The Clerk
Copyright© 2026 by R. E. Bounds
Chapter 11: Do You Understand ... Why?
“Yeah,” Sophie replied, her voice soft but certain. “Institutional. You can tell by the size—it was designed for women. It’s the kind they used in hospitals, back in the day.”
Susan reached out, her fingers brushing over one of the straps. She held it delicately, eyes narrowing with curiosity.
“So ... it’s real?”
Sophie nodded, a slow smile forming. “Yeah. Heavy-duty canvas and cotton. Everything’s double-stitched.” She draped the jacket over one arm, then picked up a metal buckle, letting the straps slide through her fingers before looping them back. “Once you’re in, there’s no wiggling out.”
She held it up fully now, facing it towards Susan
Then, with a subtle tilt of her head, she gestured. “Hold out your arms—I’ll slip it on.”
Susan obeyed, her arms raised, and Sophie guided the jacket onto her, easing the sleeves up as Susan’s hands slid inside. She draped it over her shoulders, smoothing it into place with practiced care.
“Comfortable?” she asked, her tone low and calm. “Does anything pinch?”
“No,” Susan replied, lifting her arms slightly—one side with a buckle, the other with a strap hanging loose. Realizing her hands were completely encased.
“It’s fine.”
Sophie nodded at me, signaling me to step closer.
“Alright,” she said. “I’m going to buckle it all in place.” She gently turned Susan so her back faced her, then pulled the jacket snug and began fastening it.
As she worked, she explained each step—calm, precise, and intimate. Her voice was steady, almost soothing, even as her hands moved with firm intent. She threaded the straps through the buckles, then gave each one a tug—sharp, efficient.
Susan jolted slightly with each pull, her body following the motion.
“Sorry, sweetie,” Sophie said, her tone gentle but unapologetic. “The straps need to be snug.”
She gently stepped in front of Susan and guided one of her arms through a side strap, then the other, so her hands crossed in front of her.
“Are your arms comfortable like that?” she asked. “Or do you want your other arm on top instead?”
Susan glanced down. “This is fine,” she replied.
Sophie moved behind her again, threading the end of the strap from one of Susan’s sleeves through the buckle on the opposite side—just as she had with each of the others. Her motions were practiced, deliberate.
The canvas whispered as it slid through the metal, then came the familiar tug—firm, unhesitating.
Susan tensed as her arms cinched snug across her body.
“There we go,” Sophie murmured, more to herself than to Susan. “It has to be really snug, Susan, for it to work properly.”
She gave the strap one final pull, then let her fingers rest briefly on Susan’s back—reassuring, grounding.
Susan shifted slightly, testing the give. There was only a little.
“I can barely move my arms at all,” she said quietly.
“That’s the point,” Sophie replied, her tone still gentle. “It’s not supposed to fight you—it’s supposed to hold you, so you don’t have to.”
She stepped back around to face her, eyes meeting Susan’s with a calm steadiness.
“It’s not like in the movies,” she said. “Where someone’s arms are totally loose and they’re thrashing around, fighting the jacket.”
Her hands moved to tuck in the stray straps, smoothing down the jacket with care.
“A properly fitted one doesn’t let you thrash. It doesn’t allow you to move at all. It holds you still—quietly. Safely.”
Susan swallowed, the weight of the restraint settling in more deeply now—not just on her body.
“Try pulling your arms apart. As much as you can,” Sophie instructed, her voice calm but with a thread of authority. “Like you’re actually trying to get out.”
Susan did as told, her body shifting with a slight, determined resistance. She strained against the straps, but Sophie could see it clearly—there was a little give, but not nearly enough for escape. The jacket held firm, unyielding.
Sophie watched for a moment, assessing. “I’m going to have Anne hold your arms together and show her how to tighten it more, okay?”
“More?” Susan asked, her voice laced with a hint of disbelief.
Sophie nodded, her gaze steady. “Uh-huh,” she replied, her hands already moving to adjust a few buckles. “You want it on really snug. Where you can move your shoulders a little, but that’s it. If it’s even a little loose, and you start to struggle—try to get out ... you could hurt yourself. Pull something.”
