Susan
by R. E. Bounds
Copyright© 2026 by R. E. Bounds
BDSM Story: As Susan’s curiosity pulls her into an unfamiliar world, a simple experiment quickly escalates. Guided by Anne and supported by Becca and Sophie, what begins as voluntary becomes a test of trust, control, and vulnerability. Bound physically and psychologically, Susan confronts hidden fears and desires, while Anne insists the ordeal will deepen their connection despite Susan’s doubt and humiliation. A story best experienced following The Clerk - Chapter 1: Curiosity at the Bookstore.
Tags: Fiction True Story Workplace BDSM Humiliation AI Generated
“Are you sure about this?” I asked quietly, though I already knew Sophie’s answer.
She smiled, the same calm assurance in her voice. “She’s made her choice. We’re just helping her explore what she’s curious about. It’s about trust. But ultimately, it’s her decision. We’re here to guide her. And she’ll be with her sister.”
Sophie’s words mirrored Becca’s—reassuring, clear. I nodded, still uncertain but slowly letting go of my hesitation. Like Becca, Sophie had a way of making everything feel right. I trusted her. And I trusted the young woman’s resolve.
When we reached the car, I unlocked the doors and popped the trunk. There, neatly arranged, were the restraints we had brought along. The sight of them was both familiar and unsettling.
The street was quiet, the darkness of evening settling in. We stood between two parked cars, the trunk open, hidden from view. No one would see us here. There was something strangely intimate about this moment, a stillness in the air that heightened the tension.
Removing Sophie’s restraints was a simple task—routine, even—but there was something different about it this time. It felt more significant. Once we had everything we needed, we made our way back to the bookstore in silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts.
We were inside only a minute when the young woman appeared at the top of the stairs, and the sight of her made my pulse quicken. She was wearing a form-fitting black dress that hugged her curves just above the knee. The fabric gleamed under the dim lighting of the bookstore, accentuating her slender figure.
The dress was elegant and simple but undeniably flattering. She had paired it with nude pantyhose, which enhanced the smooth lines of her legs, and black patent stilettos that looked to be about four inches high. Her heels clicked softly on the floor as she descended the stairs, each step measured and cautious.
Though the dress and pantyhose suited her effortlessly, it was clear she was still getting accustomed to the stilettos. She walked carefully, as though unsure of the height, trying to find her balance in the unfamiliar shoes.
Her posture was confident, but the slight hesitancy in her step betrayed her—she wasn’t entirely used to this. The heels challenged her, making her movement more deliberate. It was as though the heels weren’t just a physical adjustment but a symbolic one. They represented her willingness to step out of her comfort zone to embrace something new, something she wasn’t entirely sure of.
Her eyes met mine briefly, and I could see the mix of excitement and nervousness in them. She was ready, but the weight of the situation seemed to hang over her, just beneath the surface. She looked beautiful and confident in a way, but I could see the uncertainty that lingered despite her best efforts to mask it.
She smiled at us as she reached the bottom of the stairs, her excitement still visible but now tempered with a sense of anticipation. “Is ... is this okay?” she asked, clearly a bit self-conscious but also eager.
“You look beautiful,” Becca replied with a reassuring smile. “Ready to experience everything?”
The young woman nodded eagerly, her eyes bright. “Okay. My sister should be here any minute.”
As she said this, the young woman shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her movements tentative as she tried to find her balance. “My sister is the one who wears heels,” she admitted, her voice a little frustrated, the tension in her words betraying her discomfort. “It’s not really my thing.”
Becca gave her a sympathetic look, her expression softening with understanding. She nodded as though acknowledging the difficulty of the transition. “Yeah. It takes time to get used to them. But ... you’re doing well. A lot better than most. It looks like you’ll pick it up really fast.”
The young woman hesitated for a moment, glancing down at Becca’s and Sophie’s towering six-inch stilettos. The difference in height made her own four-inch heels seem almost modest in comparison. “But these ... they just seem so low compared to yours,” she said, raising an eyebrow in a mix of disbelief and fascination. She shifted uncomfortably in her shoes, the unfamiliar height making her feel slightly unsteady.
