Start with a Feather

A submissive finds her soulmate.

*

Author's Note

I find that quite a few of the dominant-submissive stories I read involve mostly taking and not a lot of giving. This is not one of those stories. There is some mild bdsm in this tale, but I like to think it's mostly just a story about falling in love, and giving your lover what she needs to be happy. It's a slow build, so hang in there.

*

The events and characters in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

*

Start with a Feather

"I'm sorry, Jessie, I just don't think I'd be comfortable doing that."

"It's OK, Kayla," I assured her, stroking the back of her neck as we lay together. I was too busy basking in the aftereffects of Kayla's incredibly skilled tongue to be upset about anything she said. Kayla was a keeper. If being with her meant moving to a house in the suburbs, where we had vanilla sex all the time, then so be it. At least there'd be lots of vanilla sex. Kayla was a sexual dynamo, she just wasn't quite as kinky as I was, that's all.

Kayla and I had recently arrived at that point in a relationship where the topic of conversation moves beyond the simple questions, like "my place or yours?" The point at which a couple begins to explore deeper topics, things such as past loves and heartbreaks, future hopes and dreams, secret fantasies and desires. I liked to think that we were testing the waters for a serious long-term commitment, and so far things were looking good in that regard.

I had only one little misgiving, but I thought I'd be willing to sweep it under the rug if that's what it took to keep her. Sex with Kayla was good, it just wasn't earth-shatteringly good.

I convinced myself I was being selfish. After all, it wasn't Kayla's fault that I was spoiled. No, the blame for that lies entirely with Professor Spanks-A-Lot, my creative writing teacher from my last semester at the university. Not her real name in case you're wondering. I'll spare you the gory details and sum it up as MILF seduces co-ed. She offered to look over some of my writing one afternoon, we had a bit too much to drink, and the next morning I found myself naked and tied to her bed.

At first I freaked. Later, I calmed down and began letting her do things to me -- kinky things. I quickly found that I enjoyed it. Within a week, I was living in her house and practically begging for her do those things to me. She called me her babygirl and lavished me with affection and praise, while the physical side of our relationship got more and more intense by the hour. Sometimes I'd be sore for days, but always so incredibly satisfied. And the orgasms -- Holy shit! -- I had never come so hard in my life!

I refer to that now as our honeymoon period. The happy times ended rather quickly after her book deal fell through. From that point on, the affection and praise started to wane, while the punishments became more frequent and more uncomfortable. I still remember the night I decided to throw in the towel. She had been drinking, drowning her sorrows after receiving word that yet another publisher had given her the brush off. I actually felt sorry for her and decided maybe a little seduction might help to take her mind off things.

She flew into a rage when I touched her. So, instead of spending an hour with my face between her legs like I had planned, I spent an hour bent over the arm of the sofa, sobbing, while she went to work on me with a paddle. In the end I was screaming my safeword, three, maybe four times before she finally backed off.

That was the last straw. I grabbed what I could carry and left, never looking back.

I realize now just how abusive our relationship had become. What's the saying? Something about boiling a frog. She was the water. I was the frog.

I'm glad it's over and done, but I do find myself missing the good times -- the lavish affection, the giddy feeling I got when she brought me to a new plateau I never thought I'd be able to reach -- and let's not forget the intensity of the sex. The sex was out of this world! I have never had an orgasm of the same magnitude since, not even by my own hand.

Now, nine months later, I found myself deeply in love with Kayla. I wanted to put my past behind me and concentrate on all of the good things I had in my life now. I'd be stupid to let Kayla slip away, but somehow there was always a part of me that couldn't help but think I was settling. Six weeks as the naughty professor's pet, and I was spoiled for life.

I snuggled up with Kayla and silently pondered our future together.

*

I still remember when the two of us met. I had decided to volunteer weekends at the low-power FM station that broadcast out of the neighborhood community center. I needed something besides work to take my mind off my break-up with the naughty professor. I was just arriving for my orientation and there was Kayla, standing outside the door, smoking a cigarette.

"I know, it's a nasty habit," she said, almost apologetically. "I only do it when I'm stressed."

"I'm not judging," I replied, smiling, as I reached for the door handle. God, she was gorgeous, a beautiful mixture of innumerable ethnicities, and it looks like she got the best features of each and every one. Quite a contrast to my pale, skinny, geek-girl look. Add to that her smooth, sexy, radio DJ voice and I was instantly captivated.

