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Cin's Stories

Feathers by Cin


Click..."Yes?" A metallic voice sounds through the speaker in the doorway. I juggle the box on my hip and reach for the response button.

"I have a delivery for this address?"

"Great! Would you mind bringing it on up, please?"

Zzzzzzzzzrt. The front door opens, seemingly on it's own. Walking in, my heels click across an immense tiled entry way, the black marble floor reflecting the chandelier like a mirror. Off in the distance, I hear soft piano music, rising in crescendo as the concerto ends, then softly, music begins again and I recognize 'Emmanuel', one of my very favorite Christmas carols.

"Hello-o-o?" My voice, husky from a recent sore throat, echoes through the vestibule.

"In here, if you wouldn't mind?" a voice, deep and masculine, calls back.

"In where? Where are you?"

"Up the stairs, to the left and follow the sound of my voice"

I'm awestruck as I move towards the sweeping stairway, my high heels making sharp staccato sounds until I step onto the deep, plush carpet. I readjust the awkward, but strangely light box onto my other hip, careful not to crease my dress. At the top of the stairs, I turn left and head down the longest hallway I'd ever seen.

"Hello?" Now the sound of my voice is muffled by the walls and carpet.

"This way. I'm in the guest room. 3rd door on your right." The voice sounds strained and I wonder what I will find as I turn into the doorway.

"Finally! That phone is connected at last!" I see legs protruding from behind drapes, then a body wiggles backwards, inch by inch.

"Ahem..." I clear my throat to announce my presence. "Normally, I would have just left this at the door, but it specifically said to hand deliver, with a bonus to be given when I return the signed receipt. If you wouldn't mind... ? I'm in a bit of a rush... on my way to a Christmas party... that's why I'm dressed like this... it's not my normal uniform, but my boss said it was fine, since this was my last stop... of... the... day..."

I can hear myself rambling on, nerves taking over as little by little he comes into view and I cannot tear my eyes away. Long legs, but not too long. Muscular chest, but not overdone. Strong arms, just perfect. Soon, I find myself staring into the most intoxicating eyes I've ever seen. Words seems to pour out and I am unable to stop them or edit their content, since my mind is no longer in control.

"We thought that it might be more festive to deliver in 'party clothes' anyway. So far, I've gotten three $5 tips and a fruitcake. Know anyone who would like some fruitcake?"

He sits on the floor, one leg drawn under him, one knee bent with his hand resting on it, a screwdriver in the other. Drop dead gorgeous, my mind says and for a minute I wonder if I've said it out loud since he gives me a smile to make angels weep.

"You do look a bit more... festive? than the usual delivery service. I'll have to be sure to commend your office on it's decision to dress in a holiday theme. I know seeing you sure brought a lift to my... ahem... spirits." A crooked grin eases some of the tension I am feeling.

I self consciously smooth the front of my short, black cocktail dress. I wasn't really looking forward to going to the company party, especially without a date, but I had still dressed with care, my long hair twisted up in a french roll, nails freshly painted, Christmas red (of course), and just a little more attention to my makeup than usual. The time at the gym had paid off and my dress fit snugly in all the right places. I hadn't really thought about the possibility of meeting any of my delivery clients, but now I was glad I had taken the time to dress carefully.

"That was a compliment. I hope you don't mind me telling you, but you do look very attractive standing there with the light behind you, as if framing you. You must hear that a lot, though."

All of a sudden, he jumps up from the floor..."Where are my manners? Let me take that box from you."

Handing him the box, and at the same time reaching for the delivery slip attached to the top, our hands brush and electricity runs up my arm. True electricity.

"Ouch! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shock you! That was certainly a tingle, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was. Must be from the static in the air from the storm."

Our eyes lock...

"Yes, it must be that."

Seconds tick by... somewhere in another part of the house a clock strikes the hour and breaks the mood.

"If you could just sign here? And here..." I point to the two lines he needs to sign and as he reaches for the pen I hand him, again our hands brush. This time, the electricity I feel is not from the storm outside, but from one inside. I end up with the box again, holding it steady so he can sign the release slip.

