The Garden of Secret Delights

She sits down on the edge of the bed and picks up the flute. It smells rich and intoxicating, like champagne maybe. She had champagne once, six months ago on her 18^th birthday, and loved the way it left her feeling free and easy. Despite this she hesitates. Who left it for her? Maybe it's drugged?

Regardless of her fears, she feels compelled to drink it. In for a penny in for a pound as they say. The champagne is wickedly powerful leaving her feeling dizzy.

Running a hand over the bed the solitary fitted sheet does feel warm and inviting. The champagne, if that is what it is, makes her feel so very sleepy. The words come back to her now from the note that flew into her window earlier.

To be showered in love follow the lighted path to the end; and once there-- hold a dark rose close to your heart allowing it to fill with many amorous delights.

Finally, as an ultimate act of surrender, strike quiet repose in a soft bed of roses only to awaken in the fires of forbidden bliss that burn bright within your soul.

Determined to follow her destiny to the bitter end she plucks the darkest red rose she can find from a nearby bush that hangs over the bed. She carefully tears off the green stem so just the head of the rose and a bit of stem remain, and then she tucks the rose inside her bra—near her heart.

Now sooner does she do this than a stiff breeze blows across the small clearing carrying with it literally hundreds of pink and red roses petals. They land scattered about the bed here and there.

Now comes, as the note suggested, the final act of surrender. Christy lies down on the bed staring up at the quivering roses bushes that hang out over the bed. The bed is nice and firm, the pillow large and soft—just the way she likes.

The pink and red petals feel silky smooth against her bare thighs and tummy. The aroma permeating her bed is making her eyelids grow heavier by the second.

Staring at the pretty red and pink roses relaxes her. Christy wishes she was completely naked so she could feel these incredibly soft rose petals all over her body. It is to this dangerous thought that she dozes off.

Less than 10 minutes later her eyes flutter open. There is an air of anticipation surrounding her garden bed. Something is about to happen. She waits. One minute passes and then two. She is beginning to think maybe her nerves have deceived her and is closing her eyes once more on soft bed of roses—this is very apt term for now the bed has become overwhelmed with rose petals, along with a fair amount of green stems.

With her eyes now shut she doesn't notice the rose petals, the stems—they have both come alive on her bed and are writhing in anticipation. The perfumed scent of the roses is so strong that she feels like she has been drugged.

The thought of being drugged scares her, but soon is replaced by more pressing matters. There is a soft persistent tickling on her ankle. She yanks her foot back, startled, before realizing she just simply moved her foot and it had grazed up against one of the smooth green rose stems that are strewn everywhere about the bed.

Curiously, she notices the amount of rose petals sprinkled so generously all about the bed now seems to have at least doubled-- if not more. A cool draft stirs the rose petals to action blowing them into a lovely pink and red whirlwind.

But there is more happening than just that cyclone of pink and red rose petals blowing about. She feels the bottom of both feet being tickled as a pair of slithering green stems have snaked their way inside her heels.

Her mind is reeling-- Jesus is this really happening-- as she jerks her feet back. The stems break contact momentarily before several of them, like hot-wired snakes, follow her feet and attack again.

She must try to escape, before it's too late! Something very, very weird is happening. She tries to raise herself off the bed, but the scent of all these wonderful roses have left her feeling drugged to the point where she hasn't the strength to lift herself.

Collapsing back against the pillow, Christy feels a maddening tickle over both of her feet and ankles and then looks down in time to see a mass of very much alive green stems creeping all over her bare arms and thighs in a wriggling mass tickling her purposefully.

Fighting off the dizzy feeling of her rose induced intoxication she makes one final effort to escape from her bed. She lifts her body up and off the bed and is about to swing her feet onto the floor when three long thick stems wind around her each of her wrists.

The stems yank her back viciously onto the bed. Gasping in alarm, Christy sees the three stems wrapped around each wrist have all tied themselves somehow to other green stems, which in turn have knotted themselves around yet more stems forming a taunt rope of sorts.