"Hey, Special K, who's watching the studio while you're out here pounding the coffin nails?" the program director asked, as he arrived to show me in.

"Don't worry, man," she teased, "I put on Stairway to Heaven."

Now I recognized the voice. "Hey, did you do a dubstep show a couple weeks ago?" I inquired.

"Yeah, that was me. I play a little bit of everything."

"I loved that show!" I replied, enthusiastically. I didn't feel the need to mention that I had cranked it up to eleven in my car, because every time there was a bass drop, the vibrations nearly made me cream my jeans. In fact, by the end of her show, I had to pull over for fear of crashing into something. Suddenly, my intrigue for this woman just jumped up a notch.

As I was being shown around the studio by the program director, Kayla popped in to throw a record on the other turntable. She held up a finger and leaned into the mic. The program director and I stopped our conversation midstream.

"This is Special K, finishing up eight minutes of pure, sonic orgasm. From Zeppelin Four, that was Stairway to Heaven," Kayla was saying. "Tune in next week kids, and I'll be playing the whole album backwards to search for hidden messages. But first, it's four-twenty and I'm sure you know what that means. Time for some Floyd."

Kayla gave me a smile as I heard Comfortably Numb starting up. She carefully lifted Led Zeppelin IV from the turntable and slipped it back into its sleeve. "I like to kick the vinyl when I do classic rock," she whispered, as if it were our little secret.

"Oh my god, I can't believe you said that!" I gasped. "Can you even say orgasm on the air?"

"I just did."

"Actually," the program director put in, "as long as you stay away from the seven words listed in the handbook, you're fine. Kayla, this is Jessie, she's new here, try not to corrupt her. Jessie, Kayla, or Special K, as her listeners know her." He handed me a folder and continued, "Your own personal copy of the handbook. Take this home, read it, learn it, live it. That'll wrap up your orientation, unless you want to stick around and watch the master at work."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," Kayla replied. And then to me she added, "You got the time?"

"Sure," I said.

She handed me a pair of headphones -- Kayla called them cans. I was learning the lingo -- the sliders on the mixing board were pots, the speakers in the studio were called monitors, and now I found out that the headphones were called cans. So much to keep straight.

"You wanna do the weather at the break?" Kayla asked me.

"OK."

And that's how I met the love of my life, sitting in a cramped radio studio, reading a forecast of mostly sunny skies. Sure, I didn't know she would be the love of my life at that very moment, but I had a pretty strong desire. So much so, that I had no qualms about accepting her offer to get a slice of pizza after her show wrapped up.

We spent another two hours talking about music, movies, books, our day jobs, you name it. It was so easy, like we'd known each other for years. We even compared protest marches that we'd been to, and briefly discussed her recent break up -- the one that caused her to take up smoking again. That's when I discovered we both played for the same team. Even better! We just sort of clicked, and it was a beautiful thing.

Kayla and I started making a regular occasion out of hosting shows together and going out for a bite afterward. At first, it was a casual ritual of eating take-out at the park across the street, but as the weather turned colder, it became much more intimate.

"Wanna take it over to my place?" Kayla asked. "It's not far, and I can show you my vinyl collection."

I got to see her collection for all of five minutes before we ended up making out to Frankie Goes to Hollywood. "I've got a soft spot for the oldies," Kayla admitted, as she released me just long enough to flip the record over. I think I have to agree with her. The Ballad of 32 might just be the best love-making song ever recorded. The only drawback is that it's only five minutes long. If ever a song needed an extended remix, this was it.

"I think I'm falling for you Kayla," I sighed after the third time she had me singing out her name in ecstasy that evening.

"I feel the same way about you Jessie. Wanna stay over tonight?" she asked, smiling. "If you say yes, I promise I'll make you pancakes in the morning."

"Yes."

I woke up in Kayla's bed, wearing one of her t-shirts. I was not tied up, and I have to admit that I was a little disappointed by that, but waking up next to Kayla more than made up for it. "Hi," I said, smiling.

"Hey, beautiful," she answered and kissed me.

We wrapped our arms around each other in a warm embrace. I was busy nuzzling Kayla's neck when I felt her hand crossing my back and making its way down to to squeeze my ass.

"Hey!" I teased. "You're trouble!"

