The Practitioner
Copyright© 2026 by R. E. Bounds
Epilogue
“Hey,” Sophie said as I opened the door.
“Sorry, I know it’s early,” she added. “But Becca and I are heading to work soon, and since we’ll be out, we figured we could swing by the dry cleaners and get those jackets cleaned for you.”
Smiling, she added, “And we were also wondering if Isla might want to spend the day with us at the museum?”
“Uh...” I hesitated, not sure what to say. “You really don’t have to do that,” I said. “We can get them cleaned ourselves.”
“It’s really not a problem,” Sophie insisted. “Honestly, it’s no big deal. Plus, like I said, I know the folks there. They’re used to me dropping off ... interesting items.”
I nodded. “Okay,” I said. “But Isla’s still sleeping. She was up kind of late.”
Sophie gave a knowing smile. “Is she able to get up on her own, or does she need your help?”
I must have turned beet red, because Sophie’s smile widened.
“Uh ... she can call out and walk around,” I mumbled, “but she’ll need some help if ... um ... if she wants to use her hands.”
“So, she was okay with it all?” Sophie asked gently, like she was testing how far she could go with the questions.
“I took her out of the frog tie after you left,” I said, “and just fastened the strap around the ankle cuffs so she could walk.”
I caught myself. “Well—hobble, really. She wanted the strap as short as possible, kind of like the shorter leg cuffs.” I hesitated, then added, “She stayed muzzled too.”
Sophie’s voice stayed soft. “So ... she was able to tolerate it?”
“Yeah,” I said, surprised even as I admitted it. “She was fine. I mean, with the medical tape and the muzzle tightened that much, she couldn’t talk—so I’m glad you showed us the whole ‘left foot, right foot’ thing. I mean, Isla had already shown me that. But ... it was nice to go over it again.” I then refocused, “Yeah ... she stayed in it all day.”
Sophie smiled, then tilted her head. “And later...?”
I felt myself flush again. “We did what you suggested. The pantyhose, the jacket with the double straps, the muzzle, the tape, and the frog tie. I pulled her feet in tight like you showed me—she couldn’t move at all.”
“And she was okay?”
“I think so. More than okay, actually. She seemed ... calm.” I paused. “And honestly, I felt better too. With her in that stuff, I didn’t have to worry about circulation, or bruising like with some of the other things we’d tried.”
“So, it was easier for her?” Sophie asked.
“Uh...” I hesitated, feeling my face flush with embarrassment.
Sophie smiled warmly. “I’m sure Isla told you what Becca said about Ben.” She gave a small laugh. “Really—it’s okay. Becca’s spent her fair share of time in her jacket. Back when she could still fit into it, anyway. And I’ve got one too. Along with leather cuffs and straps. A muzzle, even. But ours have blindfolds.”
She kept smiling. “Becca’s been helping me adjust—I’ll be wearing it when we start trying for our second child.”
She looked at me, her expression kind but steady. “So, it’s okay, Noah. Really. We’re all learning from this—me, Becca, Ben. You’re not alone in this. And neither is Isla.”
I walked over to the coffee table and picked up the leather blindfold, handing it to Sophie. “I found it yesterday—had fallen behind the shelving.”
She smiled, taking it in her hands. “Yep,” she said. “Similar to ours. It buckles behind the head, matches the muzzle. The straps loop through the sides to keep it snug, in place.”
“So, how did Isla do?” Sophie asked, circling back to her earlier question. “I mean, last night—was it easier for her?”
“She struggled, like she’s been doing. But it was more controlled—because she really couldn’t move. Not like with the cuffs,” I said. “With those, she’d squirm hard, twisting and pulling against them. Last night ... it was different. More like a slow, frustrated wiggle—trying to pull her arms around or her feet down. But she couldn’t.”
I paused, then added quietly, “She mostly screamed. But it was what you said ... it was all muffled.”
“And that was with the blindfold in place?” Sophie asked.
“No,” I replied. “I didn’t use it.”
She smiled. “Use it.” She picked up the blindfold again and carefully explained how to put it on Isla. “It’ll calm her even more.”
Then she added, “She’ll still squirm—that controlled struggle you described. It kind of feels like she’s fighting, trying to push you away. But she can’t. And the more she fights, the deeper you’ll—” She caught herself. “Anyway, you get it. But the blindfold will help.”
She paused, then continued, “It works well for the anxiety, too. Lazy weekend afternoons when she’s in the single-strap jacket—muzzle and blindfold. She won’t be able to talk or see, but she’ll be calmer.”
“Okay,” I replied. I then told her that Isla was stirring when I got up, so she should be getting up soon. I guess I was trying to change the subject some.
Then I asked, “You said you wanted to take Isla to the museum today?”
“Right,” Sophie said, that same smile still on her face. “So—remember how I mentioned I was working on something yesterday? When you said you were worried about leaving Isla alone all day while you’re at the hospital?”
“Yeah,” I nodded.
“Well, Becca and I talked to Eleanor and the museum director. And both she and Jack think Isla might actually make a good assistant.”
“Assistant?” I echoed, surprised.