Christy is just starting to appreciate her predicament. She twists her head around just in time to see just see each end of the tied stems dangling from her wrists quickly wrapping themselves around a corner post of the bed. Both her wrists are helplessly bound to the corner posts of the bed, just as a pair of stems wrap around both of her ankles giving it the same treatment as her wrists.

In a mere matter of seconds, she finds herself tied by the green stems spread eagle to the bed. She is utterly helpless. She uses the last of her strength to try and free herself, but her struggles are to no avail. The stems are holding fast.

More fiendish delights await the poor girl. The rose petals surround her body on all sides seemingly waiting for something just as a pair of green stems come slithering up through the throng of pink and red petals. The gathering of pink and red rose petals that are surrounding her on all sides all seem to be quivering in anticipation of something.

The stems glide their wait up and onto her breasts converging on the pretty decorative that accents the front of her bra.

MY GOD!!! They . . . they are trying to undo my bra!! The undeniable truth hits her like a slap in the face sending sparks of what-- terror maybe, shock definitely, and yes an underlying current of excitement-- coursing through her body.

And even more amazing is the way all of the other rose petals have gathered around her chest in a haphazard circle of sorts-- seemingly watching the action with bated breath.

The two stems continue to struggle with the tie of her bra, twisting around and around the knotted tie trying to undo it. Of course, it does not come undone—the tie is only decorative.

Christy, maybe overconfident that the stupid stems think the tie is the key to undoing her bra, actually whispers aloud, "Ha!! Stupid stems can't get my bra undone huh can you?"

Scarcely does the soft whispered taunt escape her lips than does the stems unwrap themselves from the tie and instead hook themselves around the front edges of her bra cups and give a tremendous yank.

Like a ripple going through a large crowd at a football game after the home team scores the winning touchdown, all the rose petals gathered around seem to shake and quiver at the same time as her large tits come spilling out of the front of her bra.

Christy looks down in wonder amazed by what she thinks she sees. She looks closer. It's undeniable. After, most amazingly enough those stems purposefully yanked her bra down allowing her extra-large tits to come spilling out, she noticed something. It was simply indisputable that her tits were now actually bigger than before she started this adventure. Somehow, someway they have seemingly grown . . . and grown . . . and grown some more since she entered the magical garden.

The memory of those whispered warnings from the servants now come floating back to her as she stares down at her magically big tits-- Things grow unnaturally large in that garden.

But now she has much more to worry about than her magically growing breasts. At first she thinks she must be imagining it; faint whispers coming from the throng of rose petals that are barely audible, yet wholly unmistakable.

Not surprisingly, the "voices" of the beautiful rose petals are soft and soothing; velvety, smooth and gentle. Oh and the words they are speaking!! Words of praise and adulation coming from her hundreds of tiny new found admirers make her heart race.

Again is it her imagination getting the best of her? Maybe she is intoxicated much more than she can imagine from the perfumed scent of the hundreds of rose petals scattered all over her bed and on her body.

If these muted whispers are indeed reality what praises they sing of her breasts. She hears, or presumes to hear, such whispered words as titanic, colossal, and maybe even enormous which she concludes are meant to pay homage to her tits now immense size.

There is more whispered praise to be heard though as still others of the petals are whispering such words as exquisite, splendid, elegant and flawless which are ringing endorsements to the sheer beauty of her tits.

Then as if all that whispered praise was not enough to get her heart racing she sees --Yes, Oh God yes, they are advancing. Christy deems it impossible, but true. The muffled voices of the petals have grown silent as they stealthily approach her majestic mountains from all sides -- then they all collectively, as if with one mind, stop.

There is a long pregnant pause as her chest slowly rises and falls, her virgin nipples growing erect from their pending fate, she senses is about to fall upon them-- and oh what a lovely impossible exquisite fate it may be she prays.

The petals indeed seem to be waiting as they surround her tits on all sides. She happens to glance around at the bed and sees, like late stragglers to a rock concert, there are still a few petals making their way off the bed and up onto her nearly naked body trying to find a perch where ever they can.

