The Chef
Copyright© 2025 by R. E. Bounds
Chapter 26: I Can’t Wait
“You both look beautiful,” I said, smiling at them.
“I feel fat,” Becca replied, glancing down at her dress. “They had to let it out, and I’ve never needed that before.”
“You look absolutely radiant,” I said, trying to reassure her. “And you’re being a bit dramatic—letting out? They just loosened the tummy area a bit so it wouldn’t feel tight.”
“‘Radiant’ is just a nice way of saying, ‘Let’s compliment the pregnant lady to distract from the fact that she feels huge in this tiny dress,’” Becca shot back, a hint of accusation in her voice.
Sophie chimed in, “He’s right, Becca. You really are beautiful.”
“These dresses just aren’t meant for pregnant women,” Becca said, shaking her head. “They’re designed for tall, thin, pretty girls.”
She gestured toward Sophie.
“I just hope I look as good as you when I’m pregnant,” Sophie replied. “Even now, you’re rocking those five-inch stilettos and walking like it’s nothing.”
Sophie peeked through the curtain and said, “Honestly, not many women can pull off heels like that. By the time the reception rolls around, most of them will be barefoot.”
She turned back to Sophie and added, “And we’re talking about three-inch heels, not five.”
Becca smiled but then glanced down at Sophie’s shoes.
Sophie caught the look and smirked, saying, “The fact that I’m in these five-inch stilettos is all your fault.”
As the girls chuckled and we continued to discuss Becca’s discomfort, one of the coordinators poked her head into the room. “You shouldn’t be in here with them!” she said, looking directly at me. “Things are starting soon; you need to be out there.”
She turned to the girls and added, “And you two need to put on your accessories—or whatever you call those things.”
She pointed to the table next to us. She shot us a look that only an event coordinator could master: a blend of enthusiasm and the understanding that she’d support our choices, no matter how ridiculous they might seem to her.
Sophie smiled and gestured toward me.
“That’s why he’s here,” she said. “Ben came to help us get into them.”
The woman rolled her eyes and said, “Okay, sure,” glancing at me while huffing, clearly overwhelmed.
“Just get them into those,” she said, pointing again to the table.
Taking a deep breath, she added, “And then get yourself out there. Things are starting soon.”
With that, she disappeared as quickly as she had appeared.
Smiling at the girls and shrugging my shoulders, I asked, “Are you two ready?” I added, “You heard her—it’s about to start.”
I picked up a pair of hinged handcuffs, and Sophie held out her wrists. I gently locked them around her, tightening them until only one ratchet was showing—precisely where she liked them: tight enough to prevent escape, yet loose enough for her to twist her wrists.
Next, I grabbed a hinged metal lockbox and placed it over the cuffs.
“Okay?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she replied, wiggling her wrists to test the comfort. “They’re fine.”
Then I lifted a waist chain from the table and carefully wrapped it around Sophie, feeding the metal piece through the chain. I ensured it was snug around her waist but not too tight. I slipped the flat metal through the slit in the lockbox, threaded the chain through the opening in the metal piece, and then fed the chain behind the lockbox, locking the end with a padlock positioned directly behind her.
The waist chain was longer than the ones we had at home, draping slightly more than we were used to. However, her dress created a beautifully dramatic effect.
“How’s that?” I asked.
“Fine,” Sophie said, pulling on the handcuffs and finding them secure. She slid her cuffed hands from side to side, ensuring the chain moved easily but stayed in place. “They’re great. Exactly how they should be.”
Leaning forward, she kissed me and added, “You know exactly how I like it.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle and then turned my attention to Becca.
“Ready?” I asked.
“Yes,” she replied with a smile. “Time to chain up the fat lady.”
I pulled the other hinged handcuffs from the table, securing them around her wrists in the same way I had with Sophie since both girls preferred the same tightness.
“How’s that?” I asked.
“Fine,” she replied as I double-locked the cuffs like I had done for Sophie.
“No waist chain or lockbox?” she said, sounding a bit wistful.
“No,” I replied gently. “Not until the baby is born and you’re feeling up to it. I know you’re at the end of your first trimester, and it might be okay, but we’re not taking any chances.”
I continued, “Plus, you’re still having to stop and catch your breath. I don’t want anything around your waist that could make it harder for you to breathe.”
“Okay,” she said softly.
Smiling, I said, “And the padlock keys aren’t on the table, so Sophie’s stuck in those until the end of the reception.”
I gestured to the items on the table and added, “That’s just another reason not to put you in that lockbox and chain—I wouldn’t be able to get you out. Plus, someone has to make sure Sophie gets fed.”
“Alright!” Becca agreed, not entirely happy but understanding what I was telling her.
She then turned to Sophie and added, “You’re not going to be able to eat like that, especially since they’re not coming off.”
Sophie smiled and said, “It’ll make the cake-cutting part of the night so much fun. I can’t wait to be fed cake by you since I won’t be able to do it on my own.”