"Nothing you can't handle," was her quick retort, "you proved that last night."

"Three times, if I remember correctly."

"I had to be sure. And I have to say, you give as well as you take."

Our witty banter came to an abrupt halt as I pressed my lips to Kayla's and kissed her like it was my dying wish. For her part, she kissed me back the same way.

Soon our lips were locked together as our bodies merged into a tangle of arms and legs atop Kayla's sheets. She kissed and nibbled my neck as I wove my fingers into her hair, moaning her name. Kayla had me flipped over and had my t-shirt pulled halfway up. Her tongue was exploring my navel while her hands did their best to seek out my breasts.

"Didn't you get enough last night?" I teased.

"Did you?" she asked. I didn't argue, in fact, I did nothing but moan as Kayla went down on me for the forth time in so many hours.

"Your tongue is amazing!" I proclaimed.

Eventually we got around to the pancakes. They were delicious, by the way -- Kayla put blueberries in them.

*

Six months later we were still sharing a bed, sometimes mine, often times hers. And now, I was about to share a fantasy as well.

"Kayla?" I asked as I lay in her arms. "How would you feel about tying me up and giving me a spanking?"

She just stared at me for a minute, processing. I was starting to get uneasy and wished I could take it back.

"I'm sorry, Jessie, I just don't think I'd be comfortable doing that."

"It's OK, Kayla," I said. Somehow, I was afraid that would be her response. I snuggled up to her and tried to forget about what I had said. An awkward silence hung over us for a very long time.

"It's not that I've never thought about it," she continued. "It's just that -- well -- I've never thought about doing it to someone I love. I just don't think I could bring myself to inflict pain on you."

"Not even if I asked you too?"

"No."

"Even if I told you I liked it?"

"I said no, Jessie," she snapped. "Now would you please just drop it?"

"Fine!" I huffed.

We didn't say much after that and I finally wound up going home, spending the rest of the weekend by myself.

*

I put in a lot of time concentrating on work that week. Kayla and I didn't try to avoid each other per se, we just didn't go out of our way to seek out each other's company anymore. I felt horribly conflicted as I waffled between guilt and anger. If I had just kept my mouth shut, we could still be making sweet love to the sounds of Kayla's vinyl collection. That was the guilt talking. On the other hand, there was the anger. My desires were a part of me damn it, and even if they did not meet with her approval, they didn't deserve to be dismissed so readily.

The next time I saw Kayla, she was standing outside of the community center, freezing her ass off and puffing away at a cigarette. My guilt suddenly crept up a notch.

"I'm sorry," I offered.

"Me too."

That was it. She finished up her show, and I did mine. There was no pizza -- no my place or yours -- just regret.

*

I spent another week moping around feeling sorry for myself, being angry with myself, being angry with Kayla, the whole gamut. When I arrived for my next show, Kayla was waiting for me, but instead of a cigarette she was holding a feather. It was one of those poofy, tickly feathers from the craft store, and it was died flamingo pink.

"This is for you," she said, "I'll explain later, but first I've got a show to wrap up."

"Thanks?" I said somewhat quizzically.

Clutching the feather, I followed Kayla into the studio. She held up her finger and leaned into the mic. "This is Special K signing off, but don't go anywhere, there's more music coming up. This last song goes out to my girlfriend, Jessie. The Fine Young Cannibals with I'm Not The Man I Used To Be."

"Girlfriend, huh?"

"I like to think so."

"So what's with the song?"

"Actually, I'm surprised it doesn't skip. I thought I might have worn it out. I must have played it a hundred times after you left. It felt appropriate for my mood."

"I'm Not the Man I Used To Be? Are you trying to tell me you're actually a man, Kayla?"

"Don't take it so literally, dork," she teased. "You'd rather I hold a boombox over my head and play Peter Gabriel? I'm trying to say I missed you, Jessie."

"I missed you too, Kayla -- I missed you a lot," I admitted as I embraced her. We hugged for what seemed like forever before I asked, "So what's with the feather?"

"While we were spending time apart, I decided to do some research. I wanted to understand what you were asking me to do that day. Let me tell you, Jessie, the internet is not the best place to research that kind of thing."

"I can imagine."

"I did come across one good article though, sort of a beginner's guide. It suggested starting with a feather and working up from there. So if you're willing, I'd be more than happy to tie you up and torment you with a feather. I can't promise much beyond that, but it's a start."

