The Chef
Copyright© 2025 by R. E. Bounds
Chapter 9: Resigned to Safety’s Embrace
“Hey,” Sophie said as she arrived and took off her coat. “I parked in your driveway—hope that’s okay. If Ben needs to go out, I can move my car, or he can use it. Just let me know what works best for you.”
“That’s fine,” Becca replied with a smile, “It’s better than parking on the street.”
Sophie stood in our foyer, looking effortlessly elegant in a dress with a square neckline and short sleeves. The muted grey top paired with a black skirt that fell to mid-calf featured a peplum waist and decorative floral buttons. The tweed fabric, with silver metallic stitching, added a touch of glamour. Her sheer nude hosiery and classic black three-inch stiletto court heels completed the look.
“You look amazing,” Becca said, glancing down at her shoes. “I thought you said you needed heels.”
Sophie smiled and replied, “I saw you walk in those six-inch stilettos with metal tips at the exhibition opening. And it wasn’t until the end of the night that I realized you were in leg cuffs, too. So, I figured that’s what you meant by heels.”
She chuckled. “These are probably like flats to you.”
Becca smiled back while looking at me. “Yeah, I’m not sure what my body would do in three-inch heels. But those are pretty. They go nicely with your outfit.”
“Thanks,” Sophie said, starting to remove them.
Seeing this, she said, “You don’t need to take them off.”
“But I thought you wanted me on my toes,” Sophie replied, remembering Tuesday’s discussion.
“That’s because I was expecting you’d be in ballet flats or something like that,” Becca said with a smile, clearly pleased that Sophie had remembered. “We’ll work on getting you properly ‘heeled.’ But those are lovely.”
Sophie nodded and smiled. “Properly heeled it is. I’m assuming that means at least four inches?”
“I’m guessing you’re a size eight and a half?” Becca replied. “Maybe a nine?”
“You have it right, I’m a women’s US eight and a half,” Sophie confirmed. “I have big feet.”
Becca dismissed Sophie’s comment and suggested, “Well, since heel height is usually proportional to foot size, I think you’d be most comfortable in five-inch stilettos.”
Sophie replied, surprised, “Really? Five inches?”
Still smiling, Becca responded, “Yeah, I know that seems high, but it will feel completely natural to you.”
She continued, “Many models wear a size nine, which is why they can walk in five-inch heels so gracefully. And with an eight and a half foot, you’ll wear a size nine comfortably—with heels that high, you typically go up a half size.”
“I’m no model,” Sophie said, shaking her head.
“But you are,” Becca insisted. “You’re beautiful and tall, and trust me, five inches will feel ordinary. Look at me—I can walk in them just fine, but I feel like I’m towering. You won’t feel that way until you’re in six inches.”
Sophie’s eyes lit up from Becca’s compliment. “Okay, five-inch stilettos are for everyday wear. But it sounds like I’m going to be wearing six inches for you, too.”
Becca nodded, “Once you’re used to the five inches—Yes, definitely.”
Grinning at the thought of Sophie in six-inch stilettos, she then changed the subject, “Ben made breakfast. Do you want anything to eat before I get you into your restraints—or what we can call jewelry from now on?”
Sophie shook her head. “No, thank you. I had something on the way here. But if Ben usually makes breakfast, I might indulge some other morning?”
“Of course. Let me know what you like,” I told Sophie with a smile. “I cook to please.”
Sophie smiled back. “Thanks. I’m easygoing—I’ll eat anything that doesn’t try to eat me.”
Becca and I chuckled. She then led Sophie to the coffee table, where we had the transport restraints. “Ready?” she asked.
Sophie grinned with excitement as the moment she had been anticipating arrived.
Eager and enthusiastic, she extended her hands and said, “I’m ready. You can put me in the ‘jewelry.’ I’ve heard you call the restraints that before, and I really like it. It sounds intimate and personal.”
Becca carefully secured Sophie, her touch light and reassuring as she again talked Sophie through each step.
“Are you okay?” Becca asked, her voice warm and attentive.
Sophie wiggled playfully in them, testing their hold. She looked at Becca with a teasing smile and said, “I can’t get out—I’m good.”
Her tone was light, and her playful struggle added to their easygoing rapport. “Do you want me to try pulling my hands through just to show you I really can’t escape?”
She gave an inquisitive look, making the moment even more engaging as she friskily pulled at the handcuffs, clearly enjoying the attention.
Becca gave a quiet smile. “No, I know you can’t take those off. I’m stuck wearing them whenever I go out now—I understand there’s no escaping them.”
She then added gently, “You’re in those until I let you out.”
Becca paused for a moment, her tone shifting to something more serious but still warm. “But if you experience any pain or if anything feels wrong—anything—you need to tell me right away, okay? I’ll get you out of those.”
Her voice softened with reassurance. “You’re wearing them to get acclimated and understand what it’s like. I don’t want you to feel distressed in any way. I’m forced to wear these. But you’re not—you can take them off whenever you need to.”
“I’m okay—I feel completely safe with you,” Sophie said with a reassuring smile. “I’ll stay in these as long as you want me to, but I’ll let you know if anything feels off. Otherwise, I don’t want you to take them off. I want to experience this like you do. I guess what I’m saying is to view these on me as a requirement. It’ll help me acclimate and understand what it’s like.”
Becca smiled. “Okay. That’s how we’ll look at it.”
