A Pretty Rose

“I've seen you, you know I have. I know you've been performing for me, I've heard you singing to me while you wash the dishes”

Great, in my own house half-naked and tied to my own dining chair. He was behind me now, tightening the bindings that held my hands to the chair. I could smell him, the slightly sweet aroma of old sweat mixed with what? Old socks? Teach me for opening the door after dark won't it.

Don't panic just don't panic. Right, just a couple of deep breaths. One...two...three, deep breaths....that's it, inhale then slow exhale.

Ok, mental note. Location? My dining room. Time? About 10pm by now, as far as I can tell. Situation? Blindfolded, gagged and tied to my fucking dining chair while this smelly lunatic mutters his own sweet nothings in my ear and checks the ties holding me down!

“I've got some flowers for you, my sweet.”

God, what's that smell - reminds me of something. I can smell them as he holds them out for me to sniff. roses definitely, but what else? Funny how even blindfolded it's easier to close my eyes to remind myself of a scent even though I can't see. What is it? Oh god! Semen? A cum scented rose. A right charmer we've got here.

“I'd watch you through the kitchen window...”

He was panting a bit as he talked I could sense him moving backwards and forwards in front of me as he spoke.

“I'd watch you from the rose garden, my cock out for you. Then I'd hear you singing to me. Oh man, it made my cock ache so bad”

His breath was rasping slightly and the unmistakable sound of his zip opening.

“I'd have to...y'know...touch myself. Watching you, listening to you sing to me. So I'd leave you a little something in the garden to remind you how much you meant to me.”

Ohh no. I'd thought it was snails. I'd put snail bait down cause there'd been slimy trails over my roses. It wasn't snail trails it was this weirdo's 'little something'. He'd been lurking out in my garden wanking over my roses while he watched me. Oh fuck. I could hear the slapping sounds as he furiously wanked in front of me now, his breathing fast and high.

“I want...I want you to be my flower....my...my lovely rose.”

Then I felt it. Warm and wet on my cheek, chin and chest as he jerked his 'little something' over his very own flower. Now I was the cum-splattered receptacle for this cretin’s sexual emission. God, I don't want any more of this. How do I get out of this mess?

“Mmm my pretty little flower, it's a shame that flowers wither and die eh”

Uh oh. Christ. I've heard what you're supposed to do, if you're a hostage you're supposed to make your captor see you as a person. Hell, how am I exactly going to do that when I resemble a blindfolded bukkake still life? I can't move, and even my grunts are going unnoticed.

He's moving away. Sounds like he's going towards the kitchen. I can hear the pitch of his steps changing as he walks onto the tiles. Yup, kitchen. Time to have a good go at trying to wriggle out of these ropes. Nope. Not working, too tight, damn this idiot for being a good boy scout with his knots. What next? How about tipping the chair over? Hmm then I'll just be on the floor tied and gagged. Maybe he'll untie me, if he wants to rape me or whatever then he'll have to untie me from the chair. That's the plan, when he starts to let me up from the chair I'll fight like hell.

“Ahh much better, nothing like a cool drink. Y'know. Even flowers need water. They need water, and food...”

What's that sound? Metal against metal. What is it? Scissors?

“...and they even need pruning”

His rank breath puffed on my skin as he leaned closer. Yup, scissors. He was touching the blade to the shoulder strap of my nightie, the cold metal rested against my skin as he cut.

Snip

“Just a little bit of pruning makes all the difference, makes the flowers even prettier”

Snip

More chill air on my skin as he cut the second strap of my nightie. Oh god, now I'm bearing my breasts to him. Dammit, hurry up and untie me so I can escape. My nipples always get very hard with a bit of cool air on them. I wonder if he thinks I'm a willing partner, he might not be so hard on me if he does think that. I hope he sees my hard nipples and thinks I want him. Christ I want to get out of this.

“Pity you can't sing for me now. I'd liked hearing you sing. But all flowers wither and die.”

Eeww tracing his grimy fingers down my neck. If I could see I'm sure I'd see a dirty smudge trailing down my neck and following his fingers as they moved over my breasts. Pruning? This man is a nutter.

“Ok then, if you won't sing for me I'll just prune you out and get another rose”

He was hoisting something heavy in front of me, I could hear something metallic opening slowly. Ohh shit.

“Yup the garden shears, time to cut you down to size”