The day I gave myself to Trisha so we could re-enact the photograph I had bought her was a special day. The photograph featured a naked woman caning a naked man. We were quite a different couple to the man and woman in the photograph, but I had offered my surrender and Trisha had accepted this.
It started when I asked for her hand, to take our partnership to marriage, intertwined for ever. She told me that she would not answer immediately, but that at lunch on the next Saturday she would grace me with an answer.
I booked a table at a restaurant near Trisha's, a hatted temple to modern gastronomy. The room was elegant and a bit sparse, ideal for a conversation that might demand some discretion and privacy.
I had champagne ready just in case. And a ring.
I arranged to meet her there, sitting and waiting. She arrived, just minute late, smiling and eyes sharp and sweet. She is mine, me hers: I know it in my heart.
She sits and tells me straight away that she accepts, that she knew when I asked what her answer would be. She slips the ring on and we toast, and as we start sipping the first course of the degustation arrives.
Once the waitress has departed Trisha confirms what she said earlier, just to make sure she believes it too.
"I wanted a few days to sit with it, and to think about an idea I had.
"Remember that you gave yourself to me to cane as a sign of acceptance and love. You told me it was to be once only and at a time that suited both of us. I am hoping that will be later this afternoon. I want our version of that photograph to be our own special engagement present to each other.
"If you agree I will ring the photographer I have spoken to and set a time for later today. Her work has that sort of moody feel, but it won't be a copy but inspired by it."
"What did you have in mind?"
"I want to record the whole event, and we can choose any image we want to make bigger. They will be ours totally, and for us and whomever we choose to share them with, if anyone.
"I am happy to pretend to cane you for the photographs. I have a private space in a beautiful old heritage garden lined up. You will be naked, I will wear the boots and one of my special necklaces. What do you think?"
"I'll do it for real because I promised that to you, but no more than six, and if I call 'red' we stop and don't ever go back. Also the photographer needs to be naked or dressed in tune with you to keep the mood."
"Let me make a call while you order the wine."
Trisha returned and told me we had an appointment for four o'clock. The photographer was fine being dressed to suit.
As we worked our way through the wonderful food I had to keep reminding myself how lucky I was. When dessert arrived, perhaps because Trisha could see I was getting nervous, she instigated a game of who would you do. We both settled on one of the waitresses. She was tall, a bit busty, long dark frizzy hair and blue eyes. She moved with a grace and style and was not adverse to flirting with both of us. I could see her as a sub to Trisha, while curiously Trisha seemed to think she was a domme. The restaurant was now mostly empty, so when she brought dessert, we broached it with her.
Trisha, bolder than me, asked her "if you were a bit kinky would you be dominant or submissive?"
Although there was an atmosphere the outright question seemed to catch her by surprise. She pondered, but before she could answer she was called away.
We finished our dessert and I made a trip to the bathroom.
When I returned the coffee had arrived. Trisha reminded me that we had about an hour, so we lingered, though the second coffee was brought by another waiter. No mention was made of the waitress's answer so I assumed nothing had been said. It didn't matter really: it was just a game really.
After settling up we zipped off to the garden for the photographs. The setting was a formal garden in the grounds of an old house. Picture a rustic brick wall, ivy growing across the top of it. Sandstone paving and large planters with rose buses sporting large blossoms of the deepest red.
The photographer waited for us, her equipment already set up. Trisha introduced Aiden. Before me stood a tall, slim red head. Her deep auburn hair was cut short and a spray of freckles flecked her face like stars in a distant galaxy. Despite being a redhead her skin was quite olive and her brown eyes sparkled alongside her dazzling smile. Wow I thought, as I also wondered about her clothes for the photographs.
I was despatched to the car to get a bag from the boot. As I carried it back to the garden gate I saw our waitress from lunch pulling in just up the street. I waited while she bounded down to me, bag slung over one shoulder.
"Hi, I'm Erin. You look surprised to see me. Didn't Trisha tell you I was coming?"
