Ropes and Roses Pt. 01

I LOVE flowers. Like, obsessively love them. Roses, in particular--sensual, dangerous, beautiful. Just like the kind of pain and pleasure I crave.

And my boyfriend? He knows exactly how to feed my desires.

So when he whispered, "Be ready by nine. No panties. No questions." I knew I was in for something sinful.

But I wasn't prepared for just how far he'd take me.

When he led me into the room, my breath hitched. It wasn't just candlelight and petals. It was coils of thick rope, waiting for me. A blindfold. A gag. A crop. And roses--deep red and wickedly sharp.

"I know how much you love flowers, baby. So tonight... I'm turning you into one."

I nearly dropped to my knees right then.

But he wasn't letting me off that easy.

"Strip."

I obeyed. Slowly. Seductively. Watching his eyes darken as I bared myself to him.

Then the ropes came.

Thick hemp wrapped around my body, tight and merciless, binding my arms behind me, cinching across my chest so tightly that my breath came in shallow gasps. Each knot a claim, each pull a test of my submission.

By the time he was done, I was helpless--arms twisted behind me, legs bound apart, my skin burning where the rope bit into me. Completely exposed. Completely owned.

And then? He added the roses.

Petals brushed over my bare skin--a teasing contrast to the brutal tightness of the ropes. But then--thorns. Tiny, biting pricks of pain against my breasts, my thighs, my inner wrists. A warning. A promise.

"You look so fucking pretty like this," he murmured, pressing a single thorn against my nipple. I whimpered, my back arching as sharp pain shot through me. My pussy clenched around nothing.

Then came the blindfold.

Then the gag--a ball stuffed between my lips, forcing my mouth open, my moans muffled.

I was nothing but sensation now.

Then the first slap.

Hard. Unforgiving. Across my inner thigh.

I jerked against the bindings, a strangled moan spilling around the gag.

Then another. Harder. Meaner.

Every sharp sting sent fire rushing between my legs, every brutal smack making my body ache for him. But I wasn't in control. He was.

"Poor thing," he cooed, dragging a single rose petal along my swollen lips. "You're dripping already."

Shame and arousal tangled in my gut.

Then his mouth was on me--hot, demanding, merciless. Teeth scraping against rope-marked skin, sucking, biting, devouring.

And just when I was on the edge of breaking, when I was so desperate to be fucked that I would have begged if I could--he pushed something inside me.

Not his cock.

Not his fingers.

A rose stem.

Thorns still intact.

I screamed.

Pleasure and pain collided so violently that I saw stars, my body shaking as he twisted the stem inside me, the sharp points pressing against my most sensitive flesh.

"Take it," he growled. "Be my little thorned rose."

Tears burned beneath the blindfold. I had never been so wrecked. So used. So desperate.

Then--finally--he ripped the rose out and replaced it with his cock.

Fucking. Ruining. Owning.

By the time he finally untied me, my body was wrecked--marked with red rope burns, tiny thorn scratches, and the deep ache of being utterly destroyed.

I collapsed against him, shaking, gasping, ruined. And he kissed my forehead like he hadn't just made me his filthy, helpless plaything.

"Happy Valentine's Day, my little rose."

And I knew, with absolute certainty--I would never belong to anyone else.

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I lay against him, wrecked, ruined, trembling--my body a masterpiece of rope burns, thorn scratches, and the ache of being utterly taken.

His fingers idly traced the rope marks on my thighs, his other hand buried in my hair, tugging, pulling, reminding me that I was still his.

"You think we're done?"

My stomach dropped. My body betrayed me, clenching at his words.

"You look so beautiful when you're broken," he murmured against my ear, his breath hot, teasing.

I knew that voice. That mocking, cruel voice.

The one that meant he wasn't satisfied.

The one that meant I wasn't getting mercy tonight.

I whimpered, trying to turn away, but he grabbed my chin, forcing my gaze to his.

"Run."

My breath hitched.

"You want to be a good girl? Want to beg for my cock?" His grip tightened. "Then fucking run."

The order was clear. Obey or be punished.

Every fiber of my being screamed to obey. My legs were weak, my body already wrecked, but the second he let me go--I stumbled toward the door, my heart pounding, every inch of my skin burning from what was about to happen.

I knew he was following.

I knew he would catch me.

I knew he would make me pay for trying.

But that was the game.

I barely made it down the hall before his hand snapped around my wrist, yanking me back with brutal force.

"Did you really think you could escape me?"

He spun me, slammed me against the wall. My gasp turned into a moan as my naked skin pressed against the cold surface, my body fully exposed, fully vulnerable.

His hand was on my throat now, squeezing, claiming, denying me air.

"You stupid, stupid girl."

A rough slap landed on my ass--sharp, mean, possessive.

Another.

And another.

I shook, the pain curling into pleasure, my body arching despite the fight I pretended to put up.

"Look at you," he growled. "Acting like you don't want this. But your body tells the truth, doesn't it?"

