Chapter 8: The Comfort of Jewelry

Becca and I continued our walk through the lush resort grounds, enjoying the serene environment as we explored. The trails were lined with vibrant flora, and the gentle hum of nature provided a soothing background. Despite her hobbled state, Becca now moved with a grace that made the restraints seem like an extension of her elegance.

“How are you holding up?” I asked, glancing at Becca’s restrained ankles as she took careful, cautious, and small steps.

Becca looked up with a warm smile. “I’m doing well. It’s quite nice out here. The fresh air is a welcome change.”

“Glad to hear it,” I said. “And I have to say, you’re handling this with a lot of poise.”

“Thanks,” Becca replied.

We strolled past garden beds bursting with color and meandering paths that invited us deeper into the resort’s tranquil embrace. After a while, the journey back to the suite became more evident. Becca’s pace had slowed, her steps more reflective. I noticed the slight strain in her movements, a contrast to the earlier ease with which she had walked.

“Want to take a break?” I asked, noticing Becca’s gradual weariness.

She nodded appreciatively. “A short rest sounds good.”

We found a nearby bench surrounded by abundant greenery, and Becca carefully eased herself down. I took a seat beside her, and we both enjoyed a moment of relief. The stillness was a welcome from the steady rhythm of her constrained steps.

We spent a few minutes in quiet contemplation before standing. Becca took a deep breath and carefully resumed her journey, the final stretch back to the suite seeming more manageable now that we had taken a brief pause.

As we approached, the familiar comfort of our temporary home felt reassuring. Becca’s steps were steady, and her resilience was evident.

Once we were inside, Becca settled onto the bed with a relieved sigh. “Thanks for the walk. It was nice to get out and talk.”

I smiled, taking a seat beside her. “I enjoyed it too.”

We moved to the couch in the living area of our suite, a sense of relief washing over me as we settled in. The faint murmur of Agent Reinhardt’s voice drifted in from the next room, her phone conversation revealing her efforts to sort out our travel arrangements back to New York.

I slipped Becca’s heels off, and she wiggled her stocking-clad toes comfortably against the soft cushions of the couch. She nestled closer to me, her proximity a warm comfort. As we lounged there, engaged in light-hearted conversation, Becca playfully tugged at her leg cuffs, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Just then, Agent Reinhardt appeared, her expression mingled with a hint of frustration. “Well, I’ve made some headway, but we need to make some decisions,” she announced, her sigh betraying her exasperation.

“How bad?” I asked, a knot forming in my stomach.

“We have a commercial flight back,” she said, clearly displeased. “That means navigating two airports, enduring a lot of walking, and dealing with the public.”

Becca glanced down at her restrained, stockinged feet. “And the other options?” she inquired.

“There’s a non-commercial option,” Agent Reinhardt replied, “but it involves a prison plane. We’d be flying with other prisoners, and the only available flight is for high-risk individuals. I’d need to amend your paperwork today to get you on that plane, and frankly, I don’t like that option. Amending the paperwork could delay us further due to bureaucratic reasons.” Catching what she was about to say, she immediately stopped.

Becca turned to me, her resolve firm. “Let’s go with the commercial flight. I really want this to be over when we get back to New York.”

Agent Reinhardt nodded in agreement. Before she left, I added, “Let me call my work. What if I can convince my company to arrange a private flight? They’re partly to blame for this mess.”

“Well,” Agent Reinhardt said, “I’d need to get it approved. Given that you’re not really a prisoner but stuck in paperwork—I can probably get them to sign off on it.” Again, the agent was careful with her words.

“I’ll call them now and let you know,” I said, picking up my phone as she departed to inquire about the private jet.

With Agent Reinhardt out of the room, I dialed Lisa, my mind racing with possibilities. Becca rested her head against me, her hair soft against my fingers as I stroked it gently. I pitched the idea to Lisa, hoping for a swift resolution.

“She’ll call us back,” I told Becca, trying to reassure her.

“Does she think it’s doable?” Becca asked, her voice reflecting curiosity and hope.

“Yeah, given the mess,” I said. “She’s also managed to get you more money out of this, and there might be some wiggle room for other things. I think the company is worried about litigation.”

Becca shook her head. “We wouldn’t do that.”

“I know,” I said. “But I think they want to make things right.”

As we lay on the couch—and our bodies tangled in a cozy embrace—Lisa called me back. I gently maneuvered Becca to ensure she stayed comfortable and then went off to find Agent Reinhardt.

When the agent and I finally returned, I could see Becca’s eyes light up with curiosity. “Lisa got us a private plane,” I announced. “Direct to New York. We’ll have to leave early in the morning, but it should get us home, and we’ll be at my work around two.”

Becca’s face brightened. “That sounds wonderful,” she said, her relief evident.

I then added, “I asked her to indicate it’s a transport of someone, so they wouldn’t be surprised.”

Becca’s smile widened as she grasped the long chain connecting her waist and leg cuffs, pointing to her restrained feet. “You mean—”

“Yeah,” I confirmed with a nod.

The agent then interjected, “I’d like to be on the road by 0800.” We both nodded in agreement. “I’ll ensure everything is double confirmed with the Bureau. I don’t want any more surprises.”

With that settled, a sense of relief and anticipation filled the room.

We spent the afternoon lounging and enjoying each other’s company, lost in conversation. At one point, Agent Reinhardt entered with an update. “Everything’s set,” she said with a tone of relief. “Ms. Bounds, you should be a free woman once we return.”

