The Clerk
Copyright© 2026 by R. E. Bounds
Prologue
Since Sophie started spending more time with us on the weekends, we began to venture out more. She was eager to introduce us to the local community, as well as its various attractions. It was a chance for everyone to get used to seeing the three of us together—and to continue acclimating to the sight of Becca in her restraints.
The Friday afternoon before the exhibition, I headed out to pick up groceries for dinner. When I returned, I was surprised to find both girls dressed as if they were heading out somewhere special. They were wearing dresses, heels, and, of course, stockings. What caught my attention, though, was Sophie. She had her hands cuffed behind her back with hinged handcuffs, her palms facing outward. It was an unusual choice, but somehow, it seemed to fit the moment.
“All dressed up?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
Sophie grinned, her eyes bright with excitement. “Yeah, I thought we might take a walk around downtown for a bit. I know it’s still pretty cold—especially for late March—but it’s a full moon tonight. I figured it’d be a nice chance to get some fresh air, especially after a stressful week. You know, with opening night tomorrow.”
She was referring to all the work Becca, and she had put in at the museum, prepping for the exhibition. I couldn’t disagree with her. A walk through the quaint downtown area seemed like the perfect way to unwind and shake off some of the tension before the big night.
She paused and then added, “And there’s this little place I know of where we can grab a bite. It’s really inexpensive, and the food’s great.”
She shrugged her shoulders, the hint of a playful smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “My treat.”
I glanced at Becca, who was smiling and nodding in agreement. “Okay,” I said, a hint of amusement in my voice. “Sure. That sounds like fun.”
Grinning myself, I added, “Though, people might talk seeing you in those tonight.”
Sophie laughed softly, her eyes twinkling. “This was Becca’s doing,” she explained. “I was just slipping into my heels when she decided to get playful.”
Sophie turned slightly, giving me a teasing glimpse of her cuffed hands. “And, well, Becca took things a little further,” she said with a mischievous smile, her eyes dancing with an unspoken story of what had happened earlier.
Then, with a more daring glint, she leaned in just enough to make sure I caught her words. “Do you like me like this? I can stay like this for you tonight. All you have to do is get Becca into her transport jewelry ... and then, you’ll have to take care of both of us.”
I raised an eyebrow, considering her offer. “So, you’d be willing to wear jewelry out in public?” I asked, my voice one of curiosity and intrigue. “You’d be okay with staying in them, even when we’re not at home? The same way we just ... put you in them here?”
Sophie nodded, a slow, seductive smile curling on her lips. “Uh-huh,” she replied, her voice dripping with suggestion. “You could even take me out in the transport jewelry.”
With a playful tug at her cuffed hands, she demonstrated how she couldn’t escape, mimicking the way Becca often did when she was in a teasing mood.
I nodded, a playful smile tugging at my lips, before disappearing for a few minutes. When I returned, I was carrying both Becca’s and Sophie’s transport restraints, as well as Becca’s coat—the one she wore last fall, which did a great job of hiding her cuffed hands. I also grabbed the coat Becca was wearing with her dress tonight.
“Really?!” Sophie exclaimed, her eyes widening in surprise.
I didn’t respond immediately. Instead, I carefully took off her handcuffs, setting them aside. “Get Becca ready for tonight, please.”
Sophie nodded and moved to help Becca into her coat, then locked her into the restraints. As she finished, Sophie glanced over at Becca. “How are they?” she asked.
Becca tugged against the restraints, proving they were secure, and looked up at Sophie. “Fine,” she said with a smile, a playful challenge in her eyes as she pulled again, showing both of us she couldn’t escape.
I looked at Becca, smiling in return. “Hmm. The chain on those leg cuffs is pretty long,” I said, my gaze lingering on the restraints. “And those heels aren’t very high ... Are those your five-inch stilettos?”
Sophie grinned and disappeared into our bedroom, only to return a moment later with Becca’s dominatrix heels, the tall ones that always made a statement.
Becca raised an eyebrow, clearly a bit exasperated. “I’m wearing six-inch stilettos tonight?” she asked, a hint of disbelief creeping into her voice. But it was too late. Sophie had already knelt down and expertly slipped Becca out of her five-inch heels, replacing them with the towering six-inch ones.
Sophie smiled up at Becca, her eyes dark with playful intent, and stood, leaning in for a slow, seductive kiss. “Yes,” she murmured between kisses, “It’s my turn to take advantage of you.”