Becca chuckled softly, the sound warm and reassuring. “Yeah, ours are a bit extreme, I admit,” she said, her smile both kind and knowing. She tilted her head slightly, giving the young woman a look that was both teasing and understanding. “But it’s not about the height. It’s about getting comfortable in them. And getting comfortable in what you’re wearing, with what you’re doing. You’ll get used to it.”
The young woman shifted again, still unsure. Still, Becca’s words seemed to settle something inside her, a reassurance that, though it might be difficult now, it wouldn’t always feel this way. “Even once your ankles are locked in the leg cuffs,” Becca added, her voice steady and gentle. “You’ll be fine. Even if you had to wear six-inch heels tonight. You’ll find your balance. It’s all part of the experience.
The young woman looked at Becca, a flicker of doubt still lingering in her eyes but now softened by the trust that was beginning to form. Then, as if trying to grasp onto something familiar, she spoke up, her voice quiet but steady. “These are the highest heels my sister has. I didn’t see any higher than this,” she said, her words trailing off slightly, still unsure but now more willing to open up. “We’re both a size nine, so we usually wear each other’s shoes. Except for heels—those are mostly Anne’s.”
Sophie, who had been standing quietly beside them, stepped forward just slightly. Her expression was calm as if she had always known exactly what to say. “It’s about the experience, not just the heels. I’m a size nine, too. Did you want to try on six-inch heels? You can wear these.” She pointed down at her stilettos.
The young woman looked at Sophie, her eyes wide with uncertainty. “Um, really?” she asked, her voice betraying her. “I—I guess I could try them.”
With a quiet shrug, Sophie slipped off her own stilettos and held them out. The young woman, still a little hesitant, removed her sister’s heels and handed them to Sophie. Both women stood in their stocking feet, and after a brief exchange of nervous glances, they carefully swapped shoes.
“You can wear my sister’s,” the young woman said, still unsure but more willing now. “Hopefully, they fit.”
Sophie slipped into the heels, and to her surprise, they fit comfortably. She stood tall in them, adjusting her posture with ease. Meanwhile, the young woman took a step into Sophie’s dominatrix stilettos. Her feet fit perfectly into the towering shoes, and she took a careful, unsure step.
Standing with her hands slightly outward for balance, she looked at Becca and Sophie. “Wow. These are high.” She shifted her weight and glanced between the two of them. “And you can walk in these?” she asked, though she wasn’t expecting an answer.
Becca and Sophie exchanged a glance, and with practiced ease, they began helping the young woman through the motions of walking in the stilettos. Step by step, they guided her around the bookstore, helping her gain her balance, until the sound of the door chime rang through the quiet space.
The three of them froze for a moment, and as they turned, the door opened. The woman who I assumed Becca and Sophie had spoken to at the department store a while ago walked in, glancing around as she stepped inside.
“Why is the door still open?” she asked, her gaze landing on the group as she stepped fully inside, noticing the unexpected scene. Her eyes quickly flicked from Becca to Sophie before settling on her sister. “Hi,” she greeted, her voice warm but with an emphasis on the sight of Becca’s restraints. “Susan?!” she said, her voice rising in confusion. “What’s going on?
Her eyes swept over her sister’s outfit, taking in the details. “Is that my dress? And are you wearing pantyhose?” She glanced down at Susan’s shoes, and her eyes widened. “Are—are you in stilettos?” Then, she turned her gaze to Sophie’s towering heels. “And are those my heels?”
Susan, still standing in her borrowed attire, blinked up at her sister in some embarrassment. “Hi, Anne,” she said, trying to explain. “Um—yeah. These are your clothes. And the heels belong to Sophie.” She paused, unsure how to explain the situation. “I was just trying them on ... that’s why Sophie’s in your heels. I borrowed your dress ... and pantyhose. I hope you don’t mind.”
Anne looked at her sister with amusement and disbelief at the same time. “I—I don’t mind,” she said, shrugging slightly. “It’s nice to see you dressed up for once. But...” She paused, a flicker of concern in her eyes as she looked back at the group. “Why are you dressed this way?” She glanced around at the rest of us. “And why is the woman—and her friend, the one who has to wear cuffs—here?” She turned her gaze to me, her brow furrowed slightly as she nodded politely, still not knowing who I was. Especially given I was holding the restraints Sophie and I had brought back from the car.
