Episode 17: Taeyang's Hunt — NTR, Blackmail Conditioning, Depravity, Corruption
Taeyang first saw her in the alley in front of a café. A man was walking hand in hand with a woman — he looked tidy, affectionate. The woman was beautiful enough to stop Taeyang mid-stride.
A childlike face. Soft, round features. Clear eyes. And yet the chest straining against her blouse matched none of it — the fabric pulled taut, swelling and swaying with every step, visible even from a distance.
Taeyang's eyes narrowed.
The gap. It was the first thing Taeyang looked for whenever he sized up a woman — the distance between an innocent face and a body like that. Hers was enormous. She probably didn't even know it was there.
The man reached to rest a hand on her shoulder. She eased away from it, smooth and unthinking, and he let his hand fall — settling for her fingers alone.
So that's all that man gets from her.
The corner of Taeyang's mouth curled upward.
It took two days to dig into her. Her name was Seoyeon. The boyfriend was Jiho — two years together, promised to be married.
And until two years ago, Seoyeon had worked part-time at a club in Gangnam.
Taeyang knew the club's owner. One call was all it took. A photo arrived: Seoyeon in a short dress, long legs, that chest, posed alone with a customer — her face uneasy even in the picture.
This is more than enough.
The café was where Taeyang first made his approach. He slid into the seat beside her and held out his phone.
The book slipped from Seoyeon's hands.
"Look at this..."
"You know the picture, don't you?"
The color drained from Seoyeon's face, fear blooming in her eyes as she glanced around for anyone who might help. But there was no one.
Taeyang stood and walked out. Seoyeon followed.
An alley. Somewhere with no people. Taeyang turned to face her, and that childlike face was brimming with terror.
"How much do you want?"
"Not money."
Seoyeon froze. She tried to back away, and Taeyang caught both her wrists and pinned them up against the wall. His gaze slid down to her blouse. Slowly. Seoyeon felt the look land on her chest like a touch, as if his eyes alone were setting her skin alight. It made no sense.
His hand closed over her breast. No caution, no ceremony — he simply grabbed it. Hard, with his whole palm.
"Ah—"
The sound escaped before she could stop it. He'd seized her roughly — and something strange was rising from below her belly, something Seoyeon couldn't begin to understand. It wasn't pain. It came from some entirely different direction.
Taeyang squeezed harder, fingers digging in.
"Nnh—"
Heat began pooling below her belly. Seoyeon's eyes went hazy.
Taeyang murmured low beside her ear.
"Tomorrow. I'll text you the place."
Then he dragged his tongue slowly up her cheek, bottom to top, like a man savoring the taste. He released her, and he left.
Seoyeon stood leaning against the wall. The ghost of his tongue still clung to her cheek. Her chest burned. Her face was hot.
It was the unfamiliarity that shook her — the part that wasn't fear. Her body was reacting in some completely wrong direction. She could have called Jiho and told him everything that had happened today. She could have gone to the police.
But that night, Seoyeon did none of it. Under the blanket, she remembered the feel of the hand that had gripped her chest.
And the next day, she went to the place.
A cheap inn. Seoyeon pushed the door open and stepped inside, and Taeyang rose and came toward her. She took a step back.
"Wait. Let's settle the terms first—"
He caught her waist and pulled.
"Let go of me."
He didn't answer.
"I said let go — what are you—"
He yanked at her blouse, and a button popped off.
"Don't!"
Taeyang pinned both her wrists in one hand and raised them above her head.
"Scream and the whole hallway hears you."
Seoyeon went rigid.
He shoved her bra up and seized her breast. Hard — harder than yesterday, fingers sinking deep.
"Ah—"
She bit her lip, trying to cage the sound. Taeyang squeezed harder still, pressing his thumb down on her peak before dragging it taut.
"Ahh—"
She couldn't hold it in. The rougher he handled her chest, the fiercer the response from below her belly — her body was wired that way, nerves running in a straight line from her chest down. The harder the touch, the louder the answer. Taeyang had figured that out.
He lowered his mouth and sucked.
"Hah—!"
This time she couldn't muffle it. Her lower body went up in flames; something warm began to gather inside her panties. Seoyeon twisted her wrists, struggling to break free. His grip only tightened. Then he pushed her down onto the bed.
"Wait— just wait a second—"
Taeyang came down over her.
It was her first time. The moment he entered her, it felt like being split apart, and tears spilled from Seoyeon's eyes.
