The Chef
Copyright© 2025 by R. E. Bounds
Chapter 6: Welcome, Adjustment, and Acceptance
“Does this mean I’m not allowed on the couch anymore?” Becca asked, smiling as she glanced at the giant dog bed in the corner.
“No,” I replied. “While I was picking up items for tonight’s dinner with Sophie, I saw this in the bargain area. It was the last one, and it looked like they just wanted to get rid of it. I guess people don’t have giant dogs.”
Becca chuckled. “Okay, then. At least now I’ll have a comfortable place to lie down so that I don’t have to beg to get you to put me on the couch. Begging with the tail, well, um—it drives me a little crazy.”
“So, you’re not upset about the bed?” I asked. “I can return it if you’re uncomfortable or if it makes you feel degraded.”
Becca shook her head with a gentle smile. “No, it’s okay. Really. Those models that Michelle talked about. They were right. Being that way completely alters your focus. When I’m in all of it—having multiple sensitive areas constantly stimulated—it creates an intense, almost primal need to feel completely full and satisfied. Having you inside of me is all I can think about.”
She paused, her expression thoughtful. “My thoughts aren’t clear or rational. There’s no sense of humiliation; it’s more about dealing with this overwhelming need. All that matters, all I want, is for you to get me pregnant.”
Becca then looked at me and said, “So, having a comfortable bed will just be something I’ll use to find solace, like a female dog seeking comfort while waiting to be fully satisfied. It’s not about pride or embarrassment; it’s simply about having a space where I can find some relief and calm amidst all these overwhelming feelings.”
I nodded, realizing the gravity of what she was telling me. Her actions, driven by this overwhelming need to become pregnant, mimicked the behavior of an animal in heat—intense, focused, and unrelenting. This revelation helped me understand her better and reinforced how important it was for me to support her through this.
“Do you want to start a family? We could get married, and—” I wanted to let her know that I was ready and saw this as an opportunity to discuss marriage.
Becca nodded and immediately replied. “I do want that, but not right now. We just moved into our new home. We’ll get there.”
This was the answer I expected; Becca had an unobstructed vision of how she wanted things to unfold. But now, there were two sides to her: the rational woman who wanted things to proceed a certain way and a more primal side—the distressed, anguished dog howling and whimpering for relief, pleading for something her human side didn’t honestly want but felt compelled to seek.
“Okay,” I said, nodding. I didn’t say anything more.
“I know you’re ready,” she said, sensing my reaction. “Every month, I’ll be in a state where I can’t think straight. On all fours and unable to communicate, I’ll be doing everything I can to get pregnant—though it’s just my biological need acting out. I need you to fulfill that need—without the baby part, for now.”
“Okay,” I said. “We’ll keep the bed. I just want our new home to feel as comfortable and supportive as possible.”
She smiled, looking teary, thinking about our home. She cupped my face in her cuffed hands. “I love it. And when you have me like that again, and I can’t think straight—I’ll love it even more.”
As she spoke, the doorbell rang. Remembering Sheriff Collins’ advice, we placed a set of hinged handcuffs and keys on a small table by the front door and another set in the laundry room by the back. This meant Becca now kept the regular handcuffs in her purse, even though it didn’t matter much anymore, as she would always be cuffed when going out. But it offered her comfort knowing she had them.
I quickly removed the chain cuffs and secured Becca with the hinged ones behind her back. I then placed the chain cuffs on the table before answering the door, which revealed two women standing on our steps, one holding a plate of cupcakes.
“Hi, we’re Jenny and Tiffany,” one of them said with a friendly smile. “We live in the neighborhood—I’m a few houses down.”
“And I’m right across,” Tiffany added. “Welcome to the neighborhood!”
I introduced Becca and myself and invited Jenny and Tiffany inside.
“Thanks. We’re happy to be here,” Becca said warmly. Glancing at the plate of cupcakes, she asked, “Are those for us?”
“Yes,” Jenny confirmed, and I accepted the plate from them and placed it on the small table next to the handcuffs.
