Bind of the Magi · Part 1 (1/2)
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The new fallen snow crunched under Mary’s white boots as she made her way briskly down the freshly ploughed streets that led to her home. Her breath made frosty puffs of fog in the crisp December air as she strode down the sidewalk, shopping bags in each gloved hand. She wore a red woollen coat that reached down to her knees, with a grey-black faux fur collar bundled tightly around her neck to keep cozy. Brightly coloured Christmas lights gleamed through the snow decked tree branches around her. The cool, clear air left a little tickle in the back of her throat and she fancied she could almost smell the turkeys roasting, the warm spices of mulling cider, the tang of mandarin oranges, and the sweet scent of peppermint springing forth with the warm glow from each passing window.
Christmas had always been
Mary’s favourite time of year. All the shopping was done now; tomorrow she would be cooking a holiday feast for all their ‘orphaned’ friends who, like them, weren’t able to make it home to their own families for the holidays. But tonight was just for Joe and her. They’d been married a little over a year and in that time their love had only grown stronger, their bond tighter. Each day she woke up, looked over at Joe sleeping, and felt she was the luckiest woman alive. She still got tingles down in her toes when she saw him smile. When he looked in her eyes, held her in his arms, covered her with soft, passionate kisses- she felt that nothing else in the world mattered.
Lately, they had not been able to spend much time together. They both loved the small starter home that hard work had allowed them to buy but mortgages and other unexpected expenses meant they both had to work just to make ends meet. Mary worked as a receptionist for a small insurance firm while Joe was an apprentice carpenter. With their mounting bills, Joe worked overtime whenever he could, even taking second or third jobs “off the books” just to make ends meet. Often he was so exhausted he would barely be through the door before he was in bed, fast asleep.
Tonight would be different. They’d made a promise to each other, Christmas day was for their friends, but Christmas Eve was just for them. Because money was tight, they’d made a pledge: they could buy each other just one gift. Something special, a surprise. Something they knew the other would love.
As soon as the pledge was made, Mary knew what she would get for Joe. She felt a little shiver down her spine just to think of it. As she and Joe had grown closer, they had shared many things: their hopes, their dreams, their deepest fantasies. She’d been thrilled to discover that along with Joe’s caring and tenderness he had a wicked side. A side that wanted nothing more than to lash her to the bedposts and ravish her unmercifully.
Through the cool night air, she felt her cheeks grow warm when she thought of the times they had had, her arms bound with soft silk scarves to the bedposts of their huge oaken bed (which he had crafted himself, turning the posts on his lathe, fastening the frame together with thick wooden pegs and hand tools) and Joe riding her all through the night. The first time he wrapped a scarf across her eyes she thought she might explode from the waves of pleasure that shot through her body, never knowing where his hands would be touching next.
He’d shared with her how sexy he found it to hear her mewing with pleasure, unable to talk or object, free to relax and enjoy the pleasure sweeping over her. They’d played with scarves as gags, knotting them in the middle and slipping them into her mouth, snugly knotting them behind her head. They both knew the gags were largely symbolic for even with the scarf in her mouth Mary could still talk quite intelligibly. Once, Joe even taped her mouth gently shut with layers of cloth surgical tape but Mary, mischievous scamp that she was, was still able to talk and be understood as Joe sat straddled on top of her. She remembered the gleam in his eye and the many tickle sessions she had endured for that behaviour!
Often, when the lovemaking was over, they would lie in bed together and he would tease her that someday he would get her a proper gag and stop once and for all this ‘ridiculous insolent chatter’. More tickle fights would ensue but Mary’s curiosity had been piqued. She would ask him what he meant by ‘proper gag’ and gradually he began to describe things he had seen in his ‘research’ on the internet. She shivered again as she recalled his descriptions: stuffed leather plugs, straps criss-crossing in all directions, firm panels, muzzles snugly pressed against the face to stifle any kind of sound. Of all those he described, she noticed his eyes would light up the most on the ‘pump gags’. Muzzles with some sort of inflatable bulb inside that could be pumped to plug the mouth of even the brattiest bride.