"Nnhh— don't— please—"
Taeyang didn't stop.
It hurt. And yet — every time he squeezed her chest hard, something answered from below her belly. The feeling of being filled, of being pushed open from within; as her body adjusted, something else began to rise alongside the pain. Seoyeon didn't want to know what that something was.
"I don't want this— ah—"
Her body, unlike her words, was responding. The rhythm quickened. She clutched at his arm, trying to push him away — but no strength went into it. It wasn't force aimed at shoving Taeyang off. It was the opposite.
Waves rolled through her lower belly, sensations she had never once felt. It was hard to believe her body was loving this. Her whole body went stiff; the tears flowed harder.
Taeyang finished. He got up.
Seoyeon lay where he'd left her, breathing. Her body was still burning — and that was the more shameful part. The tears weren't born of sadness. They came from being a stranger in her own skin.
Taeyang looked down at her.
"See you next time."
That night, a call came from Jiho.
"Seoyeon, your voice sounds strange today. Is something wrong?"
"No. I'm fine."
She hung up. Under the covers, she looked down at her own body. Today, for the first time, she understood where that sensation had come from.
Jiho had never once touched her chest that way. He was careful, always — as if he might hurt her. Which was why Seoyeon had never known her breasts were sensitive. That a rough grip would make her lower body answer.
The knowledge terrified her. And — underneath the terror, something else was stirring too. Seoyeon decided not to think about what it was.
Three days later. The same inn. The moment Seoyeon pushed through the door, Taeyang was on her from behind.
"Wait—"
Before the word was out, her blouse was off. Then her bra.
"I told you not to—"
His hands closed over her from behind. Hard.
"Ahh—"
Her body already knew where this sensation led. It had learned, that first time: when Taeyang's hands gripped her here like this, her lower body answered like that.
Seoyeon grabbed at his wrists, trying to pry them away. His strength swamped hers.
"Your body's honest, at least," Taeyang murmured against her ear.
Her hands went slack. He wasn't wrong. She'd started out trying to pull his hands off — and at some point she'd been pulling them closer. Not pushing him away. Pulling him in, asking for more. The shame of it was unbearable.
His fingers pinched her peaks, thumb pressing down and dragging. Her lower body responded all at once.
"Mnnh—"
Her legs went weak. Seoyeon clung to his arm to keep from sliding down.
Taeyang chuckled low in his throat.
The bathroom. Taeyang turned on the shower and dragged her in by the arm.
"Not here. Please."
He didn't answer. He pressed her up against the wall.
"Let go — I'm telling you, I really don't want—"
He entered her from behind, and whatever she was going to say broke off.
The angle was different from behind — the way her depths were pressed was different. With the warm water streaming down, every sound swelled in the cramped little bathroom. His hands reached around front and seized her chest.
"Haahh—!"
Seoyeon braced her hand hard against the wall. It came from front and back at once, two streams of sensation converging into one somewhere deep in her belly.
Then Taeyang pulled out.
"Huh— why—"
No answer. His hand pressed her lower, bending her toward the wall.
"Wait— not there—"
He pushed into her other entrance.
"Nghaaa—!"
It was something entirely new. Completely different — a pressure like being stuffed full, a resistance from some other direction altogether. And yet that pressure rang all the way into her core. This was ground she had never felt before. She hadn't known this part of her held anything like it.
"Stop— not there, please—"
Taeyang didn't stop. Slowly. Deeper.
"Aaahh—"
Seoyeon's body trembled, fingers scraping the tile.
"Your boyfriend never got to open this side of you either, did he," Taeyang breathed against her ear.
"...Shut up."
"Then why's your body taking it so well?"
He wasn't wrong. She felt like she was resisting — but her body wasn't pushing him out. If anything, it was adjusting, taking him deeper, and as that untouched place opened for the first time, a sensation of a wholly different order was rising through her. It was mortifying. That she could feel it here too.
Taeyang quickened the rhythm, and at the same moment his hand came around front. Front and back at once — three places, chest included, all together.
"Haahhh—!"
The sensations from both ends overlapped, crashing through her depths in a single surge — and what came from that place she hadn't known existed was different in nature from the front. Deeper. Heavier.
"You like this?"
"...I hate it."
"Liar."
His grip on her chest hardened, and Seoyeon's voice burst out of her, impossible to cage.
"Hah— ahh—"
The steam cleared from the mirror and showed her Seoyeon's face — that childlike face, eyes glazed and wet, mouth hanging open.
Waves surged up from below her belly.