Becca then spoke up. “We’ve been invited to dinner by a couple we met earlier. We’re meeting them at seven at their suite.”

Agent Reinhardt sighed. “I wish you had asked me first. I said I didn’t want any more surprises,” she chastised us.

I spoke up, “It wasn’t planned. They simply offered, and it would give us a chance to enjoy some normalcy. This was meant to be a mini-retreat for us.”

“I’ll allow you to go,” Agent Reinhardt said reluctantly, “but I expect you back by 2200. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

We nodded in agreement. Becca, looking at the agent, said, “Could you please—?” She gestured toward the handcuffs and accompanying restraints.

“You’ll have to stay in those,” the agent said flatly before turning and walking back into her suite.

I glanced at Becca. “At least we get to go,” I said, trying to stay positive.

“It would have been nice to enjoy dinner without these,” Becca replied, clearly disappointed.

We settled back onto the couch and continued our conversation. Sometime later, the doorbell rang. I carefully got up from the couch and answered the door. A resort staff member stood there, holding our luggage and a large bag addressed to Becca. He set the carry-on down in front of me and handed me the bag.

As I thanked him, I noticed him glance at Becca—dressed in her suit, stockings, and restraints, with her sky-high heels on the carpet near her. He gave me an awkward smile before quickly leaving.

I returned to the couch, placing the package next to Becca. “What’s that?” Becca asked.

“I asked Lisa to get you some clothes,” I explained. “I figured you might want something nice for dinner tonight since the outfits we packed are more suited for our usual hikes and outdoor adventures.”

Becca looked surprised. “How did it get here so quickly?”

“I’m guessing Lisa had someone from the resort shop locally,” I said, offering what seemed the most plausible explanation. “We’ll just need to convince Agent Reinhardt to remove your jewelry long enough for you to change.”

Inside the package were a bra, panties, and two new packages of stockings—just like the ones Becca had been wearing. I pulled out a garter next. Becca’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “They seem to be more for you than for me.”

I felt a bit embarrassed. “Uh, yes. I guess I do prefer things like these.” Then I pulled out a beautifully sleeved, flowing maxi dress.

Becca’s face lit up. “That’s really beautiful.”

“Yeah,” I said, “it’s not like the dresses you usually wear, but I thought it would be a good change of pace given the added jewelry.”

Becca nodded, a smile tugging at her lips. “Good choice.”

Becca glanced at the small case I pulled out and raised an eyebrow. “Makeup?”

I smiled and replied, “I love your girl-next-door look, but I thought you’d be missing your signature red lips.”

Becca grinned and leaned in a bit. “And anything else?”

I chuckled, “Yes—there’s shoes.”

She teased, “Just don’t tell me it’s another pair of 120mm stilettos?”

“Well, I asked for your usual four-inch,” I explained, “but I told her anything under 12cm would be preferable.”

Becca laughed. “I’m waiting to see them.”

I pulled out a pair of designer stilettos with a single sole.

Becca admired them and then sighed. “Jimmy Choo. Lisa definitely has expensive tastes. Okay, so five inches it is.”

“Given their height, I imagine we’ll have to get ready soon,” I said, “It’ll probably take a while for us to get there.”

Becca smirked. “Yeah. You think?” She smiled with sarcasm and amusement.

I went to find Agent Reinhardt and asked her to remove Becca’s restraints. When we returned, Becca was standing, her stocking-clad feet encased in her leg cuffs.

Becca turned to Agent Reinhardt and asked, “Could you please release me long enough to get ready for dinner? I’ll be happy to get back into them afterward.” She smiled with a glint of mischief in her eyes.

Agent Reinhardt pulled out the padlock key and began undoing the restraints, carefully removing each piece. She worked efficiently, ensuring that Becca was freed without any issues.

Becca, now released, headed into the bedroom with the new clothes, gliding gracefully on her toes. I thanked the agent and assured her it wouldn’t be long.

A little while later, Becca emerged from the bathroom. She showered, applied some makeup, and wore her signature lipstick. Her bright red lips and matching nails provided a striking contrast against her pale skin, adding a vibrant touch to the room. Dressed in the panties, bra, garter, and stockings, she looked at me with a soft smile. “Help me into the dress?”

I eagerly assisted her. She stood in front of me in a beautifully floral maxi. As she spun, the skirt flared out, revealing its entire length. The hem fell about four inches above her ankles, giving her an ethereal look. I helped her into the heels, and she commented on their comfort. “They feel good,” she said, surprised, “Maybe I’m getting used to five-inch stilettos.”

“Ready?” I asked.

“You mean to get back into my jewelry?” she asked, seeking clarification.

“Yeah,” I nodded.

“Let’s complete this outfit,” she said with some sarcasm.

I found Agent Reinhardt and informed her that Becca was ready. When we entered the living room of our suite, Becca had already cuffed herself and was in the process of double-locking them.

Seeing this, Agent Reinhardt said, “You’re not supposed to be touching those.”

“Just helping,” Becca chirped.

The agent approached her, and after a few minutes, Becca was once again in her high-security restraints. “2200,” the agent reminded us.

“Yes, we know,” Becca replied, her tone relaxed.

After a brief conversation, we headed out, aware that it would take some time for us to get to the couple’s suite at Becca’s pace.

“I can have the resort staff give us a lift,” I said with a grin. “I’ve seen them whisking guests around on those golf carts like it’s their personal shuttle service.”

“I’m okay. I just want to be alone with you and talk.” She replied.

As we walked, I asked Becca, “Why did you cuff yourself?”