Chapter 14: I’m Now Restrained ... Completely

“Are Bambi’s going to be on like this?”

Susan was complaining about the restraints ... again—how I had locked her into them. She had a point.

The waist chain was a bit snug, cinched tightly around her middle, which kept her hands pulled higher, elbows bent less naturally. But we were going out for the evening, and I needed to make sure she couldn’t slip out of them—even if it was accidentally.

“They’re on the same way they were for your last date,” I told her. “You’re fine. Your hands are just a little higher, closer to your stomach. It’s okay.”

I rotated her wrists in the cuffs gently. “See? You can still move fine.”

“Here,” I said, handing her the leg cuffs threaded through the connecting chain. “I’ll lock these on downstairs.”

I helped Susan down the stairs and had her kneel on the chair by the counter while I secured the leg cuffs in place. Then I helped her turn around and sit.

She stretched out her legs, crossed them slowly, then lifted them again and adjusted—the only way she could really manage it with the leg cuffs on.

The dress didn’t help much either. It was a deep charcoal, almost black, with that quiet, serious tone—the kind that whispered elegance instead of shouting it. It fell just below the knee in a sleek sheath cut, tailored snug around her waist before gliding straight down, giving her a long, sculpted silhouette that was nothing short of stunning.

The neckline was modest—a shallow, squared-off bateau that skimmed her collarbones, leaving just enough bare skin to tease the imagination. It had that old-world grace, something classic, restrained ... and undeniably alluring. The sleeves were short, not quite cap but enough to cover the shoulder, striking this perfect balance—formal, refined, but unbelievably sexy in its restraint.

I knew it would restrict her walk, but no more than the leg cuffs already did—and honestly, that was part of the point. I wanted her to show just a little more each time. With every date she had with Bobby, the dress would inch shorter, the sleeves would shrink, the neckline dip just a little lower.

And paired with sheer, silky gartered stockings and five-inch open-toe stilettos, there was no way he’d be able to keep his eyes—or his thoughts—off her.

“Bambi should be here soon,” she said, glancing at the wall clock. It was just past six, and all that was left was to get Bambi into her restraints before Bobby arrived.

“And she knows its tonight?” I asked.

“Yes,” she replied. “They both know.”

We were supposed to do this last Friday, but I had to work. One of the other girls called off, and my boss was in a panic. It worked out, though—she’s the one who usually handles inventory. So last Friday, I had to take over, which gave me the perfect chance to fix the issue with that one pair of heels that accidentally walked out on my feet.

And I didn’t feel bad about it—not after being screwed out of bonuses and commissions for years. All I did was apply the same monkey math management used on their employees to the inventory system that night.

“You never told me about your dress-up date at the department store,” she added with a teasing smile.

“It wasn’t a date,” I insisted. “She just tried on some clothes and bought something for tonight.”

Susan grinned. “Sexy, I hope.”

I didn’t respond.

She smiled, then pointed toward the door. Bambi stood there, face pressed against the glass. I grinned, walked over, and opened it.

“You can just come in, you know,” I said.

She gave me that quiet smile and stepped inside, and I locked the door behind her, flipping the sign over to closed.

She was wearing the suit she’d bought last week—sharp, sculpted, and dangerously elegant. Jet black. Tailored so perfectly it looked like it obeyed her body more than it dressed it. The jacket cinched at the waist, pulling in just enough to highlight every curve with unapologetic intent, while the deep plunge of her crisp white shirt left no doubt—yes, as Susan had once bluntly put it, “She’s definitely got boobs.” The collar was high and wide, flaring like wings about to take flight, framing her neck and collarbones with a sleek, almost architectural precision.

The pencil skirt hugged her hips and narrowed just below the knee, holding her legs in a near-perfect line as she walked, each step confident, with the sharp click of her heels punctuating the silence. She didn’t just enter a room—she claimed it. Every inch of fabric, every cut of that suit dared you to look at her and assume less than she was.

And it didn’t hurt that she was easy on the eyes. Not drop-dead gorgeous like Sophie, or that effortlessly stunning girl-next-door vibe Becca had. But Bambi—she was beautiful. Just beautiful.

And yes—she wore the ultra-sheer nude hose I had picked out. The kind that were barely there, but definitely were. They creased faintly when she shifted her weight, whispering the suggestion of something softer beneath.

And the shoes. Five and a half inches, sculpted black patent stilettos with pointed toes and a metal-tipped heel. When they hit the floor, they didn’t just make a sound. They made a statement.

Susan straightened her legs and shifted them apart slightly to adjust the cuffs around her ankles, then leaned forward in her chair, gathering herself before pushing upright. She hobbled a little as she stood, finding her balance. It was the only way she could stand up.

She was also sore. So, the snugness of the dress, holding her legs together just added to it.

“Hi,” Bambi said softly, stepping forward as well. The skirt she wore clung tight. Really tight. Limiting her stride, keeping her knees just a few inches apart as she moved.

But just like that Tuesday night—she was fine. She walked in the heels just fine. In the skirt? Fine.

“You look beautiful,” she said to Susan—and then, without warning, wrapped her in a hug. No hesitation. Just warmth.

Susan stretched her palms outward, the only way she could accommodate Bambi. Noticing, Bambi took a step back.

“Sorry,” she said, a little sheepish. “I kind of forgot. I’m so used to you like this ... it’s like you’re not in them.”

“It’s okay,” Susan replied with a smile. “It’s just how you have to hug in these things.”

Bambi nodded, grinning in return.

Then her eyes landed on me, and they widened with surprise.

“You look really beautiful too, Anne,” she said quietly and with a smile. “Did you wear a suit for me?”

I nodded. “I ... I didn’t want you to feel awkward. Being the only one ... you know ... in a business suit.”

She glanced at Susan, like they were sharing a secret, then shrugged. “It’s fine. I wanted this suit ... remember?”

I had shown her a bunch of dresses—some skirt-and-blouse combos too—but she kept gravitating toward the suits. Especially the one she had on now. It just fit her. Like, really fit her.