"Haahh— haahhh—"
Her whole body locked and her breath stopped. The climax broke over her — front and back at once, two waves of entirely different character cresting together, at an intensity she had never known. She shuddered and pressed her forehead to the wall.
Taeyang finished with her. The warm water kept falling. Seoyeon's knees started to buckle.
Taeyang laughed under his breath.
"Jiho must have gone his whole life without a clue, huh. What kind of bitch you really are."
Seoyeon couldn't lift her head. He wasn't wrong. Jiho hadn't known.
And Seoyeon — now she knew. Where and how her body responded. What happened when each place was handled hard, how it opened. Taeyang was the one who had taught her all of it.
That was the most shameful part of all. And — the shame was what would bring her back to him next time.
A week passed. Jiho took her hand, gently, the way he always did. Seoyeon looked down at that hand.
This hand has never once held my chest the way it wants to be held.
He held her carefully, afraid of hurting her. She had thought that was tenderness — she had believed it, too. But now she knew. That kind of gentleness was not enough for her.
The instant the thought crossed her mind, Seoyeon realized how far she had already come. She was looking at Jiho and thinking of Taeyang.
The first time, she invited him to the apartment. Not the inn — her home. To that sofa where she had spent two years with Jiho.
It was the one thing she must not do. She knew that. And yet the knowledge didn't stop her fingers. Seoyeon couldn't have explained why herself. The moment the message came that Jiho would be late — she was already thinking of Taeyang.
When she received that text, the thought took hold: she wanted to do it in this house. Something different from what the inn offered. On this sofa. In the very spot where Jiho sat.
When the thought arrived, Seoyeon didn't agonize over it for long. She texted Taeyang. Come.
The sofa. Seoyeon climbed on top, and Taeyang's hands settled on her waist.
She began to move. Slowly. She already knew how to move here — knew now. Which angle reached her depths. Which depth struck hardest. The pace built, up and down, the sensation welling from her core stacking on itself. Her chest swayed with the rhythm until Taeyang caught it in his hands. Hard. He knew, too, how her body answered a rough grip there — he'd had it figured out from the very first day.
"Hah— haah—"
She rolled her hips to take him deeper. Sweat beaded at her hairline, strands clinging to her face, and she didn't care. Something deep below her belly was drawing tight. The end was closing in — she knew now where this feeling was headed, and she wanted to go there. Faster. Her hips swinging wider.
She saw nothing. Not the room around her, not the world past the window. Nothing. Sensation existed only below her belly.
"Haahh— ah—"
Then the door opened.
It was Jiho.
Their eyes met.
Seoyeon didn't stop.
It wasn't deliberate. Not at first. Her body was too close to the peak; the signal to stop arrived — and her body refused to hear it. But a beat later, she understood. She could have stopped. She had chosen not to.
She could see Jiho's face. Frozen. Eyes that couldn't believe what they were seeing — did I open the wrong door? Am I seeing this wrong? Those eyes. The eyes that had trusted Seoyeon for two years. The eyes that had promised her marriage.
And Seoyeon kept moving while she looked into them.
It wasn't that she felt no guilt. She did. But the guilt was weaker than what was rising from below. The peak was too close — stop now, and it would take time to climb all the way back up. That time felt too precious to waste.
That was all there was to it.
She watched something collapse in Jiho's eyes. She saw it — and then her gaze drifted elsewhere. Down, to her own body. Focusing there felt more natural; the sensation from there was sharper than the expression on his face.
Up and down.
Jiho stumbled backward, bolted out the door, and it closed behind him.
Seoyeon didn't stop.
Taeyang pushed her forward until she was bent over, hands braced on the back of the sofa, and took her from behind.
"Ah—"
One hand fisted in her hair, wrenching her head back. The angle was different — her depths pressed from a new direction.
"Haahh—!"
The cry tore out of her; there was no holding it. Taeyang drove the rhythm higher, the hand in her hair pulling harder, her throat arching further back. Waves rolled through her core. His free hand came around front and seized her chest.
"Haahhnn—"
Her whole body locked, breath seizing, inner walls clenching as the wave spread through her. Taeyang stiffened with her. Shudders wracked them both.
He let go of her hair, and Seoyeon collapsed onto the sofa.
Seoyeon caught her breath. In her line of sight was the closed door.
Her body was still burning; the afterglow still hummed through her. And that was all there was. There was no room for grief — the heat had claimed every inch of the space where it might have lived.
For now, that was enough.