"Where would you like me to put the box?"

"Would you mind if I checked it's contents before you go? In case I need to return it?"

"No, not at all. Go ahead."

"Thank you. Here... why not sit here while I get a knife?"

I take the proffered chair, tugging my dress down unsuccessfully over my thighs. A dress made for dancing, standing, leaning, but NOT for sitting. In long strides, he walks across the bedroom to a desk and returns with a letter opener.

"I've been waiting for this to come. I was hoping to get it before the holidays. You have perfect timing."

The box is perched on my lap. He stands in front of me, blade in hand, gently sliding it in between the flaps and slowly cuts one end open, then the other. I sit, breathless, watching his fingers wrapped around the handle. A flash of light reflects off of the ring on his finger. A wedding ring, I assume. Forbidden fruit, then. Always my strongest attraction, my biggest weakness. His voice is seductively low in my ear as he concentrates on the contents of the box, hidden from my view by the open flap.

."... and these... ahhhh... yes... these are very special. The softest available. Perfect."

He draws a carefully wrapped parcel out of the box. Closing the lid, he lays his treasure on top of the box. His hands are almost level with my shoulders as he unwraps, ever so gently, one of the most exquisite feathers I had ever seen. Feathers? He removes the last layer of tissue and raises the feather to the light.

"Do you know how difficult it is to find these? They are the softest available, and only the best will do for my project." His voice is barely above a whisper, feathery soft, as if out of respect for the treasure in his hand.

His hands cradle the feather. A flutter of a thought... 'what would his hands feel like on my skin?' A blush heats my cheeks, and he looks into my eyes, as if reading my mind.

"It... umm... looks very soft."

"It is. Would you like to feel it?"

Frozen in my chair, I can only look at him. My heart skips a beat as he trails the feather down across my cheek. Softly. Slowly. Seductively.

Swallowing hard, I barely notice my clipboard fall to the floor. Across the other cheek, gently, he trails the feather. I shudder, feeling heat warming me, spreading throughout my body, bringing a blush to my face and fire to my eyes. Before I have a chance to think of the right or wrong of the situation, he leans forward and kisses me, softly at first, then building in intensity. I am at first stunned, then overtaken, by the passion in his kiss. Sometime, somehow, he removes the box from my lap, kneels in front of me and, taking my hands, pulls me to the carpet.

"Touch me."

Barely a whisper in my ear and yet, I can't help but respond. My hands seem to have a life of their own as they roam over his body, the muscles in his back, the tension in his arms as he leans over me. My hair has come undone and lies in a tumble of auburn curls. I whimper softly as he nibbles on my neck. My nails dig into the knot of muscle that is his back and he bites harder. My leg comes up between his and I can feel him, hard, thick, long against my thigh. He raises up to look into my half open eyes, a question in his. Looking at him, I feel a sudden surge of power. He is letting me know that it is my decision. He will not force me or take me against my will. I will have to admit to my own lust for him, for this total stranger, who doesn't even know my name.

Staring into his eyes, I nod.

"Say it. I want to hear the words. I have to know that this is what you want."

"Please?" My voice comes out strangled, strained, a hoarse whisper.

"Please? Please don't? Or please do?"

His breath is warm on my face and he smells of peppermint and after shave. I can barely breathe and my heart is racing as I contemplate what I am about to do. My mouth forms the words, but no sound comes out. Finally, I close my eyes and plunge.

"Please do."

He groans, then gathers me into his arms and renews his assault on my neck, at the same time running his hands over my body. I arch into him as he teases his hand over my breast. Now that I have made my decision, I can allow myself to participate. I move his fingers over my dress, find my nipple and guide him to pinch it, gently at first, then harder, and harder still, until I can stand it no longer. Reaching up to his face, I bring him down hard to my mouth, feeding off of his tongue.

I feel his hands under me, searching for the ties that crisscross my back, securing my dress. One hard yank and the ties are undone. I place a hand in the center of his chest, halting him.

"Wait. Let me."

