As Olivia ventured deeper into the haunted house, she noticed that it seemed to start brimming with plant-life, gorgeous flowers that seemed to breathe a new lease of life into what had been such a dark, claustrophobic setting. It was only when she entered a large, garden-like open space that she realised that she had unknowingly been separated from her friends. Before she had time to call back out to them, a group dressed as zombies sprang forth from the surrounding foliage and apprehended her. She had no time to react or even cry out for help as she was stripped naked and thrust onto a table at the centre of the thriving garden. The moment she was held down on it, she realised that the garden itself wasn’t simply a prop, it was pulsating with life; the greenery seemed to undulate as if breathing in and out. The movement above, with the rhythmic churning of branches and petals, almost hypnotised the naked girl for a moment, though the realisation that the hands were no longer what kept her held down brought her back to reality.
Olivia had not even noticed that the figures around her had disappeared, instead it was the vines themselves which closed in around her, making her feel trapped, while vines coiled around her body to keep her held in place.
Somehow she didn’t feel anxious or afraid, merely relaxed and, to her surprise, astonishingly aroused. While she had merely disclosed ‘other’ as her fantasy scenario on the waiver form, she had never pictured this as what they’d have in store for her. It wouldn’t be until much later that she’d realise that the plants themselves had taken away all sense of fear and trepidation, filling the air with an extremely potent aphrodisiac. Simply, she was at the mercy of the living plant-life’s wicked intentions the moment she entered.
The plants met no resistance as they probed and teased her, relishing at the arousal that was so evident. Even the slightest touch which fluttered along her chest and between her inner thighs caused her to moan in joy, though the moment the petals crept across towards her own flower, her fate was sealed. The substance that caused the flowers to flourish was what started to trail from her the more aroused she grew. The aphrodisiac she was constantly breathing in caused for her to be extremely wet even before the manipulations of her body, yet the delicate touches caused her sweet nectar to gush forth rapidly. The vines felt so soft, unlike any plant life she could imagine, though the flowers themselves are what devastated her body. The petals felt like the softest, most luxurious silk. Every time they brushed across her breasts and along her mound, it was as if a thousand of the softest bristles covered in the slickest of oils caressed every fibre of skin; pure electric pleasure coursed along every morsel it touched. Once it wrapped around her stiffened nipples, she screamed out in pleasure. The feeling of that alone nearly sent her over the edge. Though with how good it felt already, she salivated at the thought of how it was going to feel when it focused on her clitoris. It seemed to sense this and opted to merely tease that little jewel. It crept and slithered those tormenting petals around her sex, exposing that erect little button and circling all around it without touching directly. It kept her on this knife edge of perfect pleasure while she rocked her hips in unbearable need.
Once she began begging, wondering whether it could understand her, it brushed occasionally along her clit directly, causing her to jolt as if zapped by a current. An electric shock of pure pleasure that made her feel as if she’d die if it dared suffocate her with such a sensation for any longer than the millisecond it gave her. On and on this torment continued as her sex dripped, letting the flowers slip along her entrance, daring to push inside and explore, but always just teasing and stopping. She still could not fathom whether it could understand her, as she kept screaming out and begging for more to no response or change. Little did she know that the flowers wanted to keep their most desired source dripping constantly from her, and the way to make that last, from years and years of experience, was to keep its prey from coming for as long as possible. Olivia’s tears and pleas for mercy would go unheeded as her clitoris pulsed and her entrance convulsed in torturous need.
It would take hours before the girl would experience her first orgasm, once she stopped pulling against the vines and screaming for release. She’d be shocked by the petals suddenly cradling her tender clitoris, causing her to squeal in what felt to be an unending fit of ecstasy. The substance she breathed in, which kept her aroused beyond comprehension, would also prevent her from passing out, keeping her trapped in this agonising hell of an orgasm which would not yield. Her body writhed and strained in all manner of ways to escape the pleasure, yet nothing would protect her or cease the flower holding her clitoris hostage. As it sank around that stiff bud like a predator sinking it’s teeth into it’s meal, the tiny cilia within the flower would wreak havoc upon it. Each minuscule cilium brushed and vibrated against her clitoris as if each were designed to torture every little nerve ending within that sensitivity. Once her body finally came down, she would wonder how she was still alive, feeling as if she had been unable to breath since the moment she’d come.
“Oh God! Please, not again, ” she would sob once the flowers began to explore her depths, starting the whole process all over again.
It would only stop, however, once the flowers could not feed any longer on their desired substance. This poor, gorgeous figure of sexuality would be tortured this way for the whole night, while all the other friends searched fruitlessly, ready to face what lay ahead for them. Perhaps they’d have turned back if they could hear her screams.
Content created by: PleasureTorture
Image source from: xxxtremecomixxx