I couldn’t help but watch, amused by the dynamic between them. But I quickly snapped out of it and picked up the handcuffs, gesturing toward Sophie. “Please, put on that coat,” I said, pointing to the one I had brought out earlier—the one that would hide her cuffs.
Sophie gave a slight nod and slid the coat on, smoothing it down. I then slipped the handcuffs over the cuffs of the coat, securing them tight. Next, I added the metal lockbox, attaching it to the waist chain I had already slipped around Sophie, ensuring it was snug above her dress but beneath her coat. With a satisfying click, I locked everything into place with a padlock.
I adjusted the cuffs on the coat, buttoned it up neatly, and stepped back to take in the result. “There,” I said with a sense of finality. “You’re properly restrained, and no one will know.”
Becca and I both watched as Sophie tested her restraints, pulling at the cuffs and realizing just how tightly and securely she was locked in, the coat concealing everything perfectly. She tugged again, unable to budge the handcuffs or the waist chain.
Standing there, her wrists pressed together at waist level, Sophie glanced up at me. “What now?” she asked, a little breathless but still amused.
I smiled, taking a step back. “Two more things,” I said, then disappeared into the bedroom. When I returned, I was holding one of Becca’s purses in one hand and, in the other, the dominatrix heels we’d gotten from Lisa last Friday.
I handed Sophie the purse, which she took with a bit of hesitation. She gripped it in her hand, but her eyes were still focused elsewhere, her expression tight with concern. As she adjusted the purse, Becca’s voice broke through her thoughts.
“It’ll look more natural now,” Becca said, her tone light and teasing. “Just like you’re properly holding a purse. Like a proper woman.”
Sophie nodded, but her gaze shifted back to the six-inch stilettos in my other hand. Her breath hitched slightly as her eyes widened. “I’m—I’m wearing those too?!” she asked, her voice faltering, almost incredulous. The concern in her eyes was intense, and she glanced at the towering heels as though she hoped they might suddenly disappear.
I gave a slight nod, but my gaze flicked toward Becca, silently seeking confirmation. Becca met my eyes and, sensing the tension in the room, stepped in with her calm assurance.
“Yes,” Becca replied, her voice steady but with a hint of encouragement. “You’ll be okay—you’re not leg cuffed.”
But Sophie’s gaze lingered on the heels for a moment longer, her concern still written all over her face. She clearly wasn’t quite sure how she’d handle them, but the reassurance from Becca seemed to calm her, if only slightly. It was clear that while she trusted us, the reality of the situation—the weight of the heels, the unfamiliar discomfort—was beginning to sink in.
Before she could voice any more doubts, I moved quickly. I slipped her out of the five-inch heels she was already wearing, one by one. The motion was fluid, but Sophie didn’t react—she was lost in her thoughts, too focused on what was ahead to protest.
Once the five-inch stilettos were off, I slid her feet into the six-inch heels. As soon as her feet were entirely inside, Sophie’s body shifted slightly, instinctively trying to adjust. Her foot was vertical in the heels, and there was a brief moment of stillness as Sophie stood there, her body feeling the change. The unfamiliar height made her legs feel longer but also more fragile. There was a hint of uncertainty in her movements.
Sophie took a careful, tentative step forward, her balance wobbling just a little. She stopped, readjusting, as her feet were not used to the additional height and pressure. I could see her mentally recalibrating, trying to adjust her center of gravity as the heels forced her posture upright.
Becca stepped in immediately, her hands lightly resting on Sophie’s waist for support. “It’s not negotiable, Sophie,” she said softly, her voice steady, though the playful edge remained. “You’re wearing them. We’ll both look better in the same height heels anyway.”
Sophie hesitated for a moment before taking another small step, her foot arching further with each shift of weight. She could tell the heels weren’t just tall—they were unforgiving. Becca smiled a little, continuing, “Besides, this way, people might not even notice the height difference between us. If we both have the same heels on, it’ll look like we planned it.”
Sophie gave a slight nod, her gaze fixed on the ground as she focused on each step, adjusting to the six-inch stilettos with cautious precision. Her hands were still locked in place, her wrists firmly held at her waist, the cuffs a constant reminder of her current position. The restriction from the restraints was something she couldn’t escape.