As for the rest of the day, it was quiet. I worked out of a temporary setup in the family room. At the same time, Becca and Sophie used one of the bedrooms as their command center. Eventually, we’d get some furniture for better workspaces, but for now, the arrangement served our needs.
Sophie and Becca took breaks throughout the morning, and around noon, I prepared lunch for everyone. Sophie particularly enjoyed the meal, savoring not just the food but also the extra attention she received from Becca. It was clear she appreciated being pampered and fed, finding pleasure in the care and attention that came with it.
The arrangement worked surprisingly well, and I have to admit, it was nice having Sophie around. Although it felt a bit odd seeing her in restraints instead of Becca, it was clear that Sophie didn’t mind at all. She seemed perfectly content, locked into the transport restraints, showing no signs of discomfort or frustration.
In fact, she appeared happy, which only reinforced Becca’s earlier comments about Sophie’s apparent enjoyment of the situation. The way Sophie embraced her role and seemed genuinely pleased with the set-up added an unexpected layer of ease to what might be a long-term but still temporary arrangement.
It was also clear—more than ever—that Sophie was deeply enamored with Becca. Her behavior, especially her earlier comment about staying in the restraints until Becca “wanted” to release her, reinforced this impression. Sophie’s excitement and eagerness seemed to stem from more than just the immediate situation. Becca was right—Sophie was drawn to the idea of being restrained, but it was evident that her feelings for Becca ran much deeper.
This dynamic was not a fleeting moment but rather the beginning of a growing emotional connection. Over time, Sophie would develop a deep bond with Becca, and Becca, in turn, would become increasingly attached to Sophie. Their relationship was set to evolve into something more profound and intertwined, shaping their interactions and responses in ways that would permanently influence both.
As the workday was ending, we invited Sophie to join us for dinner, but she needed to get home to feed and walk her dog. So, we suggested she bring her along on Tuesdays and Thursdays—Godfried was generally tolerant of other animals and would likely just stay under the bed.
The next day was also quiet and uneventful. Sophie insisted on picking up Becca, mentioning that she would be passing by us anyway. While we appreciated her kindness, we didn’t want to impose. I made sure to let her know that I could handle picking up Becca if needed.
Later that evening, Becca filled me in on the day’s events. As expected for a Friday, there were more visitors, and several people approached her and Sophie to say hello. Remarkably, no one questioned Becca’s restraints; they simply accepted her as she was. Becca was grateful for this, but she was aware that it might not always be this easy. The encounter with the family on Wednesday still lingered in her mind, and she knew that there would be other challenging moments ahead.
Becca also shared with me the decision she had made regarding how to handle questions about her situation. She had informed Sophie earlier in the day that if anyone inquired about them, the straightforward response would be that she needed to wear the restraints while a matter was being resolved.
If people expressed safety concerns, either Becca or Sophie would clarify that as long as Becca was in the high-security restraints, there was no reason for worry. Becca also reminded Sophie that she could use the connecting chain if needed and encouraged her not to hesitate.
Becca hoped this would help people feel more at ease and provide a clear, consistent explanation to counteract any rumors or speculation.
But she realized this would lead people to feel comfortable only if she were in restraints, turning them into a symbol of safety. She believed this perception would arise regardless, as people would naturally assume she wore them due to concerns about her being somehow threatening.
As she shared this with me, I could see the hurt in her eyes. She reflected that Sophie, Rachel, and even the woman in the hotel lobby were right. They knew, and Becca now fully realized, that over time, the restraints would become an inseparable part of her public identity.
This weighed heavily on Becca and manifested itself over the weekend. On Saturday night, I suggested we go out for dinner—perhaps to that little Italian place where we’d dined with Rachel. Afterward, I thought it would be nice to explore the downtown area, which has charming shops and a lively atmosphere. Becca had always enjoyed those kinds of outings, leisurely wandering through shops and soaking in the vibrant street life.
But, when I proposed the idea, Becca hesitated.
“I—” she began, struggling to find the right words. “I don’t want to spend dinner being fed by you in front of everyone.”
Her voice carried a trace of discomfort. “And wandering around shops and having to explain the jewelry sounds exhausting.”
I could see that the thought of being out in public, where her restraints would draw attention and require explanation, was overwhelming for her. The idea of enjoying a casual evening out was overshadowed by the reality of navigating her new circumstances, where simple pleasure now came with its own set of challenges.
“I can call the sheriff’s office and let them know you won’t be in the full jewelry,” I proposed.
“You could wear one of your long skirts and those four-inch block-heeled knee-high boots. Remember a few months ago when we went to that food truck area with the walking path? You mentioned that with the skirt, nobody would even notice the leg cuffs.”
Becca looked thoughtful and then asked, “But what about my hands? Would they be cuffed to the belt or the waist chain? Either way, they’d be confined to my waist, right? Or locked behind my back?”
I nodded, feeling a pang of regret for even suggesting it.
“Yeah, I’m sorry,” I said. “I wasn’t thinking it through.”
She looked up at me from the couch, her eyes reflecting frustration.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I’m just discouraged right now. I know I wanted this, and I still do.”
She glanced down at her cuffed hands. “I guess it’s different when you want to do something versus being forced to.”
I sat down next to her, feeling empathy but mostly regret.
“I’ve been putting you in the jewelry for months, and the jacket—it’s not like I’ve given you many options, if any,” I told her remorsefully.
Becca sighed profoundly and nodded with a soft smile.