But it is difficult for nearly every inch of her bare skin on the upper part of her body is thronged with the silken petals. They cover both her shoulders and her arms all the way down to her wrists. Once or twice she had tried twisting her arms in a futile attempt to shake them off of her. Some of the petals would fall off, while others, it seemed, clung to her arms for dear life.

It mattered little in the end, for the petals that she did manage to shake off only hopped back up onto her arms as soon as she stopped struggling. Seeing her struggles are barely worth the effort she gives up.

The entirety of her flat tummy is covered with a virtual storm of pink and red petals all huddled in the shadows of those mighty twin peaks that are seemingly the focus of all their attentions.

Waiting in wild anticipation she imagines just above the swell of her breasts she can see dozens of petals gathered about covering her skin like a velvety blanket.

Down

Then there are the unfortunate ones-- the few dozen or so rose petals that could not find a place close so they have taken up domain upon her lovely thighs. Or maybe they are not so unfortunate, but instead only early to the party as they crowd the edges of her panties . . . waiting.

At first it is a mere trickle of pink and red rose petals that shyly quiver and flutter their way down from above and into the deep valley between her tits. She watches with bated breath, lying perfect still, her breasts fully exposed as the half dozen green steamed fingers continue to grip her pretty blue bra making sure the gateway to her abundant tits stays open.

She watches as three or four of the petals, apparently feeling brave, take a leap of faith and dive into the great divide between her tits. Struggling like a pair of lonely mountain climbers, she watches as they make their way slowly up the sides in a heroic effort to reach the summit of her mighty twin peaks. Their struggles up the sides of her tits are like a soft maddeningly tickle. A tickle she wants to feel more of as a wicked idea seizes her mind.

The rose petals seem almost shy. Almost like they have a "let's look, but not touch" attitude that is driving her wild with pent up desire. Pent up desire because she cannot help but to notice how everywhere on her bare skin that these enchanted petals have alighted there is a feeling like the soft caress of silky smooth kisses that feels so very good.

At first, it was maybe only a deeply repressed feeling that she was slow to acknowledge, but the fact is now-- Oh God, yes now-- she wants, very, very badly, to feel that loving soft caress of rose petals all over her ultra -sensitive and love starved tits.

It was this thought she supposed that started the coming avalanche. This thought that caused her with a mighty jerk to thrust her upper body higher as much as her green stemmed bonds would allow and shake her tits thus causing a spillage of red and pink rose petals down and into the valley between her breasts. She thinks of doing it again, of a second bold thrust to get the ball rolling even more, but the first try seems to be having the desired effect.

The dozen or so petals she managed to spill down and in between her tits are now all scrambling up the sides of her boobs to reach the pinnacle. She imagines they may have been encouraged by the efforts of those first three or four hardy brave souls that are now perched on top of her tits quivering and quaking, i.e. showing off for the massed throng below, that they, the brave few, the lucky few, have scaled the mighty twins peaks of Mt. St. Christine.

What started as a paltry few, and then turned into a trickle, has now turned into a virtual cascade of petals rushing on downwards into her cleavage. In mere seconds her substantial cleavage is quickly filled to the brim with dozens upon dozens of mad scrambling rose petals causing the fortunate ones on top to easily spill out sideways and onto her tits.

Seeing the tumultuous action above them seems to causes a ripple of excitement to run through the crowd below on her belly. She watches and sees the cascade has now turned into a wild mad deluge as the petals are coming from everywhere now-- swarming down from her shoulders, leaping across from her arms, scrambling wildly from her tummy upwards to mob her tits.

And my dear God what a feeling it is!! The sensation she is experiencing all over her breasts is nothing short of extraordinary. It's as if she was being caressed by hundreds of light tickling fingers.

She looks down at her chest. Her tits are completely covered with these deliciously wicked rose petals. She smiles to herself as it almost appears that she is wearing a red and pink bra of quivering rose petals.

She wants to lay her head back against the pillow and surrender to this indescribable feeling of being touched by hundreds of light cloying fingertips, but out of sheer curiosity she doesn't as she rightly senses there is much more to see.

