Episode 1 Tasted & Taken
Club Indulge throbbed with bass-heavy remixes, its velvet-lined walls echoing moans of approval for the night’s star. Patrons lined the stage, their drinks forgotten, eyes locked on the vision in rhinestones and red hair.
Licious DeLovely.
She was art in motion—hips rolling like sex set to rhythm, tits pushed high in a sheer corset, her bulge prominent beneath her gemmed bodysuit. Her skin gleamed deep mocha under the lights, each curve commanding. Her lips sparkled like wine and sin. She winked mid-spin, then licked her top lip, igniting cheers.
Back at the bar, Brandon Williams took another sip of his Old Fashioned, savoring the smooth hit of top-shelf bourbon. It calmed his nerves, just barely.
He couldn’t stop watching her.
He’d always been attracted to confident, beautiful women—cis and trans alike—but Licious was different. Licious was dangerous. Magnetic. Divine.
And she was walking straight toward him.
“Staring like that costs more than a drink,” she purred, her eyes devouring him.
Brandon smiled, trying to seem cool despite the pulsing in his pants. “Then I guess I owe you one.”
“Mmm. You do. And maybe a little more.”
He flagged down the bartender, still stunned by her presence. They settled into two velvet stools tucked into the corner of the bar, candlelight flickering across their glasses and her cleavage.
She dabbed something pink and crystalline onto her finger and slid it across her tongue. “You indulge?”
He blinked. “That molly?”
“Mmm-hmm. Baby bump,” she said. “Keeps the night warm.”
He nodded. “A little.”
She reached forward with her fingertip, gently touching his lower lip. “Open up.”
He obeyed.
The powder buzzed slightly on his tongue, then turned to a sweet warmth crawling down his spine. She offered the blunt next—half-smoked, slow-burning. He inhaled deep, citrus and pine flooding his lungs.
“I like soft boys with bad intentions,” she said. “You’ve got that look.”
Her thigh brushed his. She didn’t move it.
Licious leaned in close, her perfume a heady mix of oud, spice, and something dark. Her voice dipped into something velvet.
“You keep looking at me like you already know what I taste like.”
Brandon smiled, eyes heavy-lidded. “You’re just—really fucking sexy.”
“Mmm. And what would you do,” she murmured, tracing the rim of her glass, “if I told you I’m already hard under this outfit, thinking about making you gag on it?”
His cock twitched.
She noticed.
“Let me guess…” she whispered, lips brushing his ear. “You’ve jacked off to trans girls before. Porn. Big cocks. Pretty faces. You imagine fucking them, but the real fantasy—the one you don’t admit—is being the one bent over.”
He exhaled sharply. She was right.
“I have a bottle waiting. Good music. A joint rolled just right. You can taste me,” she said, stroking his inner thigh, “and if you’re very good… I might let you worship the part of me that makes boys like you forget they’re in charge.”
She stood and offered her hand. “One night. No pressure. Just come see what surrender tastes like.”
Brandon took her hand.
And followed her out into the night.
Her apartment was lush and low-lit—deep velvets, golden décor, scented candles burning clean. No weed smell hung in the air, just perfume and polish. It was sensual, elegant… predatory.
She poured them both a drink and kissed him as he swallowed. Her lips tasted of bourbon and danger.
“I’m going to show you something,” she whispered, guiding him past her bedroom to a locked black door with a silver handle.
She didn’t open it.
“Not yet,” she said. “That’s for another night.”
She stripped him slowly, letting his cock spring free—thick, flushed, eager.
She didn’t rush to undress herself. No, Licious was a performance, even in private.
When her catsuit peeled away and her cock swung into view, Brandon’s breath hitched.
It was a masterpiece.
Long and heavy, her shaft curved just slightly upward, dark chocolate with thick, pronounced veins that pulsed as she stroked it once. The uncut head was swollen and glistening, foreskin soft and perfect. Her balls hung low, full and tight.
“You want it?” she asked.
“Yes,” he whispered.
“Say it.”
“I want your cock, Goddess. Please let me suck it.”
“Good boy.”
She placed a hand on his bald head and slid into his mouth. He opened wide, lips sealing around the thick shaft. She fed it to him slowly, inch by inch, until he gagged. Then she pulled back.
“Breathe,” she whispered. “Then take more.”
He obeyed.
Her cock tasted of sweat and salt and sin. He worshipped it—kissing, licking, swallowing. His jaw ached. His throat burned. His cock was leaking.
She reached into the bedside drawer and pulled out a brown bottle.
“Let’s open you up a little more.”
She held the poppers under his nose. He inhaled—and the rush hit instantly. Warmth. Euphoria. Openness.
She grabbed his head and fucked his throat in earnest.
Deep, steady thrusts. Balls slapping his chin. Her moans low and guttural.
She warned him just once.
Then she came, hard, thick ropes flooding his throat.
“Swallow,” she said. “All of it.”
He did. Greedy.
“Clean me.”
He licked her until she was wet and twitching.
Then she spun him and bent him over the edge of her bed.
She lubed him generously, her fingers teasing his hole.
“You’ve never been fucked like this,” she said.
“No, Goddess.”
She pushed one finger in, then two.
He moaned.
Then she lined up.
And pressed in.
The stretch burned—painful and perfect. Her cock slid inside, thick and unforgiving, forcing him open, claiming him.
He grunted. “Wait—”
“No.”
She gripped his hips and drove deeper.
“Take me.”
He whimpered as her full length filled him, pressure building deep inside.
She pounded him hard, steady, her grip bruising. His cock bounced below him, untouched but leaking.
When she pulled out near the edge, she grabbed his chin and shoved her cock into his mouth.
“Swallow this load too.”
He obeyed.
The taste coated his tongue, warm and thick.
Before he could exhale, she shoved him back onto the bed, re-lubed, and plunged into him again.
This time, she didn’t stop until her second orgasm spilled deep into his hole—filling him.
He collapsed, gasping.
She kissed his shoulder.
“Look at you,” she whispered. “Such a good fuck. And this is only night one.”
She let him catch his breath.
Then helped him dress.
“You’re not staying,” she said softly.
“What?”
“You’ll want me more if you go home aching. And I want your next orgasm to belong to me, too.”
He stood in silence. Her cum still deep inside him. Her taste still in his mouth.
She kissed him once—soft, possessive—and opened the door.
“Soon, baby,” she said. “You’ll be begging for my leash.”
To be continued…
