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  Epiphany
Author: Laney Redman
It
was the kind of meeting you see on the silver screen. Two people
in a used bookstore, both reaching for the same title. But that
is exactly how it happened. The beginning was easy to remember…
It was a true find, a brilliantly kept copy of the extremely
rare “book” Encyclopedia of Erotic Literature. An ironic title
yes, very overt and obviously sexual. So, who was I to reach for
that particular book? A collector. My mother had been a
connoisseur of the written word. And, while I was quite young,
she passed that love on to me. I actually knew the owners of
this book store so well that they mailed me a Christmas card
every year.
And yet, another hand reached for the book at the same time that
I did. A very masculine hand now rested on top of mine. I looked
up to see a set of truly beautiful eyes, deep pools of brown.
Mysterious and truly captivating.
“Mark.”
“Renee.”
We introduced ourselves and I found myself melting. His voice
was as deep and sensual as his eyes. And, when he asked me if I
wanted to walk to the local coffee bar, I agreed. In fact, I
agreed so quickly I forget that I do not even drink coffee. I
did however; have the presence of mind to ask “what about the
book”?
“Allow me,” he took the book and took it to the register as I
stood there in shock. Surely he was not going to buy that book
for me? The going rate for that book was around $300; even here
it would be at least $100. He was signing his credit card ticket
as I walked up to the desk. He presented the book and stated
simply “for you.”
“There is no way I am going to accept such a gift from you-I do
not even know you.”
“So, meet me over coffee”?
“The coffee, I forget, I do not drink coffee. But, I would love
an iced chocolate.”
“Done.”
The walk to the coffee bar was a short one. I spent most of the
walk protesting the gift and he spent just as much arguing that
I should just accept the gift gracefully. If this guy was not a
lawyer, he really missed his calling in life.
Over coffee, I learned that my suspicion were correct. Mark
Murray was in fact, an attorney. He was also a lover of music,
avid reader of erotica, and in fact, he had written many erotic
pieces. The book I wanted as an addition to a collection, he
wanted as a resource. He told me that he had a feeling that the
book would mean more to me than it would to him and that in
giving it to me, he knew he was right. He did ask if he could
reserve the right to visit “it” in the future. I laughed as I
agreed.
It was at that point that things became foggy. I know that my
mind was clear and focused at the time. But the rest of the
weekend seemed like a dream to me…
We ended up at my place. I had a little house, nothing fancy but
it suited my needs. It was at the end of a very quiet street. My
neighbors were older-they had known my grandparents and
remembered me as a small child, playing in the yard of the house
I now lived in. It was almost like being isolated but close
enough to people that the feeling was not so extreme. As I look
back now, I am sure that the “remoteness” of the house had a lot
to do with why we went there.
 We started the evening out simply by having dinner
together-delivered Chinese food and my famous sweet tea. There
was a Chinese restaurant not terribly far from my house. A
small, family run place that was actually quite good. When we
placed the order, I was certain that we would never manage to
eat all the food that sounded so good us. But, we were making a
pretty good effort. He was as adept with chopsticks as I was and
we laughed as we tried to feed each other. Mark offered me a
piece of very spicy Hunan chicken and just as I was about to
take it into my mouth, he dropped it. I glanced at him coyly and
watched as he simply picked up the morsel with his fingertips
and placed it gently on my tongue. The sensuality of it was
simply delicious. To my delight (and ecstasy) he fed me the rest
of the meal, using only his fingers to do so. I gently licked
his fingertips in gratitude. Little jolts of electricity ran
through my body.
During the meal, we had talked about a lot of the topics we read
about in my newly acquired treasure. The variety of subjects,
both everyday and taboo was simply wonderful. Out of the
seemingly infinite list of ideas, we agreed on so many it was
amazing. Despite the fact that we had just met, we talked like
old friends. I was just so comfortable with him that I felt I
could tell him anything. And, as such, I told him of my secret
fantasy of being spanked. He smiled softly and asked me to
elaborate on my thoughts. I confided to him that ever since I
was a teenager I had harbored a hidden desire to submit myself
entirely to someone. The desire had been awakened when I watched
a bad horror flick about a wax museum. In the movie, a “nice
girl” is dominated by the Marquis de Sade. The actress was
pretty believable because she made me burn with need and ache
with envy as I watched her experience the heavy hand of the
sadist who whipped her.