“Thank you,” Becca said, her voice warm. “They look yummy.”
Jenny and Tiffany smiled appreciatively. Noticing their lingering gaze, Becca, dressed in a maxi dress that fell below her knees with short sleeves, a modest cardigan, pantyhose, and four-inch heels, realized their attention wasn’t on her outfit.
With a lighthearted tone, she extended her hands behind her, showing them the handcuffs, and added, “I take it you’ve noticed?”
The two women nodded, looking a bit uneasy.
“We heard that this house sold and that it was bought by the woman who, well, is always restrained,” Jenny said, her tone hesitant as she searched for the right words. “Honestly, we just wanted to say hello—we usually welcome new neighbors with cupcakes or brownies...”
She glanced at the table, finally noticing the handcuffs. “But we have to admit, we were curious too. We weren’t sure what to expect.”
“Yeah,” Becca said, smiling warmly. “We just moved in. And yes, as you can see, I’m the woman people have been talking about.”
“Okay,” Tiffany noted, her eyes wide, not sure what else to say. She then gently pointed at the handcuffs and added, “Everyone made it sound like you were chained up like a prisoner—not just handcuffs.”
Becca nodded, turning her head slightly as she agreed.
“Yeah, that’s correct. When I’m out in public, I’m in high-security transport restraints, like what you’d see with prisoners. That’s probably what people have been telling you they’ve seen. But when I’m at home or in the yard, I don’t have to be in all of that.”
She paused, considering her words. “But, when I’m around others, like now, I do have to be at least in handcuffs behind my back. If my hands are in front, they have to be secured to my waist.”
“Okay,” Tiffany repeated, still looking uncertain, and clearly processing the information. “So, does that mean you’ll always be in handcuffs? Like, whenever we see you, will you be in those? You’re not allowed to have your hands free?”
Becca nodded, understanding the confusion.
“Yes, that’s right,” she said. “If I’m on my property, I’ll be like this—”
She turned slightly and lifted her hands to show the cuffs. “—or my hands will be in front, attached to a leather belt around my waist or a chain.”
She let Tiffany take in this explanation before adding, “But when I’m not here, I’m in the full transport restraints that people seemed to have mentioned.”
Tiffany’s brow furrowed as she tried to wrap her mind around it. “But how do you handle everyday things if you’re in those all the time? Like, how do you drive or even just go about regular activities?”
I noticed a wave of sadness wash over Becca. It seemed like the reality of how restricted her life was going to be was sinking in. The sacrifices she had to make to fulfill her needs, and mine, were becoming more apparent.
With a deep sigh, she said, “I can’t. I—I can’t do any of those things. Not until we get things straightened out.”
She paused for a moment, then added with a warm smile, “Sheriff Collins knows all about this. We spoke with him last week to make sure everything was clear.”
Jenny nodded appreciatively and said, “Oh, good. Sheriff Collins is really great—he’s fair but makes sure everything is enforced to keep everyone safe. You can count on him to look out for the community.”
Her tone subtly conveyed that, as long as Becca was adequately restrained, everything would be fine.
Becca recognized the underlying message but chose not to delve further into the topic. She smiled and nodded, her tone light and accepting.
“That’s good to know,” she said, her words carrying a sense of ease and understanding.
As Becca was responding to Jenny, Tiffany’s expression softened into one of sympathy.
“Okay,” she said, her voice filled with genuine concern. “If you need anything at all, just let us know.”
Becca gave her a grateful smile, appreciating the offer.
Tiffany hesitated, then added, “We can see how it’s affecting you. But we’re sure there’s a good reason behind all of this.”
Becca recognized that Tiffany was trying to understand why she needed to wear the restraints without asking directly.
After a moment, she took a deep breath and said, “It’s a complex situation. As I mentioned, Sheriff Collins is aware of everything. Until things get worked out, well, you’ll see me in different restraints.”
She paused, then added warmly, “It’s really nice to have supportive neighbors like you. I’m sure you’ll help spread the word to the other neighbors?”
