His voice. If I had to pick one thing that I loved most about our first session, it would have to be his voice. He has the unique ability to convey both cruelty and compassion in the same breath, to come across as simultaneously savage and civilized, with a refined ferocity that must have taken a lifetime to cultivate.
The effect his voice had on me was hypnotic, stupefacient, almost alarmingly so. I found myself in a daze as I carried out his first series of instructions, as if possessed by him right from the start. I was amazed by how quickly I reacted and how readily I began to comply, well before my mind had time to process what I was being told to do:
“Strip naked.”
“Kneel down.”
“Bend over.”
“Present.”
Undressing, kneeling and ultimately prostrating myself for his initial assessment of me proved quite an ice breaker. Although I was eager to do as he said, the indecency of it felt, in some ways, like a small betrayal. A betrayal of myself, of my sensibilities, of my dignity. At the same time, it was wildly freeing, and it’s hard to put into words just how exhilarating it felt to overcome my own self-imposed modesty as I was made to “present” in this fashion several times throughout our session. As things progressed, I began to relish each new opportunity to open myself a little wider, arch my back a little deeper and push my shoulders a little harder into the floor.