Mark nodded as he listened. He told me that he could relate to
my feelings. He had always had a very dominant, almost sadistic
streak in his soul. He had not seen the movie I told him about
but he understood my need to serve since he also had a need to
control. The entire situation was bizarre. Two complete
strangers, talking about sado-masochism just as casually as they
may talk about the weather. But, the strange thing was how drawn
I was to him. I somehow knew that I cold trust him implicitly.
That regardless of how much or how little I knew about him, that
this man carried himself with a certain degree of pride. And,
his pride would not allow him to lose control of any scenario.
It was very reassuring to feel this way. Especially when he
stood, offered his hand to me, helped me rise and led me into
the bedroom.
Once there, Mark turned to stand before me. He leaned towards me
and whispered, “Renee, you know I would never harm you in
anyway. I want you to trust me. Do you?”
“Yes, I do.”
He walked around to position himself behind me. Gentle arms
guided me to the floor length mirror and we stopped about a foot
or so in front of it. Reaching around me, he unbuttoned my shirt
and removed it. My shorts, panties and bra were also removed
quickly but with a slowness that was antagonizing. I stood there
naked, trembling and looking down at the floor. He placed his
hand under my chin and lifted my head until I was looking into
the mirror. His eyes met mine as he told me how beautiful he
thought I was. Then, he told me that the beauty we saw was
nothing compared to the beauty that would come with my complete
submission to him.
He asked if I had any pantyhose. Puzzled I pointed to the
dresser where I stored all my delicates. He retrieved several
pairs, walked to the bed, lifted the mattress and positioned the
hosiery near the top and the bottom. The legs were spread to lay
wide open so that each end lay over an opposite side of the bed.
After lowering the mattress, he gestured towards the bed and
told me to lie down on my stomach and stretch out, spread eagle.
I obeyed despite my confusion.
Using the pantyhose, he managed to securely strap me to the bed.
Mark admitted that the situation was not ideal but that
sometimes makeshift props worked better than the real ones. He
then slyly suggested that I test the “ropes.” Smirking, I did as
he ordered. To my utter chagrin, I found that I could not free
myself. In fact, the more I struggled, the tighter the bindings
became. Mark smiled as he told me that I may want to stop before
I cut off the circulation to my hands and feet.
He walked back to my dresser and rummaged around until he
procured a scarf. He tied that around my eyes and asked if I
could see anything. I shook my head slowly. Mark told me that he
would be back in a few moments; he had to get some things from
his car. Huh? His car? I panicked. What had I gotten myself
into? Was Mark a psycho who wanted to kill me? Would he leave me
here like this? Who would find me? Would I be dead or alive when
they did?
I heard his approaching footsteps as he returned. Mark told me
that for some reason that morning; he had put a few of his toys
in the car. He did not know why he did, he was just following
his instincts and he always followed his instincts. He told me
that while he laid everything out as he wanted; he would go over
a few rules with me. First of all, there would be safe words.
Most novices preferred the traffic light colors; red for stop,
yellow for slow and green to go. Second, the moment I said “red’
the session would end at once. No deciding that I really did not
want it to end, even seconds later. He would stop immediately.
Finally, if there were any medical issues he needed to know
about, I should tell him at once. He asked if I understood and I
nodded.
He told me to take a deep breath and relax. The moment I
exhaled, it began,
The first strike was stunning. I inhaled sharply through
clenched teeth and before I could relax again, another came. And
another, and another. I actually lost sense of time and space.
My body was floating. The inability to see caused my other
senses to heighten and I could almost hear the belt (WAS it a
belt?) cut the air and it was lowered. It seemed that every time
I could almost catch my breath, another lash caused me to gasp
again. I writhed on the bed. I was in agony; I was in ecstasy;
miserable and exhilarated. Parts of me screamed in my mind, I
wanted it to end, I wanted “just one more.” I struggled with
myself internally and the blows did nothing to resolve my
turmoil. They merely distracted me momentarily.
I was sweating profusely. It was like I had been running for
hours without stopping. I could feel the sweat running in
rivulets down my breasts, my face, my entire body. I was
drenched. Unfortunately, the moisture only served to increase
the intensity of the lashes. And yet, the more I “suffered” the
more aroused I became. I was certain that my pussy was wet but I
could not tell. I was wet all over and I could not tell exactly
where the wetness came from.
And, just at the moment I was at my breaking point, it stopped.
It was sudden and truly unexpected. Mark softly ran his
fingertips down my back, then up it. I shivered uncontrollably.