Sophie nodded. “Our assistant—mine and Becca’s. With Becca pregnant and the baby coming soon, well...” she paused. “Things are going to change, and we thought it might be nice to have someone who could help out.”
“She’d be helping you with museum stuff?” I asked, still not quite following.
“Uh-huh,” Sophie said, then corrected herself. “Well, technically it would be for the foundation we work for—Eleanor’s. You met her Friday night.”
“I remember,” I said.
“But yeah,” Sophie added, “practically speaking, it’d be mostly museum related.”
“So ... it would be a job?” I asked hesitantly.
“Yes,” she responded. “Salary, benefits.” Then, as the thought struck her, she added, “And we’d take her to the medical center after we drop off the jackets—to get Isla started on birth control.”
She looked at me with a knowing smile. “That way there won’t be any surprises. Not yet, anyway. Sure, it’ll be fun when our kids are playing together one day—but not until Isla gets a few things sorted out. Like not being court-ordered to wear transport restraints in public.”
“But ... maybe she’ll be out of them by January. That’s when the baby’s due. And I think Becca wants to start trying for our second in February.”
She shrugged. “Maybe things will be different by then? Maybe you two will be talking about a family. It’d be kind of fun if Isla and I ended up pregnant at the same time.”
Her smile turned a little playful.
“Especially with the pet play stuff—it worked really well for Becca. It might be fun for both of us to be in ours at the same time.”
That’s when it hit me—the look Sophie gave Becca the other day at their place. That wasn’t just a look. That was how Becca got pregnant. And now it all makes sense—why I got the talk, why Isla ended up with a dildo deep inside of her. They knew exactly what would happen. They knew Isla would end up pregnant too.
She glanced at me again. “And it’ll get her out of the house—at least on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The rest of the week, she’d be over at our place. She’d be with us during the day, all week. You wouldn’t have to worry about her being alone.”
Her smile returned. “And we have keys. So, depending on what Becca wants, Isla won’t necessarily be in full restraints, outside of when she’s at the museum or around people.”
“What Becca wants?” I asked, confused.
“It’s what I was talking about yesterday,” Sophie explained. “Becca sees some of herself in Isla. And since they’re the same size in dresses and heels, well...” She grinned. “Let’s just say Isla will be properly heeled sooner rather than later.”
“What does that mean exactly?” I asked.
“It’s a mindset,” she said, her tone softening. “I’m not sure how else to explain it.” Then she launched into a short explanation about Becca’s upbringing with her grandmother.
“Wow,” I said when she finished.
“Yeah. It helps explain why Becca is the way she is,” Sophie said. “So, Isla will be dressed properly—dresses, skirts, hose, heels. Regularly. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, she’ll probably be in one of Becca’s vintage wiggle dresses, stockings, and at least four-inch heels. But considering Isla used to wear heels professionally—and knowing Becca—she’ll push that. It won’t be long before Isla’s in fives, and then, maybe even sixes.”
She then glanced down at her own shoes. “As you’ve probably noticed, I usually wear five-inch stilettos—even though I have four-inch ones lined up in my closet.”
Sophie then looked at me and simply said, “Becca.”
“What did you mean about Isla professionally wearing heels?” I asked.
“Jeffrey didn’t tell you?” she replied. She closed her eyes and sighed. “I’m so sorry. I—I thought you knew. That he had told you.”
She paused for a moment.
“Jeffrey had a background check run on Isla,” she said, looking at me. “He said this case might get complicated ... because of the larger investigation that’s underway. He needs to know about anything in her past that could cause problems. He doesn’t really care or judge—but he had to know, so he can account for it when he works with the courts, the prison system. Surprises could be bad.”
I just stared at her—hearing the words, but not really processing them. I was just waiting to hear what Jeffrey had found.
“Isla’s worked a number of jobs,” she went on.
I nodded. “Yeah,” I acknowledged. “The struggling actor thing. You know she was a barista. And that she’s done modeling. I think she’s been a waitress, a hostess, worked at a department store or something ... I think she even worked in a library and a few other places while going to acting school.”
“Yeah,” she replied. “The Library ... it’s a private club. One of those high-end, ultra-discreet places. You can’t even get through the door without a personal referral—and even then, there’s an interview and a background check.”
I stayed quiet, waiting for her to continue.
“They only hire women. The dress code is strict—how do I put this? Think sexy librarian. Skirts, dresses, pantyhose, and heels. Five-inch stilettos, minimum. So yeah, they only take on a certain type—pretty, polished, the kind who turn heads. The kind who can walk in heels that high.” She looked at me. “Isla.”
“But what makes the place different from the others in the city is ... every woman works while cuffed. Hands in front. From what I was told, the cuffs go on when you arrive, come off when you leave.”
Sophie shrugged. “She wasn’t a domme or anything. Jeffrey found out she worked as the receptionist. Greeted clients, handled the paperwork. That’s it.”
I nodded. “Okay,” I said. “So, she’s had practice wearing five-inch stilettos, and she’s been in cuffs before. Regularly. Not just when she met Becca and Ben.”
“Seems that way,” Sophie replied. “Jeffrey said she worked there for eight months. Sometime after she graduated.”
I nodded slowly. “Okay,” I said again, trying to reframe things in my head.