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" He removed his hand from my shirt then rested the velvet-covered box on my stomach. There were soft clicking sounds while he spun the numbers on the lock and when the latch released. He lifted the lid and held up a set of metal handcuffs, putting the box on top of the ottoman. Without a word, he supported my neck to help me sit up, removed my top and bra, and then secured my hands behind my back.
That night was a repeat of the last. I lie there in the dark and silence, grateful that the gym was closed on Monday and Tuesday for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. I planned to just sleep through the holiday and continue my ritual pity party. Maybe I could call in sick on Wednesday and take the rest of the fucking week off.