The Chef
Copyright© 2025 by R. E. Bounds
Chapter 14: No More Hesitation
“I was told yesterday by a mistress that she and her sister believe that I’m a unicorn. And that I need to embrace being bound,” Becca said, pausing to collect her thoughts. “I know I’ve been struggling, but yesterday, everything just clicked into place.”
She looked at me with a weary smile. “There’s a lot to discuss when we get home later tonight.”
I nodded in agreement. “We definitely have a lot to talk about.”
Becca shifted slightly, her wrists restrained. “Did Michelle do this on her own, or was this you?” she asked, raising her arms as much as she could.
“While I was helping Sebastian load the equipment into the SUV, Michelle came down to bring some of their luggage,” I explained. “She wanted to know how you were doing. We chatted for a few minutes, and since we’re heading straight to the studio, we thought it was best for you to stay like this until they drop us off at the airport.”
“She shared more about her experiences with therapists,” I said as I settled onto the bed beside her. “You’re not spending your days in therapy offices or being referred to different psychiatrists to find the right medications. You won’t have to deal with that emotional upheaval. I know it’s meant to be a means to an end, but Michelle said none of it worked for her, and I believe her. I—I won’t put you through that. This arrangement works for us. I just wish we’d figured it out sooner. Watching you struggle over the years has been heartbreaking. I realize now that we could never have enough weighted blankets to truly comfort you.”
I took a deep breath before continuing. “This trip offers you a chance to escape the jewelry. But after talking with Michelle, we both agreed with Mistress Liora that you need to be in those. It’s not about being physically bound; it’s about your emotional state. It’s what we’ve been talking about—you need to feel safe and secure.”
Looking at Becca, I said, “I asked her if she could come up and put you in those.”
Becca smiled.
“And she did,” she replied. “I had just finished getting dressed and packed when she knocked.”
“Did she say anything?” I asked.
“I opened the door, and there she was with the handcuffs, lockbox, and waist chain. I let her in, and she placed everything on the bed. She said you’d be up in a minute and that I needed to be in them.” Becca explained. “I was only in these for a few minutes before you came up.”
I kissed her gently.
“Okay,” I said, looking deeply into her eyes. “Are you alright?”
I took a breath, then added, “I know I’ve been hesitant about putting you in these—I’ve struggled with it. But I’m not going to anymore. This isn’t just a choice, Becca; it’s what we need now.”
“Yeah,” she replied. “I’m fine. Really, I’m okay. I know I—I need to be in these.”
I gently hugged her and then said, “We should get going. Michelle told me the owner of this place wants us out by ten.”
We stood up, and I grabbed our carry-ons along with the black leather bag containing the extra restraints—the ones meant for the couples who had forfeited the weekend.
We headed downstairs, and as I was loading our luggage into the back of the SUV, Harlot approached. We were all exiting through the main entrance of the mansion. We had parked off to the side, where she was directly out front.
The staff responsible for meals left late yesterday after the dinner ceremony, along with several others, so, I was surprised to see Harlot still here. I had assumed the remaining couples had already departed, especially since it was almost ten.
“Hi,” Harlot said, clearly eyeing Yvette. “I didn’t think I’d see you this morning, so I thought I’d come over to say goodbye.”
“Wow, hi,” Yvette replied, glancing at me, “yeah, we kind of figured the same. We thought you’d already be gone.”
“We’re driving back. No flight, so we could leave a little later,” Harlot explained. “It’s just easier, and we can stop for lunch along the way.”
She paused, then added with a smile, “I didn’t recognize you at first—not without your French maid outfit.”
Yvette smiled. “I don’t wear that all the time.”
She chuckled softly. “It kind of attracts attention.”
Harlot laughed. “But being in bracelets and punishment chains won’t?”
She glanced down at Yvette’s restrained wrists, then held out her own hands to emphasize her own cuffs.
“It’s complicated, but I don’t have a choice. It’s not up to me—not anymore,” Yvette replied, her voice steady. “The weekend wasn’t an act; I’m like this all the time.” She glanced at Harlot’s handcuffs and added, “But I see you’ve chosen to wear yours home?”
“What you said Friday night in the kitchen kind of stuck with me,” Harlot explained. “So, I decided to really take it all in this weekend.”
She leaned in closer. “Otherwise, it would probably have just been Vixen and her boyfriend left.”
She continued, “All this has brought us closer together. Who would have thought?”
She chuckled. “Anyway, I’m willing to explore it further ... maybe I’ll come to the point where I realize this is how I need to be too.”
Hearing the trunk of her car close, she glanced back at Yvette and smiled. “I have to go—it’s a drive.”
Yvette waved as Harlot turned around, and we watched her walk to the car, her hips swaying gracefully with her hands resting against her waist. It was clear the weekend had made an impact on her; she held her hands in front of her, as she had been taught, without even thinking about it.
“We have a bit of a trek ourselves,” Sebastian said as we climbed into the SUV.
The drive to the studio was uneventful, filled with light chatter about the weekend. Michelle and Sebastian caught us up on some of the things we hadn’t been privy to.
Michelle mentioned that the sisters were quite taken with us and wanted to include us in their future events.
“Really?” I asked, surprised. “I thought we were just here to help out since their usual people couldn’t make it.”
“They said you two are authentic, the real deal,” Michelle explained. “Some of the people they usually work with are more like actors. Don’t get me wrong; they could win an Oscar for their ability to wiggle around while hogtied and gagged. But the sisters feel there’s something genuine about you both. You bring a sincerity that stands out.”
She paused, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Plus, they know you were up late on Friday night talking with Harlot. We saw the lights on in the kitchen after dealing with the departing couple.”