His fingers trailed between my legs--finding me soaked, desperate, begging without words.

He laughed. Humiliating. Cruel. Knowing.

"You're so fucking wet. You're pathetic."

I whimpered, my thighs trembling as he forced them apart, pressing his knee between them.

"Tell me to stop." His voice was dark, dangerous, full of wicked temptation. "Tell me you don't want this, and I'll walk away."

But we both knew the truth.

I wasn't going to stop him.

I didn't want him to stop.

So I stayed silent.

And silence was permission.

The moment I refused to say no, he broke me.

His hand snapped into my hair, yanking my head back as he slammed into me from behind--deep, brutal, unforgiving.

I screamed, my body convulsing, helpless against his violent thrusts.

He fucked me like he hated me, like I was nothing but his to use.

His fingers dug into my hips, bruising, owning, controlling. Every thrust forced my body against the wall, my breasts crushed against the cold surface, my moans turning into ragged, incoherent sobs.

I tried to move. He forced me still.

I tried to close my legs. He shoved them apart.

I tried to breathe. His hand tightened on my throat.

"Where's that fight now?" he mocked. "You like being ruined, don't you?"

I sobbed out something between a moan and a yes.

He laughed again--so dark, so satisfied.

"Fucking say it."

"I--I like it," I gasped. Completely shattered.

"You like what?"

"Being ruined--being yours."

He groaned, slamming into me harder, his control slipping.

"Say it again."

"I'm yours. Only yours."

That was all he needed.

With a brutal growl, he dragged me back, threw me onto the bed, flipped me onto my back, and took me all over again.

Over.

And over.

And over.

By the time he was done, I was marked, dripping, trembling.

His.

Forever.

And I had never loved him more.

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I lay sprawled on the bed, gasping for air, still trembling from the force of what Evan had just done to me.

But then... we heard it.

A sharp gasp.

I turned my head sluggishly, still dazed from the night's relentless pleasure, my body too weak to move.

And then I saw her.

Leah.

My best friend.

She stood frozen in the doorway, eyes wide, lips parted in shock. Her gaze flickered from the red rope marks decorating my skin to the sweat-drenched sheets, my trembling body, Evan's dominant stance over me.

"Oh... my... God," she breathed.

The room was thick with the scent of sex and roses, the dim lighting casting a sultry glow over everything--the silk blindfold still in Evan's hands, the scattered rope coils, the rose petals stuck to my flushed, sweaty skin.

I saw it immediately--not just shock, but something deeper, darker, more curious in her eyes.

She was intrigued.

Evan smirked, catching it too.

"She wasn't supposed to see this," I whispered, still breathless.

"Maybe," he murmured, "but she's clearly not looking away."

Leah's breath hitched. She should've run. She should've covered her eyes, should've screamed or stormed out.

But she didn't.

She stayed.

Her eyes flicked to the ropes again, her throat moving as she swallowed hard.

"You... you like this?" she finally choked out.

I felt heat rush through me--a wicked thrill that she'd found out. That she'd seen me like this. Destroyed. Marked. Owned.

"I don't just like it," I murmured, my voice still shaking. "I love it."

Her lips parted, her breathing uneven.

Then Evan spoke. His voice was silk and steel, dominant and knowing.

"Do you want to try?"

Leah's entire body shuddered.

Her eyes snapped to mine, uncertain, wild, hungry.

"I... I don't--"

Evan tilted his head, stepping closer to her, his presence commanding, intoxicating.

"You don't have to," he said smoothly. "But don't lie to yourself, Leah. You're curious. You want to know how it feels, don't you?"

I saw the conflict raging in her--nervous, intrigued, hesitant, desperate.

She swallowed. "I... I don't know what to do."

I sat up--my limbs sore, my body still burning from the night's sins. But I reached for her hand, my fingers grazing over her trembling ones.

"You don't have to do anything," I murmured. "But if you want this... we'll take care of you."

Her eyes darted between us. Trust. Lust. Fear. Craving.

Then--she nodded.

"Good girl," Evan purred.

The moment she agreed, she was ours.

Evan moved fast, stepping behind her, his hands firm on her hips, pulling her back against him. She gasped at the contact, her whole body stiffening--but she didn't pull away.

He kissed the side of her neck, his voice dark, teasing. "We'll go slow."

Then he turned to me.

"Strip her."

A shiver ran down my spine.

Leah whimpered as I stepped in front of her, my fingers curling around the hem of her shirt.

I looked into her wide, vulnerable eyes. "Are you sure?"

She nodded, breathless, flushed.

I peeled off her shirt slowly, my nails grazing her soft skin as I exposed her perfect, trembling body.

Evan grabbed her wrists from behind, pulling them behind her back, his lips ghosting over her ear.

"You're shaking, sweetheart," he murmured.

Leah exhaled sharply, overwhelmed by the dominance of it all.

I unclasped her bra, her nipples already hard, her skin covered in goosebumps.

"She's sensitive," I noted, smirking.