He looks at me, not sure what to do. I gently push him to his side, then stand up. My dress has ridden high up my thighs, giving him a glimpse of the garter and stockings I had worn on a whim. Both black, they make a stark contrast against my pale skin. My hair tumbles over my shoulders, a mass of unruly curls, tangled from our wrestling. My lips are swollen from his kisses and my face is flushed. I stand about 2 feet away from him, with my legs slightly apart, enough to pull the hem of my dress tight against my legs. Leaning over and shrugging my shoulders, my dress begins to fall away from my breasts. I shimmy and more falls. He leans back to enjoy the show and I turn my back to him. I toss my hair so that it spills down my back and look over one shoulder at him. Arching forward, I sway my ass back and forth, again with my legs spread slightly, my high heels making my legs look even longer. I run my hands back over my cheeks and lift my dress in minute increments. When I can feel the hem reach the tops of my stockings, I stop and bend a little more forward, giving him a quick peek of my shaven pussy. There is moisture running down the inside of my legs and I slip a finger through the juice and around into my mouth, my eyes locked on his.

Wriggling my shoulders, my dress falls, leaving my back bare. I gyrate my hips, swaying in time to the music that drifts throughout the house. My hair swings back and forth, brushing the bottom of my spine, sending tickling sensations through me. Hooking my thumbs in my dress, I slide the satiny fabric down off of my hips. Behind me, I hear his labored breathing. A quick gasp. A slow, rumbling moan. A predator's growl. The dress is now taut across my thighs, rolled into a tube, all thoughts of how long it took to save the money for it gone. All I know is that I am on fire.

Shifting slightly, I turn to face him. He is still laying half on his back, half on his side and the outline of his hard cock can be seen through the fabric of his pants. I bend over to push my dress to my knees, my heavy breasts swaying, my nipples hard. The dress falls to the floor around my stiletto heels, as if I am standing in a puddle of midnight water. Catching sight of myself in the mirror across the room, I wonder how I got myself into this. The woman looking back at me looks powerful, self assured, sensual, qualities I lack. I see her/me lift my breasts up and pinch my own nipples, pulling them away from my body. I see him raise up to my crotch, sniffing the small tuft of hair at the apex of my legs. Kneeling in front of me, he brings his hands up to part my thighs further and nuzzles his nose into my tender lips. His breath is hot on my skin and I reach down and push his face hard against me, forcing his lips to meet my clit. His hair is long enough for me to wrap my fingers in and although I am no match for him physically, he does not fight against my hand. Instead, he lets me move him where it arouses me the most. A surge of heat fills me as I continue to watch the mirror, watching the woman that is me begin masturbating against his face. Rubbing, rubbing. Faster, harder, one hand tweaking a nipple, one hand holding his head in place as I near my climax. Now both hands wrapped in his hair. I have forgotten that he is a man. At this moment, he is a toy, to be used for my pleasure. The mirror reflects his dark head between my thighs, my stockings and garter belt a frame, capturing the erotic picture. Faster, harder. Rubbing, rubbing until I can stand it no longer. He senses that I am about to climax and snakes his tongue out to flick my clit. Wave after wave of pleasure runs through my veins. I fight off the feeling of orgasm, giving a slight jerk to his head, pulling it back, then forcing it into me again. Rubbing, faster. Rubbing, harder. Again, he flicks his tongue across my clit, this time reaching far back into my dripping pussy. I can hear his slurping, feasting on my juice. I yell out, once, twice, loudly, over and over, into the room, my face turned toward the ceiling, the tendons in my neck strained, as my body jerks against him in orgasmic abandon.

My brain barely realizes that he has placed both of his hands on the small on my back and is supporting me on his face. Without removing his mouth from me, carefully he guides me to the floor. Each of my legs he bends at the knee and wraps around his shoulders. I feel the heels of my shoes drag across his back through his shirt and he flinches. The carpet is soft, yet still scratches my skin as he rocks me back and forth with each thrust of his mouth. My eyes drift closed, open, then closed again, not focusing on anything except the fluid feeling between my legs, traveling all the way to my fingertips.

Before I can completely return to normal, he rises over me, his body covering mine.