Susan paused, taking in the weight of Sophie’s words, then nodded back, acknowledging the seriousness of the situation.
“Okay,” she said softly, her tone quieter now but still resolute. “That’s fine.”
Sophie then showed me how to do it—placing one arm over Susan’s far shoulder and pulling her arm in, while pressing my chest against the other to draw them together. The pressure from both sides was firm, creating just enough to close any gap.
“Now pull,” she instructed.
I gripped the strap, feeling the tension as I tightened it, inch by inch. The first pull was solid, but we both knew it wasn’t enough. I pulled again, harder this time, tightening the straps until Susan’s arms were pressed fully against her torso. The third time, I could hear the slight strain of the fabric against her skin as I drew it even tighter—just before I couldn’t pull any more.
Sophie nodded, her eyes sharp and focused. “That’s as tight as it needs to be.”
“Try now, sweetie,” Sophie said gently, stepping back.
Susan took a moment, testing the restraint. She twisted her shoulders, her body shifting to try and find any wiggle room—but it was clear she couldn’t move. Her arms were held tight against her body, the jacket doing exactly what it was designed for.
She looked at us, blinking in mild surprise, then gave a small shake of her head with a smile—the kind of smile people give when they’re caught off guard or in disbelief.
“Yeah ... wow. I can’t move.”
Her voice had a mix of amazement and the quiet realization that the jacket was holding her in place exactly as it should. She twisted her shoulders again, testing the restraint, but there was no give, no space for escape.
Sophie’s voice was calm as she asked, “No pain, right?”
Susan paused, briefly assessing the feeling, then shook her head. “No pain. Just ... pressure.”
“Bad pressure?” Sophie asked, her voice soft but probing. “Or good pressure? Like a weighted blanket.”
Susan hesitated for a moment, her shoulders still testing the restraints. She paused, then exhaled slowly, the tension in her body easing as she processed the sensation.
“It’s ... more like the good kind,” she said, her voice steady, though still surprised by the tightness. “Like the kind you get when you’re wrapped up in a heavy blanket—secure, but not ... hurting.”
Sophie gave a small nod, her tone approving. “Exactly. That’s what we’re going for. It’s not supposed to feel painful, just firm and constant. It’s supposed to help you feel safe.”
Susan relaxed a little more, nodding slowly. “Yeah, I can feel that. It’s ... calming.”
“Good,” Sophie replied, her voice smooth and assuring. “That’s the idea.”
“But if you start feeling anything sharp or uncomfortable, let us know.”
Susan nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”
“I’m going to have Anne remove your shorts next,” Sophie said softly. “Okay?”
Susan nodded without hesitation.
I carefully pulled them down. Susan was wearing a pair of Hanes Silk Reflections pantyhose—and as Sophie had requested, no panties underneath. That’s why I had her put on these. With the tan shade, the panty area on this brand was much darker, and I knew it would cover everything up nicely.
Sophie then grabbed one of the straps, threading it underneath Susan and showing me how to buckle it behind her back—though she didn’t tighten it yet. She repeated the process on the other side.
Susan hesitated before asking, “Why are there two straps? The ones in movies ... they only have one.”
Sophie smiled knowingly. “Sex,” she said simply. “It’s hard to have sex in one of these with just a single strap running up the middle. It kind of covers the important parts.”
She gestured casually. “Two straps—as you can see—pull off to the sides when they’re buckled in place.”
Susan gave a small smile, but as Sophie tightened each strap snugly, that smile faded into a grimace.
“Sorry, sweetie,” Sophie said gently. “Need to make sure you can’t pull it over your head. Are they pinching anywhere?”
“No,” Susan replied. “They’re fine.”
Sophie gestured for me to tuck in the excess straps so they wouldn’t hang down. Then she reached down and picked up one of the pair of leather medical restraints.
She took one and wrapped it snugly around Susan’s bicep, threading the metal bar through the leather slit. Holding it in place, she grabbed the longer strap on the table and pulled it through the bar—then repeated the process on the other bicep.
The strap was wrapped around the outside of the cuffs, and fed through a strap built into the jacket in the front. Sophie then buckled it behind Susan’s back, pulling it tight.
It pinned Susan’s arms even closer together—not that the straitjacket hadn’t already done that.