She took another careful step, trying to find her balance. There was a moment of frustration—her body wasn’t used to the new height, the added pressure on her feet—but she stayed silent, pushing through. Sophie had to keep her movements slow, focusing on maintaining her balance and feeling every shift of weight beneath her.
She wasn’t thrilled by the challenge, but she wasn’t backing down either. It wasn’t a matter of choice anymore; she was in the heels, and there was no going back.
Seeing the way they looked at each other, I couldn’t help but smile, sensing the tension that lingered between them. “You two obviously started something earlier,” I said. “It’s all over your faces. I can make us dinner, and you can finish what you started ... in the bedroom.”
Becca’s grin spread from ear to ear, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “That might be fun,” she said, her voice light and teasing.
Sophie looked at Becca, a hint of uncertainty in her expression as she gestured toward her restraints. “Like this?!” she asked, motioning to the cuffs on her wrists and the full transport restraints Becca was wearing.
I nodded, my voice calm but firm. “Yes, like that. Those don’t come off,” I said, watching Sophie’s reaction closely. “Not until you finish what you started ... or until we return from going out. Either way, you’ll both be in those. It’s not negotiable.”
Hearing my words and understanding I was being playful but also serious, Sophie’s expression softened, and she leaned in to kiss Becca again, her kiss lingering with a playful, affectionate intensity. When she pulled back, she smiled and said in a defiant voice, “Okay. I guess we’re both going out like this.”
Looking at me, she pointed to the leg cuffs and connecting chain on the couch. “Bring those?” she asked, smiling. “In case I need to be fully restrained on the way home? It’ll be so much easier to handle me that way when we go to bed.”
She then whispered softly in Becca’s ear, her voice filled with affection and playful surrender. “And being in the full transport jewelry ... completely helpless ... I’ll have no choice to wear whatever lingerie you want ... and I’ll be yours for the night. All yours.”
Sophie’s words carried a sense of genuine consent, but there was also a deeper sense of trust and devotion. She wanted to give herself completely to Becca, not just physically but emotionally as well. It was clear Sophie was ready to fully embrace the evening’s possibilities and let Becca take the lead, comfortable in the knowledge that everything was agreed upon between them.
I grabbed my own jacket and the rest of Sophie’s restraints and helped the girls out the backdoor and into the car. Becca sat in the front passenger seat, as she was the most restrained, while Sophie settled in the back since she wasn’t wearing leg cuffs. The drive to the downtown area was uneventful—mostly light conversation about tomorrow’s exhibition—but we kept the tone casual, steering clear of anything too serious.
When we arrived, I found a parking spot and helped Becca out of the car first, letting her stand on the sidewalk for a moment. I knew the attention would be on her, given the visible transport restraints that were clearly part of her current attire. While Sophie was also in restraints, they weren’t noticeable. So, as I helped her out, most of the passersby were focused on Becca.
Standing there on the sidewalk, both girls restrained in their own ways, the scene felt almost surreal. The way Sophie gestured ahead, guiding us slowly down the street, spoke to the quiet confidence they both shared despite their circumstances. The girls took slow steps in their six-inch stilettos, the click of their heels echoing on the pavement. Their dresses and coats clung to their bodies as they moved, both of them managing with the elegance of someone used to the challenge.
Becca, with her leg cuffs securely locked around her ankles, moved with a bit more effort. Each step required more concentration, as the cuffs restricted her stride, but she managed to keep pace with Sophie. Despite the added restraint, Becca’s movements were still graceful, her posture upright and composed.
Sophie, on the other hand, had a slight advantage. Her heels, though equally tall, were a bit more manageable—partly because she had a larger foot, as Becca had once explained. The difference wasn’t much, but it made her steps slightly easier, allowing her to move with a little more fluidity.
As we walked, Becca spotted a tiny bookstore tucked between two larger shops. Her eyes lit up—clearly eager to go inside.
The dim light inside the second-hand bookstore gave it a quiet, almost mysterious atmosphere. The air was thick with the scent of old paper and leather, and the shelves seemed to stretch on forever, crammed with titles both familiar and obscure. In other words, the place had a musty, nostalgic charm, as though it hadn’t changed in decades. The quiet hum of the occasional customer flipping through pages was the only sound that filled the room, making it the perfect retreat from the hustle of the outside world.