“Sorry about that,” Becca said sheepishly. “We went downstairs to grab some of those desserts, and Harlot had the same idea. Her partner had fallen asleep, and she was wide awake.”
“Harlot told us,” Michelle chuckled softly. “She explained to the sisters that she stuck out the weekend because of what you said. She said that she felt like a dog in obedience school, but you convinced her to give the weekend a chance—to really learn from the experience.”
Michelle emphasized, “So don’t apologize for that. The sisters were pleased. It reinforced their impression that you’re both sincere. They realized that the weekend wasn’t just a fun opportunity for you two; it was something deeper. You both see bondage as a form of liberation and empowerment.”
Becca smiled. “Did they say anything else?”
“If you ever want to be formally trained as a submissive, they’d be happy to do it,” Michelle replied, looking back at us with a wide grin.
“Formally trained?” Becca asked, clearly intrigued. “What exactly does that entail?”
“Nothing you’d enjoy,” Michelle laughed. “It’s intense. Cages ... horses ... things like that.”
“Horses?” Becca asked.
“Bondage bench,” Michelle replied. “You kind of lay over it on your stomach, and you’re strapped down.”
She added with a smile, “Anyway, if you’re interested ... just let me know. Ben can be there with you.”
She continued, “They mostly only accept women now, but will do couples, as long as it’s heterosexual and the female is present.”
She looked back at us. “They don’t do males anymore.”
Becca smiled.
“Okay,” she said. “It just sounded like they specialize in couples.”
“They do,” Michelle responded. “There just has to be a female involved. Lesbian couples. Heterosexual couples. They won’t do gay male couples.”
We didn’t ask why. Instead, I asked if any other fun things had happened that we might have missed.
They eagerly filled us in as we drove, the conversation lively until we arrived at the studio. But by that time, it was raining heavily. Sebastian parked in the back, offering us some shelter from the downpour. Michelle took Becca inside while I helped Sebastian unload the rest of the items from the vehicle.
Once inside, I noticed that Becca was now wearing a connecting chain and standard-length leg cuffs. Michelle gave me a warm smile, knowing I was seeing Becca in the additional restraints.
I also noticed the cuffs were over the leather straps—the ones I thought had been used when she was hogcuffed Saturday night. I walked up to them as Michelle gently pointed to the cuffs.
“These are similar to the ones we used Saturday night, but not as wide and a bit thicker. They’re also easier to put on. The leather is rolled on the outside instead of featuring studs. The studded ones are great, but they’re ornate and not ideal for everyday wear. These are simple; you just roll them over her wrists or ankles and put the cuffs on top, tightening them like you normally would. The rolled leather keeps them from sliding off and ensures she’s secure but comfortable.”
Looking at Becca, Michelle added, “That means you’ll be able to stay like this for as long as you need—even if it includes sleeping. The design ensures that the cuffs won’t dig into your skin or cause discomfort over extended periods. You can relax and not worry about constantly adjusting them. It’s all about making sure you feel secure without sacrificing comfort.”
Her tone was encouraging, emphasizing the thoughtfulness behind the restraints. “So, if you find yourself in this for a while, it won’t be a problem at all.”
“How do they feel?” I asked.
“Fine. They feel good,” she replied. “Michelle is right; I haven’t had to adjust my wrists since I’ve been in them.”
She winced slightly and added, “But they’re more restrictive. They keep my wrists exactly in place. Even if I wanted to adjust them, I can’t.”
“It’ll take a little while to get used to them,” Michelle said reassuringly. “But you could stay like this indefinitely now.”
She then emphasized, “Like I said, you could sleep like this if needed. It would give you an alternative to the straitjacket.”
Her tone conveyed a sense of relief, suggesting that this option could bring a greater understanding of freedom while still ensuring Becca’s security.
“We’ll mail all the items to you. It’s for the best—not a good idea to bring all that through airport security in your carry-on. You could check it in, but I don’t even want to think about how much those couples paid for those items. Those leather-lined collars? They’re handmade from buffalo, horse, and lambskin. I’d hate for any of that to get lost or stolen. We’ll include these with the collars, bowls, and all the other things that Minx and Sassy didn’t take,” Michelle explained. “You’ll probably have it by Wednesday at the latest.”
“You don’t need to do that,” I told her sincerely. “You covered our flight, dinner, and gave us a wonderful weekend. You’ve done enough.”
“Nonsense. You bailed us out of a possible cancellation. Trust me, it’s the least we could do.” Her eyes lit up as if she had just remembered something. “Ah, right. That thing I mentioned.”
With a smile, she disappeared into an area of the studio where all the gear was kept. A few minutes later, she returned with what looked like a velvety-covered case—something you’d typically find a necklace in, but was much taller.
“This has been here for years, and like the jacket and pet play items, I couldn’t get any of the girls to wear it,” Michelle said, smiling at Becca. “But you seem to have a knack for fitting into and tolerating things more than most of the models.”
We watched as she opened the case. Inside was a brushed steel collar, about three inches in height, with no decorative pattern.
“Is that a collar?” Becca asked, her eyes widening. “Wow. Um—it seems like a solid piece. How does it go on?”
Michelle pulled it out.
“May I?” she asked, glancing at Becca.
Becca smiled and nodded as Michelle grabbed a small magnet and held it over the back of the collar, which had a small hole. As she did this, a long pin came out, stuck to the magnet. She then carefully opened the collar.
“It was handmade in Sweden. Amazing craftsmanship; you can barely see the seams. It’s held together by a pin and pulled out by a strong magnet. Once it’s on, the seams face the sides, so it looks like one solid piece,” she explained.
Holding up the edges, she added, “It’s designed to be comfortable with rolled edges. Like I said, amazing workmanship.”
“Why won’t the models wear it?” Becca asked.
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