Her curiosity comes from the simple fact thus far her poor nipples are totally lacking in attention. They are fully erect, jutting up like a pair of untouched crown jewels, just waiting to be discovered, but as of yet the petals have formed a perfectly bare circle around them.

She can only wonder why she is being withheld the delight of having them caressed like the rest of her breasts. Soon the soft soothing touch of fingers caressing her tits give way to an even more joyful delight: she now has the sensation of the trembling petals all applying a smattering of light airy kisses all over her tits.

She looks down with wide staring eyes, her entire body quivering from the sensation, goosebumps breaking all up and down her arms at this wonderful onslaught of kisses continues unabated.

The kisses are soon co-mingled with a mixture of the tender nibbles and moist honey suckled licks from her new best friends-- these wonderfully magical rose petals.

Even the unfortunate congregation of rose petals that could not make it for sheer lack of space up onto her breasts and were stuck below on her tummy now join in on the fun. They start to move all about as they apply soft nibbles and licks all over her bare defenseless tummy.

Since it's not so crowded down on her tummy, these bewitched petals have room to roam the vast tanned expanse of her tummy and roam they do. She watches the dozen or so petals on her abdomen with lidded eyes as they turn, circle, wheel and then rotate back leaving no spot on her belly untouched.

She completely surrenders, closing her eyes and letting herself go just as the first soft moan escapes from her lips. Unknown to her, there is, undiscovered all along the edges of her body, a reserve body of petals waiting for just such a moment. Just waiting for her to surrender which is their signal to attack!!

They rush up and on to her body en mass. The ones towards the lower half of the bed scamper up and on to her yet to be explored legs, while the other petals, the ones towards the upper part of her body, find a home exploring her neck and throat.

Another moan as she finds her hypersensitive neck and throat, along with her lean muscular legs, being subjugated to the same maddening treatment as the rest of her body.

Christy is on the verge of sheer sensory overload from this new onslaught of kisses. Shutting her eyes even tighter, she makes a fervent wish aloud. "Oh God, please, please my beauties stop ignoring my nipples."

No sooner do the words trip out of her mouth than her wish is granted. Two of the green rose stems scattered haphazardly all over her enchanted bed spring into action-- seemingly they were only waiting for the right moment-- a moment her impassioned wish has brought down upon her.

The stems wind their way purposefully up onto her body and then make a bee line straight to her chest. The slither, one a piece, up the side of her tits. Their slithering touch causes her to raise her head up and watch as the stems converge on her nipples.

The ends of the stems begin to flick delicately at her distended nipples back and forth in perfect unison with one another. Another small moan escapes her lips as her nipples grow achingly hard from the attentions of these light flicks.

The flickering madness continues until the she is squirming against the green ties that trap her helplessly. The rose petals have all fallen silent as they seem to be watching the two lucky stems that were chosen to tease her gorgeously erect nipples to extreme hardness.

The brief silence of the rose petals is broken as in exact harmony they all come alive. They start quivering and quacking like before, but this time, Oh God this time, they do not ignore her nipples. The petals aggressively swarm all over them by the dozens, each giving her nipples a procession of gentle kisses and licks as they pass over.

Even better is now the rest of the petals covering her body all have come to life once again. They shake and quiver while staying in place applying kiss after light butterfly kiss wherever they rest--which is everywhere.

Her open thighs all the way to the edge of her panties are covered with the swirling petals as is her tummy. Then all of a sudden it all stops. The petals lay silent. Still. Waiting.

The green stems that first attacked her nipples have stolen away. Christy opens her eyes as the sensations assaulting her body have stopped. She wonders why and then sees the answer.

Like a pair of green rivers meandering their way down from a twin pair of majestic mountains, and then onto the fruited plains, the stems part the clustered multitudes of petals flowing softly, steadily, silently to their final destination—the moist valley that lies between her legs.

The young girl gazes at the scene, barely allowing herself to breathe as the tickling green stemmed rivers follow parallel paths. They are now approaching the mid-point of her belly and in response the previously quiet rose petals are starting to come alive once more. The palpitations are slight, but noticeable.