Sophie and Becca moved together down the narrow aisles, the floorboards creaking beneath their heels as they navigated through the narrow gaps between shelves. The books seemed to tower above them—ancient volumes with cracked spines and faded titles. But for both of them, reaching for anything above waist level proved a challenge.
As we wandered deeper into the rows, a young woman behind the counter caught sight of us and made her way over. She was dressed casually—wearing a simple skirt, tights, flats, and a snug sweater that contrasted with the more formal appearance of Becca and Sophie. Her movements were relaxed, but there was a curious, intrigued glint in her eyes as she approached us.
She smiled politely as she stopped in front of the girls, her gaze briefly flicking to Becca’s restraints before returning to their faces. She seemed unaware that Sophie was wearing the same type of restraints. “Can I help you find anything?” she asked, her tone warm but mesmerized by Becca.
Sophie glanced at Becca, then looked back at the young woman with a smile, her voice soft but friendly. “We’re just browsing, thank you,” she said, her words as polite as ever despite the constraints that made the whole browsing experience a bit more challenging.
“Well, if you need anything or if you’d like me to pull a book down for you, just let me know,” she offered, her tone carrying a subtle sense of understanding, perhaps recognizing that reaching for higher books was no simple task for Becca.
“Thanks,” Becca said, offering the young woman a polite smile. “I’ll let you know if we need help with anything.”
The woman nodded, starting to step away. But then she turned back around, a slight furrow in her brow. “You’re that woman, aren’t you?” she said, almost as if realizing something. “You’re the one I’ve heard about—the one who ... has to wear ... those?”
Becca looked up, a small, amused smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Yeah, that’s me,” she said, her voice calm, as it was a question she had heard many times before.
Becca then gently tugged at her cuffed wrists, showcasing the restraints, allowing the woman to see how firmly they held her in place. The sound of the chains clicking lightly as Becca adjusted her hands punctuated the moment.
“I thought my sister was making it up,” the woman said, her voice a mix of surprise and disbelief. “Or maybe exaggerating. I just thought you were ... in handcuffs or something. But this?” She paused, looking at Becca again.
“But you really are in those chains they put on prisoners...” The realization seemed to settle in, and the woman’s eyes widened slightly. “Like, what you see on TV. When they have to be taken to court and stuff.”
Becca smiled again, her expression soft but knowing. “Yeah, I’m in what they make inmates wear when they have to be transported,” she said, tugging again at the restraints lightly as if to emphasize the full extent of her situation. Then she asked, “Your sister?”
“Yeah,” the woman replied. “She works at the department store in the hosiery section. She sells pantyhose, and she said the two of you came in to buy some. And, well, you were ... like this.”
Nodding in agreement, Becca replied, “I remember her.” She then looked at Sophie. “We stopped by one day after work, and she helped us pick out some hosiery for Sophie.” She then added, so that’s your sister?
The young woman nodded, her expression shifting slightly as she processed the conversation. “Yeah, that’s her,” she said. “Anyway, she’d described both of you to me, but ... well, I guess it never dawned on me that you were really in all that stuff.”
Becca gave a soft, knowing smile. “Yeah, most people don’t realize how extensive it is until they see it up close,” she said with a slight shrug, clearly used to the reaction by now. “But it’s just part of life for me.”
Sophie, who had been quietly observing the conversation until now, glanced over at the young woman with a casual smile as if the situation didn’t faze her in the slightest. There was a slight twinkle of amusement in her eyes—perhaps at how the woman hadn’t yet noticed the restraints around her own wrists. Sophie shifted slightly, a soft metallic sound of chains shifting as she adjusted her position. It was subtle enough that the young woman likely overlooked it. Still, her gaze flickered for just a moment toward Sophie’s hands.
Then her expression softened, returning to the polite professionalism she’d been maintaining. She seemed to hesitate for a moment, unsure of what she had heard, but after a brief pause, she simply nodded. “Well, if you need anything, just let me know,” she said, her voice warm but combined with a new layer of doubt. She stepped back slightly, giving the girls space to continue browsing.
After browsing the store for a while longer, the three of us made our way toward the front door. The store had grown quieter, the only sound being the soft shuffle of the girls’ heels against the worn floorboards. As we approached the exit, the young woman—who had been lingering near the counter—seemed almost hesitant. Still, there was something about the way she watched us that made it clear she had more on her mind.
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