"That was... so... n..." He puts one finger over my lips and brushes the hair out of my eyes, across my sweat dampened forehead.

"Shhhhhh... don't say a thing. We're not through yet. Just... relax."

He reaches to the side of me for my dress, wrapping and twisting it around his hands. With one hand, he holds both my wrists to the carpet above my head, while weaving my dress around them. My once lovely dress now becomes a tightly knotted binding. I watch as he reaches over my head again, for something just beyond my fingertips.

"I knew these would come in handy."

The feathers. He lowers himself to the side of me, one leg pinning mine to the floor, my arms still bound and raised above me. Drawing the feather lightly against my skin sends new shudders through me.

"Wait." He stops in mid-tickle at my request. "I want to try something."

"Mmmmmmm... please. Be my guest."

"Roll over, please."

"Whatever you say."

He turns onto his back, releasing my bound hands. I unwrap the dress from my wrists, keeping it close to me. Sitting up on my heels, I lean over and place my mouth against the crotch of his pants. I exhale, blowing warm breath through the denim fabric. I can feel his body react, rising against my lips. Once more, I exhale and again, he thickens. Reaching up to his belt, I work at the buckle with my teeth. When it is undone, I pull it through the loops and out from under him, my eyes locked on his.

"Do you trust me?"


"Good. Give me your wrist."


"You heard me... Give me your wrist."

A little hesitantly, he gives me his wrist and I wrap his belt around and cinch it tight.

"Now, the other one."

He hesitates, but the hardness of his cock, visible even through his pants, betrays his nervous act. He watches me wrap his other wrist and cinch it also. Leaning up over him, my nipples dangle in his face as I secure the belt around the foot of the massive four poster bed, the leather tightening into a single knot. Sitting back, I survey my handiwork, a slight smile on my face to see him bound, the shape of him outlined through his jeans, hard and thick. Back to his waist. I make simple work of his button and ease his pants down slowly, over his hip, to mid-thigh. He watches me, silently. My ankle gets caught in my dress when I turn to slide his pants down farther and he laughs. Taking it between my hands, I twist the crumpled fabric into a long tube.

"If you can't see, you can't laugh, can you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, if you're blindfolded, with... oh... say, this dress, you won't be able to see what I'm doing to laugh at me. Hold still."

He only struggles slightly, but with his arms bound and his pants only lowered to his thighs, he can hardly do more than twist left and right. Besides, he is enjoying the game up to this point and wants to see what else I may come up with. I wrap the dress around his eyes. There is just enough fabric to tie into a knot. His eyes are now completely covered. Taking the feather he had dropped, I draw it lightly across his skin, starting with his forehead, down one cheek, up across the other

A groan escapes him. His cock pulses. Moisture forms at the tip and trickles slowly out. I trail the feather lightly down from his cheek to his neck, across his collar bone and lower, lightly, over first one hardened nipple, then the next. He twists and groans, but does not try to escape, playing along with my game. Now the feather drags, skipping, teasing over his ribs, down one side, up the other. Across his stomach muscles, which contract as he takes several short, sharp breaths. I watch, as a strand of precum dribbles out, connecting to his skin like a fine silk thread. Leaning forward just enough that my hair brushes his skin, I continue guiding the feather over him. His breathing comes faster, shorter, with the double sensation of my hair and the feather working on him. Precum runs from the opening of his cock and puddles. I slowly bend over him, allowing him to feel my warm breath. He anticipates my goal and arches his pelvis up to meet me. Instead, I merely blow a mixture of warm and cool air against him and let my tongue dip into the hollow near his pelvic bone. My teeth nip against his skin.

"Take the blindfold off."


"I want it off. Take if off. I don't like not being able to see."

"I know. It stays on."

"You'll pay for this, you know?"

"Later. Just relax for now."

"Relax? Relax this."

Suddenly, his legs push against the floor and his body slams into the side of my face.

"No way, buster! This is my game. You'll do as I want now. Speaking of paying, that'll cost you. Stay put."

Taking a chance, I rise from the floor and head towards the closet. I spot a rack with assorted belts and ties and grab a handful. Turning, I can see him struggling to reach the blindfold and I hurry to his side.

