Robert picked Grey up outside her grandmother's apartment building in his newly-leased black Charger. She wore a black dress with matching bra and panties, plus black shoes with a low heel. He was in his familiar jeans, with a gray t-shift. Even after fourteen weeks, seeing him brought a wave of excitement and warmth that still felt like it was new.
As he steered the car toward the highway he raised the subject they had both been thinking about.
"Today is the Seventh Gate, kitten."
"Yes Sir."
"Before that, how do you feel about the Sixth Gate?"
"A little nervous to be unemployed, Sir. But I know it will work out for the best"
The day before had been her final day at Stern, Franken and Fitch. She'd given a full two weeks' notice of her quitting. Her coworkers had taken her out for a good-bye lunch, and in their fond good-byes Grey detected a note of envy. Apparently she hadn't been the only one unhappy with her job. But Robert had liberated her.
"Not too scared, I hope?"
"No Sir. I trust you."
"Completely?"
"Yes Sir."
"I'm glad for that, kitten. I'm happy to have earned that trust."
"You make it easy to trust you, Sir." there was a brief pause. "May I please have the Seventh Gate now?"
There was a brief silence.
"For the Seventh Gate we're taking a day trip. I'll need to ask for your obedience and consent. Is that clear?" his tone took on the serious edge that brooked no disagreement.
"Yes Sir."
"And is that what I'm going to get?"
"Yes Sir. Always."
"You know that you can say 'stop' at any time and I'll stop immediately. But that won't pass the Seventh Gate. Understood?"
"Yes Sir." she loved him this way: dominant and commanding, but gentle and safe. Her pussy began to throb and she knew her decorated nipples were stiff and poking into her bra.
"Good girl. Just sit back and enjoy the ride. You'll find out all about it soon enough."
She nodded. His assertiveness made her feel even more submissive.
So she sat in the passenger seat of the car, watching the scenery fly by and preparing herself for the Seventh Gate. The quiet ride allowed her to reflect on how Robert had changed her in just fourteen weeks.
The first six Gates had altered the landscape of her life. Before she'd met Robert her existence had been lonely, predictable, suffocating and joyless. It had been a seemingly endless stretch of dull, routine workdays at a thankless job followed by long, empty nights.
Now she lived in an exhilarating jumble of colour and sensation; her days filled with anxiety and novelty and ecstasy and a desperate, hungry love that bordered on obsession. In fourteen weeks he had taken her and made her his own. He dressed her and cooked for her and fed her. His fingers touched her in ways that made her burn and beg. His gentle brown eyes and low, teasing voice held her in blissful captivity.
And he had changed her inside as well, making her feel sexy and wanted and important. Making her trust him with an irrational certainty that sometimes scared her. With him she was flirty and playful and confident and sexually open.
And there were still six more Gates to go. How much more could he ask of her? How much more did she have to give? What was left? Robert had already claimed more from her than she ever imagined she possessed.
They took the highway west out of the city for half an hour and then veered north. The concrete and steel of the Greater Toronto Area slowly gave way to a greener, wide-open rural setting. The mid-morning was sunny and warm, and the change of scenery made her feel relaxed and refreshed.
After 45 minutes of northward travel he turned off the asphalt road and onto a gravel-topped rural road. They bumped and jostled along for a few more minutes until he slowed and turned into a long driveway that led up to a modest 2-story farmhouse. The property was vast and tree-lined, and behind the farmhouse was a well-maintained barn with wood-and-brick sides and a roof of aluminum siding.
Robert stopped the car alongside a blue Ford pickup truck.
"We're here, kitten." he reached over and squeezed her knee reassuringly.
They got out and Grey stretched and breathed deeply; the air smelled like cut grass and fragrant trees. Robert retrieved a small suitcase from the trunk and led her hand in hand to the front door. She quivered with a familiar anxiety; the mixed fear and thrill of being thrust into a new adventure alongside the man she loved.
Before they could knock, the door was pulled open by a tall, slender woman wearing jeans and a tight black V-neck shirt. She looked to be mid-forties and in excellent shape. Grey's eyes were drawn to the narrow black leather collar around the woman's neck, fastened in place by a single silver buckle. It seemed to suit her in some way that Grey couldn't quite understand. The woman's eyes were friendly as she opened the screen door to greet them.
