Krissy sat slumped in the corner of the drafty unfinished and empty bedroom on the carpet of their almost finished house, her head resting against the wall. She languidly watched dust motes travel across the ray of sun that shone forth from the skylight in the ceiling above and sighed tiredly, still fatigued and sore from the sparring session with her husband, but now a bit sore from the predicament she let herself get talked into.
The sunny spot on the floor was the only warmth, and Krissy knew at some point she would want to lay there before either the sun moved or was obscured by cloud, but her mind was reeling and she felt like she was still trying to catch her breath from the match while also replaying in her head the times where she went wrong attacking when she should have feinted before Aiden had put Krissy into a lock and flipped her onto her back. He bet her a hundred bucks, a sushi dinner, and a full body massage he would. She, of course leaped at the chance for salmon sashimi and avocado spring rolls and some spending money.
Unfortunately, Aiden was also her fighting instructor too. Although his tutelage had got her at the top of her karate class, he had some funny ideas of her training. Since they were married they had accepted each others kinks and committed to them as to how they believed a healthy married couple should within the limits of reason and safety, of course. And because they were best friends as well as lovers, they trusted each other completely, even when they bickered.
But most importantly, they felt their marriage worked at present because they were adventuresome, and appealed to each other's need to challenge the other. And sometimes, perhaps more so than she cared to admit did Krissy find herself at the losing end of the bets they would make and losing those bets usually meant that Krissy would have to solve a puzzle of some kind or a test of endurance or a combination of both guile, dexterity and wit.
And so, the loser of that morning's bet sat slumped in the corner of the drafty unfinished and empty bedroom on the carpet of their almost finished house, her head resting against the wall, her arms behind her back and bound firmly and securely with hemp at the wrists, wound against the gold and black elastic trim of her jacket which Aiden had purposely wound to at least not let her binds chafe her at first. Krissy stared at the dust motes in the ray of sun from the skylight that lay a few feet beyond her Converses before her attention slowly turned to the manner in which Aiden had bound her ankles in the same fashion as her wrists to keep her from trying to get up from the floor, and then at the way her knees were also cinched together before wondering silently why she ever decided to marry this kinky freak who had cleave-gagged her with his bandanna and left her here to stew in her predicament.
The morning's routine had begun with breakfast before leaving the apartment they were renting while the house was being remodeled to the house proper so they could go to the terraces near the shore to train. They had an argument about who starred who in a movie, the details now kind of fading in and out of her mind now but then it was an animated and respectful argument. By the time they reached the terraces, the discussion had went into a wager upon their sparring session's result. Aiden proposed the dinner, and Krissy accepted.
"And if I lose?"
Aiden flashed her that mischevous grin that got her all sorts of hot and bothered, and Krissy at once knew that this was going to lead to some kinky shit on his part, which good thing for him was also up her alley as well. "I'm going to tie your ass up and leave you in our bedroom upstairs, you know, to break it in, like?"
Krissy's cheeks reddened. "No, the fuck you are not!"
"Those are my terms."
"For how long?"
"Two hours."
"Fuck you."
"Three hours."
"No! You are not leaving me stuck for an hour, you asshole."
"You're going to go against our bet?"
"No, because I'm going to kick your ass and you're going to buy me dinner!"
That was not the way things happened. Aiden defeated her, and Krissy accepted the terms of their wager. Her husband offered his hand and she took it, helping Krissy off the ground. She had worked up a sweat, but it was a bright fall morning with the temperature in the upper fifties, and she began to shiver. Aiden, ever the observant mate threw her her jacket, a black nylon baseball jacket with gold trim on the bands and a patch of her high school karate dojo on its shoulder. Krissy donned the jacket and immediately began to fasten the buttons, stopping to just above her midriff to ward of the chill of the breeze, which began to pick up as the sun began to climb towards noon.
She put her hands inside her jacket pockets and fingered their wedding ring rather nervously in her left-hand pocket which she always took off before sparring, walking back up towards the house that they had bought and spend the summer fixing up and remodeling. They were nearly finished, having only the living room to frame and the storm windows to install, and they were proud to have finally built their dream home. Sure, they were up to their noses in debt, but they were making good money too. Aiden was a freelance combat instructor. Krissy was a banker. Their salaries got them a fixer-upper near the shore with beach access, and after a few months of work was finally starting to look finished. Krissy could hardly wait to move into it, but the thought that she would be letting herself be kept a somewhat agreeable if not hesitant prisoner was starting to give her butterflies in her stomach. Krissy said nothing as they wordlessly arrived at the back entrance, but once Aiden started unlocking the back door she started to press him for questions.
