless guidance.
“This way, Master.”
She led him softly, like a maid.
“Please make yourself comfortable. I’ll bring some tea. Please wait a moment.”
With that, she hurried toward the kitchen with quick, excited steps.
Left alone, Min-gyu slowly stood in the center of the living room. The quiet space featured an eight-person sofa that dominated the view, an 85-inch television beyond it, and an arched bookshelf filled with art books along one wall.
He took a cautious step forward and unconsciously began calculating in his head.
The house I lived in with my parents was about 21 pyeong… This place…
He counted the floor tiles with his eyes.
One… two… three… four…
Adding the path to the kitchen, the master bedroom, and what looked like a walk-in closet, Min-gyu’s eyes widened slightly.
This must be over 60 pyeong… 64? Or maybe closer to 70?
For a moment, he was speechless. In the middle of this luxurious apartment, standing in this neatly arranged space, pretending to be the master of it all…
This isn’t just “living well” anymore, is it…?
His murmur held surprise and envy, but a stronger emotion rose above them.
But a woman like that… a woman this wealthy, cultured, and accomplished…
That same woman was now licking his cock with a smile, willingly receiving his cum, and happily keeping the evidence.
That woman… is my bitch.
Min-gyu’s lips curled upward on their own.
No matter how large the apartment, no matter how expensive the marble floors or the billions in property value… the woman named Song Jiwon belonged to him.
There was no doubt about it.
A short while later, Song Jiwon returned carrying a luxurious tray with a subtle sheen. On it sat a white porcelain teapot, two delicate gold-rimmed teacups, and a neatly folded white napkin. The scent of black tea, mingled with faint herbs and lily of the valley, drifted gently through the air.
Min-gyu was sitting carefully on the living room sofa, half-leaning against the backrest and looking around with a somewhat intimidated expression when she approached.
But she didn’t sit beside him. Instead, she quietly knelt on the carpet in front of the low table, removed her slippers, and placed the tray on the floor to her right. Holding a teacup with both hands, she slowly extended it toward him like a ritual.
“Master, here is your teacup~”
Her posture was flawless. Her back straight, her fingertips graceful, her gaze respectfully lowered. Offering the cup, she looked nothing like the vulgar “bitch” from earlier. Right now, she was presenting herself as a refined woman devoted entirely to her master.
Min-gyu couldn’t hide his surprise. Already overwhelmed by the house’s structure and atmosphere, he hadn’t intended to make her kneel and submit even here.
“Jiwon, it’s fine. You can just sit next to me.”
Still holding the cup out, she shook her head slightly, without the slightest disruption to her form.
“No. Somehow… this feels right.”
A soft smile lingered at the end of her words—cute, yet femininely composed.
Left with no choice, Min-gyu accepted the teacup. The warmth from her hands spread to his fingertips.
Only then did Song Jiwon straighten her posture slightly and carefully lift the lid of the teapot on the tray.
“I’ll pour the tea for you.”
Kneeling, she leaned forward with perfect balance and filled his cup. The motion looked like a painting—not mere sexual submission, but a natural blend of refinement, dignity, and the role she had willingly created as “the master’s woman.”
Min-gyu watched her in silence. From her fingertips, he felt loyalty, affection, and even pride directed toward him. An indescribable emotion quietly bloomed within him.
The illustration is still being prepared, so please enjoy the cute SD version of Jiwon while you wait~!