The Practitioner
Copyright© 2026 by R. E. Bounds
Chapter 22: Do You Want That?
“I’m okay. Just ... sore,” Isla murmured, her eyes still closed as she shifted carefully on the couch. A soft breath escaped her lips. “It was ... really big.”
I watched her for a moment, unsure how to respond. My voice came out low and tentative.
“It seemed to help you relax, though. You were a lot calmer than on Thursday.”
Her eyes opened slowly, thoughtful. She nodded, but there was hesitation in her expression.
“Yeah ... I guess that was the point. But still—it felt huge. It definitely gave me that full, stretched feeling.”
Her eyes drifted to the gear bag on the floor. I followed her gaze.
“Why do we still have all that?” she asked quietly, her voice uncertain. “Didn’t Sophie and Becca say they’d return it to the artist?”
I shifted beside her, choosing my words carefully.
“They did ... but after she saw you in it—after watching how naturally you responded—she said it felt wrong to take it back.”
Isla looked at me, eyebrows drawn together.
“She thought I was ... meant for it?”
I nodded slowly, watching her reaction.
“She said most just play a role. But with you, it didn’t feel like play. She said it was rare. That it might be ... important to your journey.”
Her lips parted slightly, breath catching. She didn’t pull away.
“Journey? You’re saying ... she thought I should be your pet?”
I could see Isla trying to make sense of it all, her lips pressed together in quiet thought.
“That I should stay in that role? Kept on all fours, learning to have a dick in my mouth, and a butt plug filling me from behind. And having to wear a dildo deep inside me ... so I don’t end up getting pregnant?”
I exhaled slowly, trying to calm the tension in my voice.
“Like I said ... she was different. Intense. But that doesn’t mean you have to wear anything or play any role unless you want to. I think she ... saw something in you. Something rare. And it meant something to her.”
There was a long pause. Isla’s voice came out soft—almost fragile.
“What did you tell her?”
I reached out and gently touched her arm, trying to ground her.
“I said ... thank you?” I murmured. Then I met Isla’s gaze.
“And that you’re an actress. That you live your parts. Completely.”
She nodded slowly, but there was still a weight behind her eyes. Uncertainty lingered in the air between us.
“So, what do you want?” she whispered. Her voice carried something deeper—an emotion that hadn’t fully taken shape yet. “Wearing the puppy hood is one thing. But being on all fours ... feeling like if you’re not inside me, trying to get me pregnant, I might lose my mind?”
She paused, breathing through the complexity of it.
“Do you want that?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Me on all fours?” She hesitated, then continued, more slowly, searching for the right words.
“You’re into the whole submissive, obedient thing. But ... does this go deeper? Is it also that ‘barefoot and pregnant’ fantasy?”
She looked down, almost uncertain.
“Because being down like that—on all fours—it kind of feels like that. Like I’m not just submitting ... but surrendering everything. My body. My control. Even the idea of choice. And I’m trying to understand if that’s what this means for you.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“You don’t have to wear any of that again if you don’t want to.”
Isla looked at me, curious but cautious.
“What did Sophie and Becca say?” she asked.
“Do they know the artist told you we could keep all that stuff?”
I nodded.
“Becca knows. She was there when the artist said it. And then she told Sophie.”
Isla paused, studying me.
“Did they say anything? Did they have a reaction?”
“Becca seemed excited. Happy,” I tried to explain softly.
“She said that now you have your own pet play gear, so you could be put in it each month when you’re ovulating. She made it sound like a way to mark that moment—your body signaling it’s ready, wanting to get pregnant. And that it would make things easier when we decide to start our family.”
“What! Are you saying I’d get pregnant like that? On all fours, like a bitch in heat?” Isla asked sounding beyond surprised.
I shrugged, trying to keep my tone even.
“That’s what it sounded like. If I put you in all of it every month, it’d help you get used to it—make it feel natural.”
She looked at me, searching.
“Feel natural?” she repeated. “You think conceiving a child naturally means having the wife or girlfriend on all fours like a dog?” She looked at me, eyes narrowed. “That’s what it takes to make conception feel natural to you?”
“No,” I responded, “I’m saying that’s what Becca said.”
Isla sighed. “And Sophie?”
“She was more concerned. Said you need to be on birth control,” I told her quietly. “That you can’t wear a dildo like the one you had last night for days on end every month.”
She frowned slightly. “So, she thinks I should be in that stuff too? She didn’t say I shouldn’t do it ... didn’t say I shouldn’t be in that shit at all. Period.” She looked at me. “But that I should be? Every month? And with the sex part?” Her voice trailed off, uncertain. “You fucking me like a dog?”
“Uh,” I shook my head, smiling softly. “I think she assumed you’d just be in it. And that if you’re going to be in all that stuff every month from now on, it’s way more fun with the actual sex part.”
Isla closed her eyes, letting out a slow breath.
“So, the artist believes I should fully take on the role of a pet,” she said quietly, “and the Prescotts think I should do it every time I’m ovulating—to get used to it ... so one day I can get pregnant like that.”
She sighed, a hint of dry humor in her voice.
“Great.”
Isla’s voice sharpened, emotions bubbling beneath the surface.