So, scarcely able to believe her own audacity, she had looked through the history on his computer and found a shop that carried things like the ones he had described. Many an hour she spent, ogling restraining contraptions of all kinds, before finding the perfect gift. From Sax Leathers, an inflatable butterfly gag. The center section puffed up to fill the mouth while the two
‘wings’ would tuck in between her teeth and cheeks, filling them up like a happy, naughty chipmunk.
Many months of scrimping pennies had at last allowed her to order it and at last, just today, it had arrived. Packed in amongst the bags of brussel sprouts, parsnips, potatoes, and other holiday goodies was a plain brown parcel from Sax leathers that she had picked up that very afternoon. Mary giggled to herself as she thought of how she would look, all bundled up for Joe. Turning up the walk to the little bungalow that was home to her and
Joe, she began to plan her evening. There were lots of groceries to put away and other last minute preparations to finish before Carol came over to help her get ready.
It was finished. Many months of slipping off to his friend Chris’s basement workshop were finally at an end. Joe looked over his handiwork and knew that he had the perfect gift for Mary.
It had been early that summer that the two of them had taken a Sunday off and gone antiquing in the country. After many happy hours holding hands in the sunshine, wandering from shop to shop, poking through dusty little back rooms, she saw it: a beautiful old steamer trunk, easily over 100 years old. The wooden slats had all been sanded down and refinished with coat after coat of gleaming varnish which let the golden colour of the wood beneath shine through. Strong black iron bands reinforced the sides and guarded each corner of the big box and on the front, a hand forged iron hasp allowed the trunk to be locked with a huge antique padlock.
Naturally, they couldn’t afford it. Shouldn’t have even thought about it, really, but Mary kept coming back, drawn to it. Three times that afternoon she insisted that they go back into the little shop for just one last look at it. Joe knew that Mary enjoyed their little bondage games and had sometimes hinted that it made her feel like “a treasure”. He knew that she admired the craftsmanship of the old trunk but he couldn’t help wondering if secretly she was drawn to the idea that she could be the “treasure” locked inside the big box.
Since he couldn’t ever afford the real chest, Joe set about making his own reproduction. He had a pretty good memory for design and had even surreptitiously paced out the trunk on one of their many visits to get an idea of the dimensions.
The budget that he and Mary had set for their one gift for each other was just enough to cover materials and Chris helped out by providing the workshop. Evenings, nights, weekends- whenever Joe could squeeze some time around his work and his overtime, he was down in Chris’s basement, sawing, planeing, finishing joints, sanding the finish, creating his masterpiece. The corner joints were mortised together without a hair’s gap between them. Midway along each side he’d run extra bracing from top to bottom to strengthen them and over everything, straps of steel that he’d painted black and weathered to match the original ironwork. Another strap of steel wrapped around the lid of the chest, overlapping the bottom edge to form a tight flange when the lid was closed.
Joe learned that a plumber on one of his job sites was also an amateur blacksmith with a small forge in his backyard. Together they crafted a sturdy heart shaped hasp that was a pretty fair match for the one on the original. The one thing Joe hadn’t been able to find was an antique padlock but he figured that would give he and Mary an excuse to go antiquing again next summer.
Finishing had taken the longest time. Joe had lost track of the hours he had spent sanding, staining, and varnishing to produce the glossy finish that shone before him. Working around the crescent shaped holes that he had routed into each end to serve as handles was probably the hardest part of the job. He could have used thick leather straps for handles like the original but he had a feeling that handles that doubled as air holes could come in very handy.
It had been touch and go for the last week or so. Joe had worried that he wouldn’t finish in time but a last big push and everything was ready. Christmas eve and all the finishing coats were dry, it was ready to be delivered. He was looking forward to tonight, his special Christmas with Mary. With the work on the chest and all of his other overtime they had seen very little of each other lately. Tonight was sure to be special.
At breakfast that morning Joe had very nonchalantly asked Mary about her plans for the day.