"That sounds great," I said, "thank you."

"The song's almost over, Jessie. Don't you think you should queue up some music?"

"Kayla, you're putting some seriously naughty thoughts in my head right now. I don't know if I'm going to be able to make it through my show without uttering one of those words on the list."

"Do you want me to teach you how to replay an old episode?" she asked, taking the feather from my hand.

"Yes!"

"Ask nicely," she teased, running the feather over my cheek.

"Yes, please?" I asked tentatively as I felt the feather starting to make its way down my nose and over my lips to my chin.

"Much better," Kayla complemented as she kissed me hard on the lips. It had been a couple of weeks since we last kissed and I had forgotten just how good it was.

"Ohh," I let out, "I hope I can make it out the door. I feel a little weak after that kiss."

"Let me help you," Kayla offered moving around behind me and wrapping an arm securely around my waist, while the feather explored my cheeks and Kayla's lips explored the back of my neck.

"Oh, god, that's really not helping," I moaned. "You'd better stop if we're ever going to get out of here."

"So, you like?"

"Mmm-hmm," I said and kissed her passionately. "Thank you."

"If it makes you happy, Jessie ..." she said and let the thought trail off. She did make me happy, and she was obviously trying her best to understand me and my desires. I didn't think I could ask for any more than that.

Over the studio monitors, I could hear Billy Joe Armstrong ripping into the chorus of Extraordinary Girl. "How fitting," I thought, as Kayla took my hand and we walked out the door together.

*

Somehow we managed to get to Kayla's place without attacking each other. I think it had something to do with the slices and Cokes we had occupying our hands as we walked. She and I had both acknowledged the need for fuel, but neither of us seemed in the mood to waste time sitting down to consume it. We compromised and ended up eating our dinner on the way to her place.

I was definitely not disappointed when we arrived. No sooner had we walked through her door, than Kayla had me pressed up against the wall. She took my face in both hands and showered me with a good five minutes worth of kisses before breaking off. I was waiting for her to drag me off to her bedroom and do naughty things to me, but she seemed a little apprehensive. "Are you alright?" I asked, reaching up to stroke her cheek.

"Nervous," she admitted.

"It's OK, Kayla. I have an idea to help you relax. Wanna put some music on?"

"Sure," she answered, "but I moved the stereo into the bedroom, so we'll have to go in there."

I grinned. "Kayla, you cheeky devil. If I didn't know better, I'd think it was all part of your grand plan to seduce me."

She smiled nervously. I could tell she really was having a hard time with this, so I didn't tease her any further. "Come on," I said, taking her reassuringly by the hand and leading us to her bedroom. "Play something sexy. I want to give you a little show."

"Thank you, Jessie. I had all these plans, but ..." she trailed off. I gave her hand a quick, reassuring squeeze as I heard the music kicking in. It was not something I recognized, but it had a nice, seductive beat. Kayla said it was called Lebanese Blonde.

I started to move in time to the rhythm, doing my best to look sultry and inviting. I slinked around Kayla as she stood stock still, just watching me with an uneasy smile. I took every opportunity to brush up against her, to tease her with my body, to hopefully loosen her up a bit. Eventually she started to relax a little. I stood with my back to her and pulled her hands around my waist. Interlacing my fingers with hers, I guided her hands up under my shirt, encouraging her to explore my stomach. All the while, I ground my backside into her hips in time with the beat.

"Mmm," I moaned, partly as encouragement, but mostly because I liked feeling Kayla's hands on me this way. "You feel this tummy, Kayla? This is all yours." I continued guiding her hands over my skin as I whispered to my love. "You can tickle it -- lick it -- nibble on it -- scratch it." I illustrated that last point by flexing my hand to extend Kayla's fingers as I dragged her nails over my stomach. In my mind I pictured the parallel pink lines that I knew were already forming where she had been. "This is yours Kayla, I'm giving it to you."

I slowly spun myself out of her embrace and turned to face her. Still swaying to the music, I continued running my hands over my body, showing it off for Kayla. "Jessie, you are one sexy woman," she whispered. I don't know if I would classify myself as sexy, I mean, I was kind of a beanpole with a ponytail. But if Kayla told me I was sexy, then by god I was going to be sexy for her.