Tiffany nodded. “Yes, of course. Plus, everyone will see you soon enough when you walk your dog. And from what you’ve told us, you’ll need to do that in the restraints you described.”
Becca, looking surprised, asked, “Walk our dog?”
Jenny, pointing to the dog bed in the living area, said, “Yes, your dog. We heard it this past weekend. The sound was muffled, but we could hear it howl a few times.”
She added with a smile, “That’s actually how we knew you had moved in.”
Becca smiled and said, “Of course.”
She then turned to me and added, “Sorry about that. We’ll work on trying to keep her quiet, especially in the evenings.”
“So, anyway, it was great to meet both of you. Welcome again to the neighborhood,” Jenny said, giving Tiffany a look and suggesting it was time to leave.
Becca responded, “It was really lovely to meet both of you as well. We’re looking forward to being part of the community and meeting the other neighbors.”
We all nodded in agreement, and Jenny and Tiffany walked down the steps as we closed the door behind them.
With a playful smirk, I looked at Becca and said, “Woof.”
Becca’s face flushed with amusement and embarrassment.
She replied, “I told you! When I’m like that, I really do lose all sense of rationality. I’m—well, I’m just not myself.”
She let out a soft, frustrated laugh. “And those two just confirmed it. I mean, I really do become like a dog in heat. It’s like I can’t think straight at all.”
“We can try a different muzzle,” I suggested. “I think we could put on the ball gag first and then the hood. I’m sure we can make it work.”
Becca shook her head. “No, that’s the gag I need when I feel that way. It fulfills something inside me. It stops me from speaking—it’s like I can’t communicate as a human anymore. I have to express myself like a dog would. I can’t really explain it.”
“Plus, it’s not the gag that’s the issue—it’s the other end.”
She smiled and added, “You need to stop making me beg when I want something, especially now that you know what I want.”
I gave her a quiet but understanding look, my eyes softening with empathy. Seeing my reaction, Becca shook her head as if grappling with her own vulnerability.
“I know what it sounds like,” she said, her voice full of resignation and honesty, “but it’s the truth. It’s like I’m stripped of everything that makes me who I am and become something raw and simple.”
She paused, her gaze drifting as if lost in thought, before meeting my eyes again.
“Next month, you’ll see what I mean. I’ll be driven purely by instinct and need. My body will take over—I’ll be completely engorged and swollen. I’ll only be genuinely happy when you fulfill my need to get pregnant.”
She chuckled softly. “The feeling is so overwhelming that—I’d be perfectly okay if you took me for a walk around the neighborhood.”
Her words carried a weight of acceptance and surrender, revealing a deep-seated trust in me. It was clear that she wasn’t just sharing her experience but also inviting me into a part of her life that she found deeply personal and raw.
I gently kissed her on the forehead and held her close. She put her head on my chest, her hands still cuffed behind her.
I put Becca back into the regular handcuffs, and we spent a peaceful afternoon together. I prepared dinner while Becca set the table. We discussed using some of our savings to buy furniture, including a dining set, now that we had a designated dining area. For now, we were making do with the small table we had brought from our apartment.
“She’ll be here soon,” Becca mentioned.
“Yeah,” I replied, noting the time. “Dinner should be ready in a few minutes.” I glanced at Becca and added, “You can go change, and I can get you into your jewelry.”
Becca looked at me, contemplating the sheriff’s earlier instructions.
“The full set?” she asked. “We’ll explain things to Sophie and see how she reacts?”
She continued, explaining her plan to inform Sophie about Sheriff Collins’ expectations and to gauge if Sophie would say anything if she found Becca only in regular handcuffs without the belt or waist chain.
“Also,” she added, “it’s important to show her how to manage my jewelry in case something happens at the museum. So, it might be best if I’m already in them.”
I nodded in agreement. “You’re right. We’ll show her everything and see if she’s comfortable with you wearing only the regular handcuffs when we’re alone with her. But, if it seems like she might report the situation to the sheriff, we’ll need to use either the waist chain or belt.”
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