The Plucking Of a Rose

Author: David Williams

She was his precious white rose. His virgin flesh to have and take as he would. Dressed in a white gown, white gloves, white shoes and stockings, white under the breast corset, white rose mask and of course, white satin panties, she was pure for me. The candles around her softened the white and made it less blinding, but still, she sparkled for me as she stood waiting.

He walked to her, across the room; she was fidgeting nervously. He watch her apprehension with a certain amount of glee, it was satisfying that he could make someone so beautiful nervous. She knew, whatever was to come tonight would not be easy, but she was going to take it for me. She was excited, her nipples stiff and their dark shape in perfect contrast to the white leather corset. Her panties were wet as well he imagined. Standing there, waiting, she had nothing to do but imagine and build her own anticipation.

He had one hand behind his back as he walked up to her. As he neared he brought it out and showed her the dozen pure white roses he carried. She smiled and blushed; she did so love flowers, especially roses. Reaching into his pants pocket he took out a small pair of scissors and snipped them in the air and watched her smile take on a curious and confused aspect. Walking past her, he went to the night stand where there was a silver tray hidden under a white linen sheet.

Tossing the sheet to the bed, he revealed the contents of the tray to her. First was a silver bowl, filled with aromatic oils and coconut milk mixed. The creamy white liquid was almost like mother of pearl in color, the oils and milk not quite mixing all the way. There was a long strand of red ribbon next to the bowl, carefully folded and waiting for use. The last item was a crystal vial with a stopper. She could not see what was in it, but he knew it to be empty. It was a tiny vial, only holding a little over 1/4 an oz of liquid when full.

The items on the tray were diverse and didn’t give her an idea of what was to come. She tried to study them with stolen sideways glances, she was as curious as a kitten at times. He took his time unwrapping the roses from the tissue paper they came bundled in. One by one he laid each long stemmed rose on the white linen sheet on the bed. Spreading them out, he laid them in a fan configuration, all the stems radiating out from me.

Taking up one rose he brought it to his nose and sniffed deeply. The scent was not as potent as he would have liked, but that was OK, it soon would be. He playfully reached out and let the petals caress her lips, teasing her with the sensation. She smiled and breathed in deeply. He snipped the scissors in the air and she gave a little start, lost for a moment in the sensation of the flower.

Taking the rose he walked to the night stand again and carefully measured down the stem and snipped the petal free, letting it fall into the bowl of oils and milk. One by one, he took up each rose and snipped them all free, leaving just a tiny handle of the stem. Then the last rose, this one he slipped with a longer piece of stem and then trimmed the thorns off it carefully, leaving it smooth. This one was laid on the silver tray beside the bowl and not mixed with the others.

She was pouting at first as he cut the flowers and then intrigued. As each fell in, he knew her mind was racing and thinking of all the things he might possibly do to her. He smiled as she squirmed and tried to figure out his plans, knowing she hated not knowing. He took his time even more, making sure she was very frustrated from not knowing. He wanted her desperate to figure it out; it made it so much more fun.

“Knees,” he said and his voice caused her to jump. The silence was so encompassing that the sound of me talking was amplified. She only hesitated for a moment and then knelt down on the fluffy faux fur rug. She looked straight forward, not taking any chances with glances now. My voice and command told her that things had started; she was not being teased any more. Her training told her now was when she must focus and pay attention.

He took up the bowl and walked over to her, making sure to brush her shoulder as he passed by. Then, pausing for effect, he turned on his heels and looked down at her. She was staring slightly down, eyes open, knees parted. He left her sitting there like that for a few more moments to allow the head space to sink in. Reaching into the bowl, he took a rose by the stem and lifted it up. He allowed the oily mix to drip so that she could just see it. Dipping it back in he stepped up to her and reached out the rose and touched her with it, the liquid slowly drizzling down her shoulder and back.

The mix was cold, that was why he had selected a silver bowl, so the metal would steal more heat from it. He began to paint the skin of her shoulders and up her neck. She shivered as the mix spilled over her and then down her breast. Dipping the rose back in, he began to paint the other shoulder and soon, she was glistening nicely for me.

He squatted down and tossed the first rose to the side on the hardwood floor. Taking another, he began to paint her neck very slowly, very careful to allow the liquid to drizzle all over her chest as he covered her neck. She was trying not to quiver as she felt the rose petals caressing her skin, the silky petals made slippery and wet so that it was like being licked by the flower.

Tossing the second away, he began to paint her perky tits with the third rose, letting the petals flick across her nipples wetly and drip slipperiness down her body. He painted under each breast carefully until both were well coated and slick. Reaching out his hand, he took one breast gently in his palm and then made a fist, the flesh slipped free with an audible pop sound. She winced and bit her lip to keep from moaning. He liked that. She was doing well.

He placed the bowl on the floor and took two roses, one in each hand. Slowly, painfully slow he painted her thighs, soaking her stockings through. From just inches below the top of her thigh to knee he painted her, leaving her skin shiny and with a slight white tinting from the mix.

Tossing those away, he grabbed up several more and used them all with one hand and pained across her exposed abdomen, letting the globs of cold liquid drip down into her panties, in seconds the white satin growing darker as it was soaked. She could not stifle a moan this time and he let her have it. It was satisfying to hear her pushed beyond silence.

