Then I emerged and we talked, and while we talked I observed her situation.
J- lived (and worked) in a large loft. Not a fake loft, converted to use as condos; a real loft that had been a commercial space just before she moved in. The living area had two couches and an armchair facing a coffee table and, beyond it, a TV console and her dog. Her Christmas tree was up, its lights illuminated, and there was some quiet piano music—I think it was Christmas music—playing. On the coffee table she had placed two or three paddles, a hairbrush, a tawse, three canes (one thin, one thick, one Delrin), and several other implements. There were about 15 instruments of punishment at all. I tried to appear nonchalant, but it was intimidating. I pretended to be calm, relaxed.
She said, "Let's open the present you sent me," and I replied, "No, that comes later. First we have to take your picture.” (I have never made a very submissive bottom; but I am usually good at remembering what my top has said she wants.)
I spent nearly an hour photographing her. We took a photo of her with her dog, several of her sitting on her couch, and then moved her to a chair in a corner. There I took some close-ups, and then I asked her to get an implement. She chose a small, solid-looking paddle, and I took some photos of her holding the paddle as well. As I snapped pictures, I thought to myself, “That paddle obviously hurts like hell. And I’ll bet she uses it on me.”
I connected my camera with her computer. While she went through the photos, I took a shower and changed into T shirt, jeans, white shorts, white socks, and shoes. I wanted to be fresh and clean for her. When I came out, she told me she liked the photos and had picked a couple to save.
We sat on the couch and talked. I reminded her that I'd like to audio record the session, with the understanding that at the end of it either one of us had the right to say, "Let's not save the file." She said that was fine with her. I put the recorder on the coffee table, next to the paddles and tawses, and pushed the “pause” button. My stomach was in knots.
I told her how much I had learned from her. And I said that I realized that she was more at risk in this encounter than I and that she as the top was manifesting more trust than I was. She agreed, and said it takes some people a long time to realize that. I also said that I had been debating how to act when she slid down my underpants, and finally decided not to act at all, but to do what felt appropriate at the time. She said that was just right.
Then she opened the package, unwrapped the paper, and took out the cuffs. She seemed pleased. She said she had tried to put an O ring in the floor of her loft to help secure me but the concrete was too hard; but that she had others ways of restraining me in mind. She smiled as she said this. The knots in my stomach tightened further.