He untied me quickly but I did not move. I stayed in the same
position and trembled all over. I was so cold it was
unbelievable. He covered me with a throw blanket and settled
himself onto the bed. He was very close to me and held me as I
shook. Kissing me tenderly, he told me that I was more beautiful
in that moment than he had ever seen anyone. He “petted” me and
my body warmed.
I felt more alive than I had ever felt in my life. And, more
sexually charged than I ever thought possible. I wanted Mark
more than I could stand. I needed him, craved him; but, when I
moved towards him, he refused my attention. I shocked, I asked
him why. He told me that my body was still adjusting and that I
should give myself time to take in everything that had happened.
He said that when we made love for the first time, he wanted it
to be something I would always remember. I was so frustrated
that I could hardly breathe. I desire him more intensely. I
needed to submit myself to him sexually. I tried to ask him
again but he merely shook his head and told me that we would
wait. Without hesitation, I burst into tears.
Embarrassed by my reaction but unable to stop it, I wept as he
held me close. I begged him to let me show him how much I wanted
him. How much I needed to connect with him in any way he wanted.
I would do anything just to feel him close to me, inside me. He
smiled and told me that if I could ask and address him properly,
that he would reconsider but only to a certain extent. Looking
at him through eyes shining with tears, I asked, “please, let me
feel you inside me-in whatever way you choose. I need to feel
close to you, like I serve you as you wish.”
Mark considered this. After a moment he told me that the only
way he would deem acceptable was for me to pleasure him orally.
He would not subject my body to anymore stress, of any kind,
that night. Smiling happily, I watched as he lowered his pants,
then his briefs. He sat down on the chaise I used to relax in
while reading. Moving slowly towards him, I knelt before him and
leaned forward. I took him into my mouth easily. He was already
very hard and I could see the pre-cum that leaked from the head
of his cock. Loving the salty way he tasted, I licked him slowly
and easily. I could not get enough of him and I wanted this
moment to last. I flicked my tongue on the head and slowly
worked my way down the shaft. I sucked with a bit more pressure
than I had previously applied and when I reached his balls, I
stopped. Breathing in his scent, I reached up slowly and began
to massage the sensitive treasures until they tightened
wonderfully. I took each into my mouth and swirled my tongue
around them. Bathing them with my mouth. I used my hand on his
cock while I tended to his balls.
Finally, I sucked them both inside my mouth and hummed
quietly-deliberating creating a very unique sensation. I did
this for a few moments then I moved back to his cock. Cupping
his balls in my left hand, I worked then gently but with a
certain pressure that was not easy to ignore. Nothing that would
hurt at all-just enough to make them know they were getting
attention too. I very softly nibbled my way up the shaft of his
cock. Not to cause pain or even a hint of it, just a little bit
of teeth to offset the softness of my lips and tongue. I
alternated those little nips with long, slow licks in hopes of
bringing him to the edge and keeping him there. Once I made my
way back to the head, I opened my mouth and lowered my lips onto
him gradually. I only took the first few inches in. I was
experienced enough to know that trying to deep throat someone
for the full course of a blowjob only resulted in a very tired,
very sore mouth.
I moved back and forth on his cock, picking up speed and
applying more pressure as his breathing deepened into moans. I
continue to rub his balls as I wrapped my right hand around the
lower part of his cock. Coaxing him towards orgasm, I slid my
mouth further and further while I stroked him faster. I moved my
hand momentarily as I took him fully into my mouth and
maintained that depth for a minute or so. When I shifted back to
just the head of his cock, I started rubbing the shaft again
with my hand. I watched him as he sat back with his eyes closed
and felt his hands wrap into my hair. He never really used them
to guide me but the feeling of his hands on me made me work
harder to bring him to orgasm.
As I applied more pressure to the head and the area just below
it, I felt his body tense. His hands pulled at my hair harder
yet still allowing me control of my movements. He groaned loudly
as his muscles tightened. Within seconds, he orgasmed
forcefully. I felt his cum fill my mouth and I swallowed every
drop of it and lightly sucked him for more-milking his cock for
just one more taste…
Looking back, I realized that in the moments we shared, I had
found my true happiness. And, I smile as I remember when I found
out that the screams I heard in my head were real. He had heard
them too. But, I have to wonder, were they sounds of pain or
pleasure? Or was it more than that? Was it the moment that the
façade I had worn for years was replaced, by the secret persona
that had always been there? Was the façade screaming as it was
destroyed?
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