Keira
Copyright© 2026 by R. E. Bounds
Chapter 1: Are You Sure About This?
“Are you sure about this?” She stared at the house. “This whole place gives off that creepy Don’t Breathe feel.”
“Really?!” I said, not taking my eyes off it. “Why would you say that?”
“Doesn’t it?”
I didn’t answer.
“Why do you even need to try on that shit?”
“I need to know if I can do this before I sign anything.”
“You said you could say no afterward.”
“If I say no, everything stops.”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “That’s the point.”
“No. Everything ends—not just the bondage shit.” I looked at her. “Everything else, too. The tuition money, the apartment, the car, all of it.”
I looked back at the house as I undid my seat belt. “Let’s just get this over with before you creep me out any more.”
“If some blind dude answers the door...”
I just stared at her as I put my purse in the trunk and slipped my phone into my pocket.
“I’m just saying,” she continued. “Unless he’s Henry Cavill, we’re leaving.”
We walked up the sidewalk. I opened the screen door and knocked.
A minute passed. Then two.
“No one’s home,” Christina said as she started to head back down the steps.
I glanced down at her and knocked again, harder this time.
A voice came from inside, telling us to hold on.
Christina rolled her eyes and walked back up.
“We didn’t drive a few hours into New York just to turn back around,” I told her.
“What do—!” we heard as the door opened.
But he stopped mid-sentence when he saw us. His expression changed almost instantly.
“Hello, little ladies,” he said, smiling. “What can I do for you?”
Little ladies, I thought. He was a little taller than me—five-seven, maybe. But worse, he was wearing a wife-beater and cargo pants.
I could feel Christina’s eyes on me, burning holes through the back of my head.
“I’m the one who called,” I said.
He nodded as if he remembered now, but it was clear he didn’t.
“Yeah,” he said, inviting us in.
“I brought a friend,” I added as I stepped inside and saw him eyeing Christina.
“More the merrier,” he said, closing the door behind us.
We stood there awkwardly for a second, with him simply staring at us.
“You said you had prison cuffs?”
“Not prison cuffs, doll,” he replied, pointing as he started walking across the room. “No such thing.”
“But...” he emphasized as he picked up a semi-clear white plastic bin and carried it over to the coffee table. “I do have restraints used by law enforcement.”
He looked at us, smiling, as he sat down on the couch. “Pretty much the same thing.”
I looked down at the bin and the tangle of metal inside.
He pointed at it, inviting me to touch it.
I reached in and picked up some of the chain before letting it drop.
“What’s wrong, darling?” He opened his hands and frowned. “That’s what you wanted—right?”
I sighed.
“I said I wanted prison restraints.” I looked at him, a little annoyed, considering we’d driven most of the morning to get here. “I described them on the phone, and you said you had that stuff?”
He stared back at me like he didn’t know what I was talking about.
“Cuffs, box thing?” I reminded him. “And a chain around the waist that goes down to the ankles with cuffs.”
I held my wrists together against my waist.
“Keeps your hands like this.”
“Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said, nodding. “I remember. You’re the one who was asking about the shit they move inmates and detainees in. Transport restraints.”
“Yeah, that,” I repeated. “Transport restraints.”
“No such thing.”
“Keira,” Christina said, stepping forward. “Let’s go. This guy’s wasting our time.”
She grabbed my arm.
“He doesn’t have what you want.”
“No...” He shook his head. “That’s not true.” He leaned forward and reached into the bin.
“It’s all right here,” he said, looking up at us. “You just gotta put it all together.”
He rummaged through it.
“It’s not a thing,” he explained as he searched. “It’s what you use and how you put it on.”
We watched as he deliberately picked out the pieces and neatly laid them out on the table.
When he was done, he gestured to all of it.
I reached down and picked up one of the cuffs, opening one side.
“And these are real?”
“As real as they get.”
I closed the cuff, examining it more closely before putting it down and picking up the plastic-looking box held closed by a metal clip.
“Security box,” he said. “Goes around the cuffs.”
I nodded.
“What I saw was metal. Like the same color as the cuffs.”
He reached back into the bin and rummaged through it until he pulled out an angled piece of folded metal. It looked like a napkin holder.
“This?” he asked, handing it to me. “Those work with the hinged cuffs, too.”
He pulled out another set of handcuffs connected by a solid piece of metal. They folded at the center, with no chain between them.
“Just depends on what you want,” he said, watching me examine both boxes.
“You mean, like, comfort?”
He laughed.
“None of that’s supposed to be comfortable,” he shot back. “It’s just designed to keep you secure.”
But then he shrugged. “But ... I guess that angled one could be more comfortable, keeping your wrists in a more natural position.”
I nodded.
“So ... this one’s more comfortable?” I asked gesturing to the angled box. “Like, if you had to wear all this for long periods?”
“Maybe,” he replied, looking at me.
A smile formed on his face. The kind of smile you give someone when you’re interested in them.
He leaned back on the couch and draped his arm along the back.
“Now, what would a pretty little thing like you want with stuff like this?”
I didn’t answer him. Instead, I picked up the ankle cuffs.
“Those go around the ankles,” he said.
The smile was still on his face, like he was still expecting an answer to his question.
“The ones I saw were shorter.”
His smile only grew wider. He reached back into the bin and rummaged through it again, untangling two more sets of ankle cuffs like the ones I was holding. Then he pulled out a third set and handed them to me.
“Like this?”
I took them from him, now holding a set in each hand, the chains folded. The one he had handed me was much shorter—maybe half the length of the other one.
I put the longer ones down and examined the ones he’d given me, holding a cuff in each hand. The chain looked like it was maybe ten inches. Maybe eight. I wasn’t sure.