“So, what do you want?” she asked again, her tone tense.
I took a breath, steadying myself.
“It’s whatever you want,” I said gently. “You don’t have to wear any of that again if you don’t want to.”
She shot back, voice firm and cutting.
“You’re not answering me,” she said. “When I’m on birth control ... will you want me like that? Just a few days every month?”
“Only if you—” I started.
She cut me off sharply.
“I’m a bitch in heat. I can’t think straight or even remember things afterward. All I remember is how I felt. And unless there’s a large dildo inside me, calming me down and making me feel full, all I want is to be fucked. And that means you coming inside me.”
“We ... we could try it. See how it feels? If you like it?” I began, my voice unsure.
Isla cut me off, again. “Noah, I’ll like it. I’ll be emotionally restless, clingier, moodier—and my body will want sex all the time. Kind of like right now.”
“You want me right now?” I asked, my voice dropping to a quiet murmur.
She nodded.
“But you said you were sore.”
“I am,” she said quickly. “Really sore. That tail didn’t help, and my jaw’s still a little achy from the muzzle.” She looked at me, steady. “Spending hours with a gag shaped like that ... yeah, it’s not exactly comfortable.” She paused, then added with a dry edge, “But I guess that’s part of the training.”
“So, that means no bondage,” she said firmly. “You have to be your normal size. You know ... before everything.”
She glanced at me again, more serious now. “And I’m pretty sure I could get pregnant right now.” Then she looked up, letting out a sigh. “so ... that means a condom, too.”
I nodded, unhappily. “I don’t think we’ll have time. We’ve got to head over to the Prescotts so you can get dressed for the event this afternoon.”
Isla blinked at me, confused. “Event?”
“Last night,” I said, frowning a little. “After your vignette ended? I took everything off you except the hood—because the keys for the pet play gear didn’t match the ones for our puppy hood, and I forgot to grab the right set.”
I went on, “I helped you into that black cocktail dress?”
She looked at me, still uncertain. “I don’t remember.”
Then she asked, “The dress hanging over the bathroom door?”
I nodded. “Yeah. It’s Becca’s. You wore it last night. I got you out of the hotpants, bodystocking—everything. You spent the rest of the night in that lacy bra, panties, garter belt, stockings, and Becca’s Domina heels. Actually, it was all Becca’s.”
“You really don’t remember any of it?” I asked gently.
She shook her head again. “No. So ... what’s this event?”
“We were coming out of the bathroom, and the artist was there with Becca and Veronica,” I explained. “She stopped us—said we should keep the pet play items. Then she asked if you’d help with something today. A private art showing. Just a dinner for some of her closest clients.”
“And I agreed?”
“You nodded,” I said.
“Wait ... the gag was still in my mouth?” Isla asked, eyebrows raised.
“Yeah. I didn’t have the keys—I couldn’t get it out.”
She blinked, processing. “And you said you helped me change. You took out the plug and the dildo, right?”
“The tail, yeah,” I said. “But not the dildo.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why not?”
“You wouldn’t let me,” I reminded her gently. “You ... stopped me.”
She closed her eyes. “I wasn’t in my right mind,” she murmured. Then added, “You should’ve just cuffed my hands behind me, eased me into it ... got me aroused, and then taken it out.”
“Sophie had your cuffs,” I explained. “She was with Ben—he was helping her move something.”
Isla’s eyes opened slowly. “Sophie had my cuffs?”
“Yeah. Becca asked if she could wear them instead of her usual ones, and I said sure. There was no reason to say no.”
Isla nodded. “Did she say anything about them?”
“She mentioned they were a lot heavier than the ones they usually use. Said they felt more serious. But they were definitely the ones they used back then. The cuffs looked just like the ones I guess Steve put her in.” I paused for a second. “And that she was actually worried Becca might lose the keys. Told me she’s never had that concern with her own cuffs—but yours...”
Isla nodded again, taking it all in. “So ... I was still in the penis gag and the dildo when the artist asked about the event?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
She sighed, sounding exhausted. “I wasn’t in my right mind. So, what exactly did I agree to again?”
“You’ll be walking around serving hors d’oeuvres at a private event for the artist this afternoon,” I explained.
“That’s it?” she said, surprised. “That can’t be all. It sounds way too easy.”
“You’ll be in a French maid outfit, the puppy hood, your collar ... and she mentioned mitts, too.”
“So, I’ll basically be fetish eye candy?” she asked flatly.
“Yeah. Pretty much.”
“Wait, if Sophie was in my restraints, and I wasn’t in the pet play stuff ... does that mean I wasn’t restrained?”
“No,” I said with a smile. “You were.”
I then tried to explain, “Remember what Sophie said. She worked something out with the local sheriff’s office? There were two officers present.” I added, “Plus, you were hooded the entire time, just like some of the other women. They had no way of knowing who was who. And I’d never seen those officers before, so they didn’t recognize me. No way to trace me back to you.”
“But you started tugging at the hood,” I told her. “So, I had to put the mitts back on. Then later, I had to cuff your hands behind you because you were trying to pull the mitts off.”
“But you said Sophie was in my cuffs?” she asked.
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