She looked genuinely excited, knowing it would create a sweet memory that captured the joy of the evening.
As I stared at the girls, feeling grateful for them, the coordinator popped back in.
“You!” she said, pointing at me.
“Out there—now!” She gestured toward the windows.
She then glanced at the girls in their restraints and caught herself just before rolling her eyes.
“Be ready!” she told them.
Again, the woman left as quickly as she had appeared. Wide-eyed and smiling, having been chastised on such an important day, I kissed the girls and told them I’d see them in a few minutes.
Sensing my nerves, Sophie said, “Ben, it’ll be okay. I know this isn’t your thing—you’re not the crowd type.”
She added, “But you’ll be fine. Some people do this multiple times in their lives.”
I smiled, grateful that Sophie noticed my anxiety.
“Yeah,” I replied, appreciating her support.
With that, I made my way outside, walked down the aisle, and took my place up front.
The ceremony was beautiful—breathtaking. The venue was perfect, the same one where we had attended Stephanie’s dad’s remarriage. It was July, warm but pleasant, without the heaviness of humidity. The girls were radiant, both stunning in every way.
I should add that the brides were gorgeous, too. Stephanie and Gidget looked stunning in their wedding gowns.
Stephanie had called us the weekend of the Fourth, asking if we’d be willing to be part of their wedding. She wanted us there but had been facing some resistance from her stepmom. Her father was covering the costs, but Dianna was meddling with the guest list, questioning why Stephanie wanted to invite people she had met just once on a plane.
To work around the issue, Stephanie invited the three of us: Becca and Sophie as bridesmaids and me as a groomsman. Dianna couldn’t argue because two of Stephanie’s original bridesmaids had backed out due to other conflicts they had.
And since it was a traditional wedding and an even number was needed, I helped balance the groomsmen’s side, which also included the bride’s brothers. This meant I got to stand next to Derrick.
The exciting part was that Stephanie wanted the bridesmaids to wear accessories—handcuffs. It made sense for Stephanie and Gidget; from what Stephanie told us, it was part of their dynamic. It also paid tribute to her mom and dad.
More importantly, it was a way to get under Dianna’s skin. The best part—or worst, depending on your perspective—was that Dianna had no idea. The bridesmaids would walk down the aisle in their restraints.
And that’s precisely what happened. Becca wore hinged handcuffs in front and nothing else due to her pregnancy. Sophie had the same cuffs but was also in a lockbox and waist chain.
The other two bridesmaids were equally styled: one had her hands cuffed at her sides with a handcuff and chain combination, like what Becca had worn to the exhibitions, but with less chain between the cuffs and waist chain, keeping her hands tightly by her sides. Finally, the last bridesmaid had her hands cuffed behind her back, also in hinged cuffs.
Dianna smiled and chuckled at the sight of the girls, putting on a show about how everyone knew how Stephanie was—after all, she did come to her parent’s wedding in prisoner restraints, referencing the wedding Becca and I had attended.
But beneath the surface, Dianna was fuming. At least, that’s what Sophie would later tell us when we spoke to her and Gidget about a year later while in Philadelphia for a shoot.
The reception itself was lovely—truly beautiful. It took place outside but under a large tent. There had been concerns about rain, but it turned out to be a perfect night, with clear skies that sparkled with stars. One of the best things about the location was that it was far enough from the congested areas that you could see the night sky and appreciate its beauty.
All four girls stayed in their restraints, just as they had planned. Derrick and Gidget’s brother, Tom—or maybe it was Thomas—ended up feeding the other two bridesmaids since one was stuck with her hands behind her and the other had both wrists tightly against her sides. They didn’t seem to mind, particularly Derrick, who seemed to enjoy it. The bridesmaid was pretty, and it helped that she seemed to embrace the restraints and enjoyed being fed.
Which was great because a few years after that, we attended their wedding. However, unlike her sister-in-law, she didn’t require her bridesmaids to wear restraints. Becca shared with Sophie and me in a conversation she had with Gabrielle that she felt handcuffs were a behind-closed-doors thing—best suited for the bedroom. Even though, like her sister-in-law, she got to experience being transported in high-security prisoner restraints by her fiancé.
The cake was not only beautiful but also delicious. But the highlight was definitely Becca feeding Sophie; she absolutely loved it. It was everything she wanted. And it was a precursor. I would get to witness this moment again in an even more meaningful way.
Then came the bouquet toss, a hilarious sight as the girls scrambled to catch it. All the bridesmaids were lined up, including one with her hands cuffed behind her. The excitement in the air was intense, but the sight of four women in restraints made it even more entertaining.
Becca knew she had the best chance to catch the bouquet but wisely held back. As it soared through the air, the bridesmaids lunged and stretched, their chains limiting their movements. Laughter and playful shouts filled the space as they tried to maneuver. In the end, none of them caught the bouquet, but watching them navigate their chains was a fun memory to cherish.
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