"NO! I said no, it stays on."

"Well, I want it off."


The leather belt hisses through the air and makes contact with his outer thigh, leaving a slight red mark, about 2 inches wide. I'm not sure which of us is surprised more, but he jerks, then stills. The game continues, but more serious now.


"I said leave it on."

Sorting through the items in my hand, I decide on one of the silk ties. Quickly slipping it behind his neck, I tie it across his mouth, closing off any protests he might have. He thrashes against the binding, moving the bed an inch across the thick carpet, but the belt around his wrists holds. Sliding down, I grab hold of another belt, wrapping it around his knees and pulling tight. One more around his ankles, jeans still bunched, and he is bound tight. After a momentary softening, his cock is once again hard, in truth, harder than before. I am almost afraid that he will cum before I can further torment him.

"Shhh... slow down... we're not done yet."

My breasts are heaving with each excited breath I take. There is a steady stream of clear fluid drizzling over his stomach and the aroma reaches my senses, making my mouth water. Positioning myself over his legs, my pussy juice running in rivulets down my thigh, I kneel over him, belt in hand. What a sight before my eyes! I feel the adrenaline rush through my veins, feeling the power, the control I have over him flowing.


I aim my stroke against his outer thigh. His legs jerk under me, but he is held fast and can do little more than buck his knees under me.


Once again, this time across his lower thighs, not hard, but still with a slight sting. The blush of a red line appears. He yells out behind the tie across his mouth, but I ignore it.


This one is higher up, close to his crotch. His body reacts by tensing, his balls constricting, the clear liquid, now running from his cock, beginning to turn a milky white color. I know he can't hold out much longer and I am suddenly very hungry.

Slipping the belt through its buckle, I slide it over his cock and pull it snug. The feel of the leather, combined with the tightness and the situation he has found himself in add to his already engorged member. It strains toward the ceiling, purple headed, oozing, the veins filled to capacity, ready to explode. With the feather in hand, I brush up the length of him to the hardened ridge, tickling the sensitive area under the tip. Around and around, again and again. His entire body tenses, the muscles in his neck straining. I lean over him and blow cool air across the head, while at the same time running the feather up and over and around again. I tug the belt a little tighter around the base, forcing even more blood into him, still not stopping the teasing feather. A sudden rush, a change in his breathing tells me he is close. Quickly, I remove his blindfold. He blinks against the sudden light and forces his eyes to focus. He still has the silk tie in his mouth, but his eyes speak to me without words.

Do it, they say. Now. Fast. Please. Do it!

One flick of my tongue across him is all it takes. One pulse. Two. The large vein pounds with blood. I fight against the urge to take him fully into my mouth, instead holding myself about an inch above and away, aiming his head onto the tip of my tongue. Looking at him as he shoots across my mouth and lips and lower face, I can see it in his eyes that he is beyond control. He watches as his thick, white creamy cum fills me, drips out and over me, landing in pools on his legs and stomach. As the shooting subsides, I take the head, sucking as hard as I can on the tip, while my hand pumps whatever is left in him into my mouth.

He falls back onto the carpet, weak, drained, depleted. I release the belt from around his semi hard cock, letting it fall plop! into a puddle of his cum, then slurping around gently to clean up the precious white drops. Once he is cleaned to my approval, I slide up his body and release the knot in his mouth.


"Shhh... let me untie you."

After releasing his arms, I slither down his body to undo the belts around his legs, then snuggle into his side, sighing deeply.

"How was that?" I ask.

"Mmmmm... good. Very good. The belts and ties were truly an inspiration. How did you come up with that?"

"Oh, that. Well, I've always wanted to, we've just never gone far enough before."

"Mmmmmmmm... very good."

"Thank you." A smile stays on my face as I pull a blanket off of the bed and curl up next to him, ready to sleep.

"Honey, next time, I think I'd like to try being the exterminator who finds you naked in the pool, ok?"

"MmmHmmm... whatever you say, dear. Just let me sleep this one off first, ok?"

"No problem. Goodnight."


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