The DeLovely Sessions

Brandon’s devotion to Licious intensifies as she introduces Marisol into their intimate space. In a haze of pleasure and control, Brandon finds himself serving with every inch of his body—while Marisol watches. Licious claims him again, letting him climax only when she decides he’s earned it.

  • Score 9.4 (2 votes)
  • 36 Readers
  • 910 Words
  • 4 Min Read

The Taste Of Obedience

Final Revised Version

The rooftop bar pulsed with low music and high energy, the scent of citrus and clove hanging in the air. Brandon leaned against the railing with a bourbon Old Fashioned in hand, savoring the warmth of the top-shelf liquor while trying to keep his composure between two incredibly powerful women.

Licious, radiant in her sheer black blouse and tight jeans, nursed her drink slowly while surveying the crowd with her usual calm authority. Her long cherry red braids gleamed under the ambient lighting, her presence magnetic. At her other side stood Marisol—olive-skinned and sensual, her long dark waves framing a bold face and a body that exuded control. Her fitted mini dress hugged every curve, a vision of raw femininity and caged dominance.

They sipped, flirted, and passed a slim joint between them. Brandon accepted his turn, the sharp tingle of the smoke and the subtle euphoria from a tab of molly buzzing just beneath his skin. The trio was electric—every touch and look charged with intention.

“I like the way he watches you,” Marisol said, her voice smooth like smoke. She traced her nail up Brandon’s forearm. “I wonder if he tastes as sweet as he looks.”

“He does,” Licious replied with a grin, “but you’ll have to be patient.”

Brandon’s heart thudded at their exchange. He didn’t know what awaited him exactly, but the look Licious gave him—a mix of possessiveness and wicked anticipation—left no doubt he’d find out soon enough.

Later, back at Licious’s apartment, the soft flicker of candles lit the living room in gold. The scent of sandalwood drifted through the air, mingling with the last traces of smoke curling from the ashtray. Brandon followed them in, his mind buzzing, his cock already aching with desire.

Licious slid off her jacket and turned toward him. “Strip. Then kneel.”

He obeyed instantly.

Marisol watched him from across the room, slipping off her heels and slowly peeling her dress over her head. Beneath it, she wore nothing. Her cock hung thick and half-hard between her thighs, slightly longer than Licious’s but not quite as thick—its prominent mushroom head heavy and smooth, like a thick polished knob. Brandon swallowed hard.

Licious, standing behind him, leaned down and whispered, “You know what I want. Show her how obedient you are.”

Brandon crawled forward on his knees, looking up at Marisol for a silent signal. She tilted her head slightly, granting him access. He leaned in, licking the tip of her shaft, savoring the salty trace of pre-cum already forming at her slit.

His tongue explored her shaft slowly, reverently. Marisol groaned softly, fingers resting lightly on the back of his shaved head.

“Mmm… that mouth is better than I imagined,” she murmured.

Brandon took her in deeper, stretching his jaw, easing the thick knob past his lips. Marisol’s cock throbbed as he began to bob, worshiping her with eager strokes and slurps.

“Not to completion,” Licious said from behind. “I didn’t give you permission.”

He stopped immediately, gasping softly as he pulled back.

Licious grinned. “Good boy. Now, follow me.”

She led them to the dungeon—red-lit, inviting, and charged with promise. Chains gleamed on the walls, and a padded bench waited in the center like a throne of sin.

“Lie down,” Licious said, motioning to the bench. Brandon obeyed, and she undressed with practiced elegance, her glorious cock rising, already firm from the display.

She didn’t mount him from behind. Instead, she climbed over him, guiding his legs up and open, aligning herself between his thighs. Her cock pressed against his entrance, and she paused just long enough for him to lock eyes with her.

“You’re going to take every inch,” she growled, pushing forward in one deep thrust.

He moaned, body shuddering under her control.

Marisol pulled a chair nearby and began to stroke herself slowly, watching the scene unfold. Her eyes glimmered with hunger.

Licious thrust into Brandon with precision and power, her hands gripping his thighs as she picked up speed. His body accepted her eagerly, ass stretched and pulsing, gasps torn from his throat.

“Look at him,” Marisol said, standing and walking to the side of the bench. “He was made for this.”

She brought her cock to his lips again. Brandon opened without hesitation, lips parting to take in her thick shaft.

Licious fucked him harder. Brandon was caught between them—his throat filled with Marisol’s cock, his ass being driven into by Licious. The rhythm built, intoxicating and raw.

Marisol groaned. “Fuck… I’m gonna cum…”

She thrust deep into his mouth and grunted as she released, thick jets of hot cum pouring over his tongue. Brandon moaned, swallowing greedily, and in the moment of total submission—being used by both—his body betrayed him.

He came. Hard. Hands-free. His cock pulsed and spilled onto his belly, his moans muffled by Marisol’s still-throbbing shaft.

Licious felt the twitch of his muscles and the way he clenched around her. With a low growl, she thrust deep one final time and came inside him, flooding him with her heat, claiming him again.

She collapsed forward, her lips brushing his ear.

“You’re mine. Every inch of you.”

Brandon lay there, spent and aching, filled and wrecked, floating on pleasure and devotion.

As Marisol stepped back to dress again, Licious smirked at Brandon’s dazed face.

“Next time,” she said wickedly, “you’ll be serving Marisol. Fully.”

His eyes widened—but he didn’t protest.

To be continued…

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