Evan chuckled. "Oh, we're going to have so much fun with you."

I knelt, my fingers curling into the waistband of her jeans. I slid them down, down, exposing her silky black panties, already damp.

Evan dragged his fingers down her arms, down her sides, down to her thighs, feeling how she quivered under his touch.

"You're already wet," he murmured.

Leah gasped, trying to squeeze her thighs together.

Evan didn't let her.

He grabbed a coil of rope and bound her wrists together, his knots tight, unforgiving, perfect.

She let out a soft moan, her head tilting back onto his shoulder.

"She likes the ropes," I whispered, watching fascinated as he twisted her body in his grasp.

"She's going to love them," he corrected.

Then he pushed her onto the bed--face down, ass up.

She gasped, her bound arms twisting behind her.

I straddled her back, my lips brushing against her ear. "Let me show you how good this can be."

Then the blindfold went on.

The first slap landed on her ass.

She moaned--loudly.

Then another.

Then another.

Evan smirked. "I think we just found a new little toy."

And that night, Leah learned exactly how much she had been missing.

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Leah and I had no idea how long we had been tied together. Hours? A lifetime? A fever dream where pleasure and pain blurred into one?

The ropes were merciless. Tight. Unforgiving. They dug into our flesh, pressing deep into soft curves and trembling muscles, framing us as masterpieces of submission.

Evan had taken his time, weaving an intricate web of knots, suspending us in the air, side by side, helpless in the way we both craved.

Our arms were twisted behind our backs, the rope cinching between our wrists and elbows, pressing our bodies forward, vulnerable, exposed. Thick coils wrapped around our chests, crisscrossing over our breasts, pushing them up taut and aching.

We were bound together--our legs locked at the thighs, our ankles tied apart, stretched wide, making escape impossible.

Suspended like prey. Displayed like works of art.

I could feel Leah's rapid breathing, her body shaking against mine, her nipples brushing against my skin with every desperate gasp.

She was so new to this, so overwhelmed--but she didn't want it to stop.

Neither did I.

Evan's hands traced the ropes, testing their tension, admiring the marks they left behind.

"You both look fucking exquisite," he murmured, dragging a finger along my stomach, tracing the rope as if memorizing every inch of my torment.

Then, he pulled out the cane.

The first strike landed across my stomach. A sharp, biting line of fire that made me jolt.

Leah screamed when the second blow landed on her inner thigh.

Evan's dark chuckle sent a shiver down my spine.

"So responsive," he mused, tapping the cane against our bodies, deciding where to strike next. "We're going to have so much fun tonight."

Then, the door opened.

I froze. Leah whimpered against me, still lost in the haze of pain and pleasure.

And then I heard their voices.

Maya and Chris.

Two of my closest friends.

"What the fuck...?" Maya's breath hitched as she stepped into the room.

Chris let out a low, appreciative whistle.

"Damn. This is fucking beautiful."

I tried to lift my head, but the ropes kept me still, kept me exposed. The heat in my face burned hotter than the marks blooming across my body.

Maya took a slow, shaky step forward, her eyes darting over the scene--the suspended ropes, the bruises, the deep red lines from Evan's cane, the way Leah and I were bound together like living art.

"You... like this?" she whispered, her voice tinged with both disbelief and curiosity.

I swallowed, every nerve alight with humiliation and arousal. "I... I love it."

Her sharp inhale was almost drowned out by Chris's low chuckle.

"Fuck, Maya. Look at them." He stepped closer, dragging his fingers along the ropes, testing the tightness, the cruelty, the craftsmanship. "This is fucking stunning."

Evan smirked. "They're ours tonight."

Leah trembled beside me, her breath coming in shallow pants. Maya's fingers hesitantly reached out, brushing over my exposed skin, lingering over the burning welts left by the cane.

"You really... want this?" she asked again, her voice hushed.

A wicked thrill shot through me.

I nodded. "I want more."

Maya's lips parted slightly, and I saw it in her darkening eyes.

She wanted it too.

Evan smirked. "Then let's make this even more fun."

Maya & Chris Join the Dark Side

The ropes came fast and tight.

Maya's wrists were jerked behind her back, her arms pulled together until her elbows nearly touched. A thick harness was woven across her chest, ropes digging into her soft flesh, pushing her breasts up just like ours.

She whimpered as Chris yanked a knot tight, his fingers brushing against her nipples just to tease.

Then, Evan turned to Chris.

"You too."

Chris didn't hesitate.

His shirt was ripped off, his muscular arms forced behind him, bound as tightly as Maya's. More ropes wrapped around his chest, pinning him helplessly between us.

Maya's breath shook as she looked at him--helpless, restrained, vulnerable in a way she had never seen him before.

And then... the real torture began.

Evan's whip cracked against Chris's stomach.

He groaned, his body tensing against the ropes.

Maya moaned, her thighs clenching together at the sight of him taking the pain.

Evan grinned darkly. "I think I just found a new favorite game."

We were all bound. All helpless. All marked for destruction.