“You don’t see those much,” he said, watching me examine them. “You’re lucky I even have a set like those. That angled box, too. That ain’t standard either.”
“So, these aren’t normally used?”
“Nope,” he said. “You gotta be special to be put in something like that.”
I glanced at him. He was still smiling at me. The same smile.
“And you can walk in these?”
“Yep,” he said.
I could hear the amusement in his voice now.
“Not well. But if you’re in those...” He paused. “You’re not supposed to.”
I nodded, still looking at them.
He rummaged through the bin again and pulled out a padlock, the key still inserted. He dropped it beside the other restraints on the table.
Then he dug through the bin again, reaching all the way to the bottom before pulling out two handcuff keys. He set those down as well.
Leaning back on the couch, he opened both hands toward the table.
“There you go, dollface. You got enough here to secure anyone for transport.”
“What’s the padlock for?”
He smiled again.
“Keeps them all nice and safe like. You know ... so they don’t get out.”
I nodded.
“Okay. You said one-fifty?”
He leaned forward, tilting his head back and forth as he stared at the table, thinking.
“All of it? The two cuffs, leg cuffs...” He frowned for a second. “Two-fifty.”
“What a joke,” Christina said. She’d been quiet up until now. “This is a fucking bait-and-switch.”
“Come on,” she added, touching my arm again. “We can find these cheaper someplace else.”
“Maybe,” he said, slowly nodding at her. “But these are what cops use. They’re the real McCoy.”
He pointed to the longer ankle cuffs.
“Those are guaranteed to be kick-proof. If it’s all put on right, don’t have to worry. There’s no getting out.”
He reached down, picked them up, and put them back in the bin.
“But ... if you think you can get all this for under two-fifty...” He frowned. “Sure.”
“Fine.”
“Okay, baby girl,” he said, pulling the cuffs back out. “You got a good eye for quality.”
“You won’t be disappointed,” he continued, setting them down. “Oil ‘em a little every so often and they’ll last a lifetime.”
“Keira,” Christina said. “Seriously? You even got enough?”
“You take credit cards?”
He chuckled, looking around facetiously.
“Yeah,” he said sarcastically, pointing toward a dead floor plant in the corner of the room. “Just step up to the register over there, and I’ll ring you up.”
“Like I said on the phone,” he added. “Cash only.”
I looked at him. He seemed to remember that part of our discussion.
“Spot me a hundred,” I said, looking back at Christina. “I’ll—I’ll pay you back.”
She just looked at me.
“I just got one-fifty on me,” I told her. “I know you got it. Really, I’ll pay you back.”
“Fine,” she said, reaching into her purse and pulling out five twenties. She handed them to me. “I need this back, Keira. I’m in debt like you, remember? And I don’t have a sugar daddy lined up.”
I added her cash to the twenties I pulled out of my pocket.
“Sugar daddy?!”
I looked up at him. He had a huge grin that seemed to cover his entire face.
“Whew!” he howled, slapping his knee. “You young girls nowadays ... mmm. If I had money.”
“These for him?” he then asked. “He into being tied up by cute little things?”
“Ew,” Christina said, loud enough for only me to hear.
He stood and reached out for the cash.
I held it back.
“How do I know they work?”
He pointed down at the table.
“Keys are right there,” he insisted. “Try ‘em yourself.”
“How do I know they fit?”
“One size fits all, little thing.”
“I mean, the chains,” I said, pointing at the two chains on the table. “How do I know they won’t be too long or too short?”
“Okay,” he said, nodding. Then he tilted his head up at me. “How big is this guy?”
I hesitated, not looking at him.
A wider, even more exaggerated smile formed on his face.
“These for you?” he asked. “He likes making sure what he’s paying for stays his, huh?”
“Ew,” Christina said again. This time, he heard her.
“Nothing wrong with that, girlie,” he shot back, directing the comment at Christina. “A man’s entitled to what belongs to him. If he pays for something with his hard-earned money”—he nodded once—”it’s his. He gets to make sure nobody else puts their hands on it. Gotta protect what’s his—right?”
“Okay, okay,” he said, refocusing. “The only way to know if they’ll fit is to put ‘em on.”
“I can help you,” he added. “Kind of a two-man job.”
“You’re not touching her,” Christina said, stepping forward until she was standing right next to me.
“Okay, okay,” he said again, sounding a little defensive as he held up his hands. Then he pointed at her. “You can do it.”
“Fine,” I said.
“Really?!” Christina shot back.
I handed her the cash.
“You’re serious?”
“Yeah,” I said.
I leaned close to her.
“All the chains fit that girl. Like they were made for her,” I whispered. “And I’m supposed to go in to get my measurements taken. So, I don’t think it’s just for the clothes. I think it’s so he can have restraints made for me, too. This stuff needs to fit right.”
I sighed.
“I just need to know I can wear this shit for four years.”
She blew out a long breath.
“Fine,” she said.
“Yeah?” he repeated.
“Yeah?” I echoed.
“Well, okay.” He sounded a little surprised before sitting back down and leaning into the couch, as if he were getting comfortable to watch a show.
“Take them cuffs,” he said, pointing to the hinged ones. “Put ‘em on her.”
Christina picked them up and opened them.
“Turn ‘em,” he added. “See the keyholes? You don’t want to see ‘em. They face her.”
She flipped them over and put them on me, tightening them around my wrists.
“Just a smidge more,” he said. “Till you see only one tooth.”
Christina closed them a little more.
He then pointed to the keys and explained how to double-lock them before having her slip the angled box over the cuffs.
I moved my wrists around a little.
“I wouldn’t do that. You’re just gonna hurt those pretty little wrists.”
He pointed to the long, coiled chain on the table.
“Grab that chain right there.”
Christina took it.
“Belly chain,” he said. “Wrap it around her waist.”