“On the bed, face down laying flat.” he said to her and then stood and stepped back from her. She rose up very gracefully, careful not to be jerky in her motion or use her hands for a push. She stood and turned and walked to the bed and laid herself face first down on the satin sheets. Her ass was framed perfectly in the white stockings and garter and t back panties. He stepped up and stared down at her, watching the dancing flames of the candles shade and reshade her in different hellish glows.

Grabbing the rest of the roses at once, he held them over her ass and let them drip on her. The oil explored every inch of her, slowly working its way down her crack and across her waiting pussy. She moaned and squirmed just a tiny bit. He smiled and dipped the roses in again and then began to paint her flesh. He let the roses saturate her panties and ass cheeks, making sure to tickle the sensitive areas at the top of the crack and under each round of her ass. She squirmed again and he cleared his throat, that was all it took and she was motionless again.

He dipped the roses back into the mix and lifted them out fast and slopped them onto her thigh, the oily goo splashing and soaking the stockings and dripping between her legs. She was moaning little mewing noises and he stopped painting her to listen and enjoy it. It sounded so sweet . . . he poured the rest of the mix onto her ass in one big splash, soaking her, her clothing, the bed, everything.

She squealed in surprise, but managed to stay still. He could tell it was hard for her. He rubbed the mess with his bare hands now; making sure her ass was well coated. The oils were quickly either soaked into her skin, softening it, or rubbed away except for a trace of them. He massaged her ass cheeks and then her legs and shoulders, letting her feel how slippery she was, how completely soaked. Then he slid just the tips of his fingers down her spine, across the corset and down to her ass.

Very gently, he slid his fingers under her panties and grabbed them. “Baby. . .” His voice was so soft, so soothing, she purred a response. “Time. . .” He pulled the panties a little, bringing them very tight on her. “To. . .” He laughed and she braced herself, something was coming. “Start.” He snapped the panties easily, but that instant before the fabric gave, it bit into her hard and she was lifted by her underwear several inches off the bed. As they ripped she plomped back down onto the bed, her breath taken by the pain.

He was laughing and grabbed her hands, she was pinned before she knew what was happening, her soaking panties used to tie her hands behind her back. She squealed as he pulled the elastic fabric tight around her wrists and then left her laying there. She turned her head slightly and saw him walking back to the nightstand and taking up the red ribbon, the rose stems, and the last rose, the one with the longer stem piece still on it.

He walked out of her view and back around to her feet and waited. Again, the anticipation was driving her nuts, but now it was coupled with a slowly tickling as the oils and her own arousal dripped down her lips. When she was starting to squirm, he took the stems and placed them in a bunch and used the red ribbon to tie them around the base. He wrapped them twice and tied a large bow on it and laid them on her bare ass. She stopped squirming.

Taking the rose bud eh placed the stem end against her tight little asshole and slowly pressed it in. Her first response was to clench her cheeks and not allow it but the oils made that impossible. It was slick and the thin stem slid in her with ease.

“Clench your asshole.” He said. She did. “Don’t let that rose fall until I tell you that you can.” The stem was longer then the others, but still felt very close to sliding out of her ass at this position. She mewed protest and he cleared his throat. She went quiet again and concentrated on keeping her asshole tight as possible around the flower.

Her mind was focused and she lost track of the rest of the world as she clenched. Then he hit her the first time. The rolled up bunch of rose stems came down hard and brutally across her bare ass cheeks. She squealed and almost dropped the rose bud and then remembered and clenched again. “Hold it…don’t you let that drop.” He laughed and then struck her again across the ass.

Each time he struck, the thorns cut into her flesh. Because they were bundled tightly, they did not cut as badly as a single rose stem would when struck that hard, but they dug into her ass each time deep enough to bring forth screams. She wept and screamed for him and his cock became rock hard. Pulling it out with his free hand and stroking it fast, he continued the savage caning of her ass.

She was shaking and mewing noises now, slowly drifting away from the pain as it washed over her. “Don’t you drop it!” He commanded and she held the rose bud through all the pain. Blood dripped down her cheeks and he growled and stepped between her legs and stroked his cock hard and fast. Moaning, he began to cum on her, his squirts of cum striking in her ass crack and running down, slowly coating the rose bud as they filled her crack and flowed down to her pussy.

He finished cumming and struck her ass once more for good measure and stepped back. The cuts were only surface, not deep at all, but they gave that appearance. Her ass was stained red from the flow of the blood, red like the petals of a rose. He smiled, she was his rose.

“Let it drop now.” He panted.

She released the hold and the rose drooped and then fell to the floor. She cried with joy as she felt it slide free. She couldn’t say why, but she was happy, the pain had burned away everything but joy.

He stepped back to the nightstand and came back to her. Pressing the tiny crystal vial against her ass cheek, he gathered up drops of her blood until the small container was mostly filled. Adding to that, he scooped in some of his cum and also the juices of her soaking pussy. Taking the rose from the floor, he ripped off a shred of a petal and slid it into the vial and closed it, placing it next to her on the bed.

Reaching out, he stroked her hair. She looked up at him and smiled. He wiped several tears with his fingers and placed them on his lips to taste them. He shivered and tried to keep her eyes open as she watched, but couldn’t. She was cold. He stroked her and then placed a comforter over her body. She reached out and took the vial beside her, clenching it close to her heart. She was deflowered. She was a virgin no more.

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