“I know this isn’t really necessary,” Sophie said quietly. “Honestly, the straitjacket is enough.”
She looked at Susan with a steady gaze. “But ... it cinches the arms so tightly that even if you figured out how to pull the jacket over your head, you wouldn’t be able to. It kind of helps you understand—you’re really in this.”
Helping Susan to the couch, Sophie guided her gently down into a seated position. Then she retrieved the second set of leather restraints from the table—ankle cuffs this time.
She knelt in front of Susan, wrapping each wide leather cuff around her ankles and securing them with practiced precision. She threaded the short connecting strap through the squared off rings, the bars, on each cuff, buckling it tight. Sophie used the very last hole on the strap, limiting Susan’s ability to separate her legs to no more than six inches.
Looking up, she explained, “These are adjustable. This is the smallest setting. Keeps you hobbled.”
Then she stood and offered Susan her hands, helping her up. “Come on, sweetie. Walk around for me. Please?”
Susan nodded, her movement stiff. She rose with Sophie’s help, careful and controlled. The tight strap between her ankles immediately made its presence known—forcing her feet close together, robbing her of a normal stride.
She was used to this.
But the way Sophie had buckled these ... that was different. The strap was shorter. Much shorter than what Susan was accustomed to.
She took a tentative step.
Her hips shifted with an awkward sway as she shuffled forward. The short tether between her ankles tugged with every step, limiting her gait to short, careful movements.
It wasn’t walking, not really—it was more of a hobble, a deliberate, almost delicate shuffling motion. Each foot slid forward just a few inches at a time, heel barely clearing the floor before the next cautious step followed.
Her balance shifted forward with each move, arms already bound tightly by the jacket and now further secured by the bicep cuffs and strap. She had to rely almost entirely on Sophie’s steadying hand.
“How’s it feel?” Sophie asked, keeping her voice soft.
“Restrictive,” Susan said breathlessly, glancing down at her feet. “Like ... I have to think about every step.”
“That’s the point,” Sophie said with a soft, affirming smile. “These are meant to keep you moving slow. Controlled. Grounded.”
Susan gave the strap a slight tug, checking the tension again.
“But like I said,” Sophie repeated, her tone calm and reassuring, “they’re adjustable. And just like with the leg cuffs—you’ll get used to them.”
“They’re close to the length of that other set I got,” I added. “You saw them on Bambi, remember? She kind of had to hobble, too.”
Susan nodded again, slower this time. “Yeah. I remember. But these are definitely buckled a little shorter than those.”
“Okay,” Sophie said, her voice steady. “Muzzle’s next.”
As she spoke, her gaze flickered away for just a moment, a brief hesitation I caught. She was calculating something—deciding on the next move.
Her tone wasn’t sharp, though. If anything, it softened, almost apologetic, as if she regretted what came next.
“But first...” She helped Susan back onto the couch, guiding her carefully until she was sitting again. Then she turned back to her, voice gentle.
“Did you and Anne discuss ... did you have any questions about the chastity belt?”
Susan hesitated, her eyes drifting down. After a long moment, she nodded. “Yeah. We did.”
Her voice was flat, almost distant. Not cold, but distant, like the effort to speak took everything she had.
Sophie studied her for a second, then spoke again, slower this time, as if trying to gauge the weight of her words.
“Do you understand ... why?”
The silence stretched. Susan glanced down before meeting Sophie’s eyes again, biting her cheek like she wasn’t sure she could say it aloud.
Finally, she spoke, her voice a whisper. “It’s so I’d know what it feels like. To have someone inside me. To get used to it.”
Her voice cracked slightly, but not from sadness. More from the weight of how real everything suddenly felt.
Sophie nodded, her gaze steady but silent, giving Susan the space to speak without interruption.
Susan exhaled slowly, as though bracing herself.
“I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” she said, her words tentative. “About sex. About ... being tied up.”
She hesitated, gathering her thoughts before continuing. “And what you said tonight...” She paused, her fingers twisting in her lap. “That the first time’s intense. That it’ll hurt. And because I’ll be tied up, it could be even worse. That I won’t be able to say anything. You know ... tell him it hurts.”
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.