"Greetings. I'm Trina, and you must be Robert and Grey?"
"That's us." Robert extended his hand and she shook it. Grey did too, and Trina ushered them both into the house.
"Bill is just getting things ready out in the barn. I've got some coffee on. Interested?"
"That sounds wonderful. Just one cup." he gave Grey's hand a meaningful squeeze. He would be feeding her here as well. The thought of sharing their intimate ritual with strangers made her suddenly shy.
They took off their shoes and Trina led them through the house to a comfortable living room, with thick brown carpet, plush leather couches and an empty fireplace framed by a stone mantle. One wall was almost entirely glass and gave a panoramic view of the grounds, which were mostly wooded.
Robert sat at the end of one of the couches. Grey hesitated, torn between her habit of sitting at his feet and the instinct to sit on the couch inconspicuously. His eyes were on her but he gave no indication of his preference. Reluctantly she lowered herself to the carpet and tucked her legs up under her. It felt embarrassing and awkward but also familiar. His warm hand caressed her neck, stroking gently. The touch reassured her and she felt herself relax and lean into the couch between his knees. Nothing would go terribly wrong as long as he was with her.
A minute later Trina reappeared with a tray containing a mug of coffee and small porcelain cream and sugar jars with a tiny silver spoon. Robert flavoured the coffee to Grey's taste and took a sip, then handed the mug down to her. The coffee was excellent and the heat of it served to quiet some of her butterflies.
"So, welcome to our home and thanks for trusting us with your business." Trina said, sinking into a plush chair opposite them. "I understand we're doing two shoots today; one in the studio and one in the barn?"
Shoots? Studio?
"That's right. I saw the work on your website and couldn't decide between them. So why not both?" Robert said.
"We need more customers like you." she said with an easy laugh. She regarded Grey with a friendly smile.
"Have you done erotic photography before?"
Grey's mouth dropped open and her eyes went wide.
Erotic
photography?
"She hasn't. Do you get a lot of first-timers here?" Robert said.
"Oh, yes." she winked at Grey, "We'll be very gentle. It won't hurt at all!"
"Uh...excuse me. What do you mean by
erotic
photography?" Grey asked. She suspected the answer already and her cheeks coloured pink.
Trina stood as if expecting the question.
"He mentioned on the phone that this would be a surprise for you. Why not come with me and I'll show you around while Robert finishes his coffee?"
Grey rose and handed the mug back to Robert and he winked at her mischievously. She followed Trina downstairs.
"This is the studio. We're stocked to accommodate a variety of tastes."
Grey froze and stared in amazement - the basement looked like a medieval torture chamber! Chains of varying thickness hung from thick wooden beams along the ceiling. Wooden frames of different shapes lined two of the walls. On one wall hung a wide assortment of ropes, whips, paddles and riding crops. In the centre of the room stood a cluster of photography equipment - cameras, tripods and different kinds of lights.
Trina took a photo album off a shelf on the near wall and handed it to Grey.
She opened the cover and was astonished at the pictures inside. Black-and-white photos of men and women bound by ropes in different positions, some blindfolded, some with skin marked by the cane or the whip. They stood, they kneeled, they hung suspended by their wrists or their ankles. The rope work varied from simple wrists-crossed-and-bound to the ornate: elaborate patterns and webs of rope that intersected at tight knots. The pictures were artistic and scary and beautiful.
Grey tried to think of something to say.
"
This
is what I'm doing today?" The alarm in her voice was obvious.
Trina laid her hand on Grey's shoulder. The older woman's green eyes were serious.
"Grey I want to tell you something important. Are you listening?"
Grey nodded, too overwhelmed to speak.
"
You
have the power here today. Not Robert and not Bill or me. What you say, goes. If you don't like a pose or you're not happy with a shot, I need you to say so. If you start to feel panicky or uncomfortable or light-headed, all I need is one word from you and I'll put a stop to it immediately. Any questions?"