“Well, I’m going out around 3:00 to pick up the last few things I need for the big dinner tomorrow. The shops will probably be a bit crazy but I should be home by 4:30 or
5:00. When are you off today?”
“Oh, we’re still pushing to finish the Taylor job, then Cavanaugh wants to take us all out for a quick drink to say thank you for all the hard work. I figure we wrap up the job by 4:00 at the latest, get cleaned up and have one quick beer… I should be home 6, 6:30 at the latest.”
“Then we have the whole evening for…our Christmas.”
Joe had to struggle to keep a straight face through that story. The truth was, they had finished the Taylor job yesterday and Cavanaugh’s thank you wasn’t a beer, it was giving the whole crew today off, with pay. When Mary was out shopping it would be the perfect time to bring the chest home and set up his surprise.
Chris had generously offered his pickup truck and help to get Joe’s project home. Getting it up the stairs from the workshop had been a bit of tricky job.
“Careful Joe,” Chris grunted. “Remember, ‘Flesh heals, wood doesn’t’”.
Joe gasped as he struggled to keep a grip on his end of the chest as they manhandled it up the staircase.
“Jeez, Chris. Why did you have to buy a house with three turns in the staircase? Could you make this any more awkward?”
“Hey, it’s an architectural feature, man. You pay extra for that. Just remember
‘PIV-OT…PIV-OT!’”
“Oh man, I am going to give you such a slap!”
Finally, they got it secured in the back of the pickup and pulled up in front of Joe’s bungalow.
“See this? A nice comfortable One Level home,” Joe panted as he backed his way through the front door.
“Yeah, yeah, Mr. Smart Guy. Where do you want it? Living room?”
“No, let’s set it up at the foot of the bed. I figure
Mary might want to use it as a blanket box.”
A bit more nudging and heaving and the trunk was in position.
“Thanks again Chris, really. I couldn’t have done this without you.”
“No problem, dude. It’s really a beautiful piece. You do good work.”
“Thanks.”
Reaching into his pocket, Chris pulled out a rumpled paper bag. “Oh, one last thing. Early Christmas present for you.” He tossed the bag over to Joe. “I know you were kind of bummed that you couldn’t find the right lock for it. Well, when I was on the Sheffield job last week, guess what I found in a little second hand store on Main street.”
Joe opened the bag and saw a beautiful old brass padlock. It was as big as his hand and must have weighed several pounds. An old fashioned barrel key hung from the keyhole on the front and above it was a little metal flap that could swivel around to cover the keyhole when it was not in use.
“Even works, too after I gave it a good shot of WD-40. Just don’t lose the key,” Chris laughed “I don’t think they’re making them anymore.”
“Thanks man. That’s really great.” Joe was choked for words “Thank you.”
“Ah, no biggie, you candy ass!” he said, punching Joe’s arm. “See you tomorrow! You warn that wife of yours I’m bringing my holiday sized appetite!”
Joe watched from the front window as Chris’s truck pulled away, then set about making his preparations.
Mary had just finished putting all the groceries away when the doorbell rang. Pulling open the door she saw Carol standing on her doorstep, bundled up against the winter cold. Beneath her white woollen cap there was a twinkle in Carol’s eyes as she clutched a huge bright red and green gift bag by her side.
“5:30 on the dot! Are you all ready Mary?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be!” Mary giggled. “Now, get in here!” She practically yanked Carol through the door and helped her off with her winter gear. “Did you get everything?” she asked, looking down at the bag in Carol’s hand.
“Plus a few little goodies of my own. I do declare, Mrs. White! I had no idea you got up to such goings on!” she teased. Carol was one of
Mary’s oldest friends, her roommate from college, and would often come over to keep Mary company when Joe had to work his long late shifts. Over a few too many glasses of wine at one of these sessions Mary had given in to Carol’s probing and let slip a few details of her and Joe’s “adventures”. From there, it was just a few short steps for Mary to enlist Carol’s help in setting up her surprise for Joe.
“I swear Carol, you tell anyone and I’ll…I’ll…”
Bind of the Magi · Part 1 (1/2)
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