Time

"Who's that for?" you asked your wife, seeing her holding a present you didn't recognize.

"You," she said with a wry smile.

"I...I thought we weren't getting each other presents this year," you said, surprised.

"We're not...it's not from me, silly, it's from my boyfriend."

You swallowed. "He...he got me a present?" you asked.

She nodded, handed it to you. "Go on," she said.

"What is it?" you asked, assuming she knew.

She shrugged. "I don't know, he wouldn't tell me," she said. "There's a card, though."

You opened the card. "It's time, Merry Christmas, Mark."

"I don't get it," you said.

She shrugged again. "Go on, "she said.

Curious, nervous, you unwrapped the paper, opened the box, gasped when you saw what was inside. "Har...Harper," you stammered, "this...this is...this is a..."

Your wife leaned over, looked into the box, saw a small, pink, lockable chastity cage. "Oh, sweetie, it's adorable," she said, "try it on, try it on!"

You looked into the box, stared at the cage. It had a press-button lock but no key; you realized once it was locked, it wouldn't be openable. "Harper...there...there's no key."

She smiled. "I think that's the idea," she said, "he's holding onto it."

"But then we can't..." 

"I know," she said, a smile on her face. "He's right, it's time."