Becca smiled warmly and introduced us. Anne clearly recognized Becca and Sophie, but now, hearing their names, she gave a slight nod of acknowledgment. She then introduced herself and her sister, Susan.
As the exchange continued, it was clear that Anne was still a bit confused by the situation. She glanced between Susan and the three of us, trying to make sense of the unusual scene unfolding in front of her. Seeing that Anne seemed somewhat lost, Susan stepped in, doing her best to fill in the missing details.
“Um—Becca, Sophie, and Ben came into the store a little while ago,” Susan began, her voice soft but steady as she turned to her sister. She hesitated, unsure how much to explain, but then continued, “We got to talking, and well...” She gestured toward Becca, her hands briefly brushing over the restraints. “And the discussion kind of turned to the restraints, and I had questions about them, about how they felt and everything.”
Anne looked a bit perplexed, and Susan could see that. So, she took a deep breath and continued, “Then they mentioned they had an extra set in their car. They asked if I wanted to try them on. I—well, I wasn’t sure at first, but I was curious, so I agreed.” Susan shrugged slightly, trying to make it sound casual, though she could feel her own uncertainty creeping in. “So, I changed into these clothes”—she gestured to the dress and pantyhose—”and tried on Sophie’s heels.” She paused for a moment as if to collect her thoughts.
“And then,” Susan added, glancing over her shoulder at Anne’s wide-eyed expression, “you walked in.”
Anne blinked, taking in her sister’s explanation. She looked over at Becca and Sophie, her expression still confused but softer now, as though the pieces were starting to fall into place. She shifted her gaze back to Susan. “I see,” she said, still processing the situation. “So, you changed into that outfit so that you could be put into cuffs?”
Susan bit her lip, trying to keep her nerves in check. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but ... I just wanted to know what it felt like,” she admitted quietly. “I wanted to understand, and...”
Anne’s gaze softened a little as she watched her sister struggle to explain herself. The vulnerability in Susan’s voice was apparent. Though she was still a bit confused, she seemed to understand something more profound that the rest of us didn’t.
“Okay, I get that,” Anne replied with a sigh, though her tone was far from sure. “Although, I don’t fully understand all of this.”
Susan blinked, surprised by the lack of anger in her sister’s reaction. She had expected Anne to be upset or perhaps even furious. “What do you mean, you get that?” Susan asked, her voice hesitant. “I don’t understand. You’re ... you’re not upset?”
Anne sighed, her expression shifting. She took a moment before speaking, her tone calm but slightly resigned. “I had told you about Becca,” Anne said. “And that I had met her at the department store. She was buying pantyhose with her friend. I had heard about her from others, but when I met her, I learned that she had to be kept in restraints whenever she was around other people. And that she was really nice, but she was chained up—like some dangerous prisoner. And she couldn’t get out of it. You remember, right?”
Susan’s brow furrowed as she tried to recall their earlier conversation, but she wasn’t sure where Anne was going with it. “You told me about Becca,” Susan repeated slowly, “but I didn’t really believe you. That you’d met a woman who had to be kept in restraints when she was around others. Even when people came into the bookstore and mentioned her, I didn’t really believe it. Not until she came in today.” She paused, then added, “But I still don’t get what any of this has to do with ... anything.”
Anne paused, looking a little frustrated but still trying to explain. “I told you all that because I thought you might open up to me, Susan,” she said. “I thought it would be a way for us to talk. But we don’t talk. We never really do.” Anne’s voice softened as if the realization was painful for her. “I wanted to be closer to you. I want to understand, but you don’t share anything with me.”
Susan’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she tried to understand. “You told me about Becca ... so we’d talk? I—I still don’t understand,” she said, her voice trembling a little.
Anne sounded aggravated now, but there was an undertone of sympathy in her words. “This is what I’m talking about, Susan! You won’t talk to me!” She let out a frustrated sigh. “Don’t you think I know you like ... these things?” Her gaze shifted to Becca’s restraints, then back to Susan. “I’m your sister. I’ve known you long enough to see it. You’re different. You’ve always been different from other girls.” She sighed again, looking defeated. “It’s okay. I just want us to be close, to talk. I don’t care what you like. I just want to understand.”
Susan looked down, ashamed. She hadn’t realized how much her silence had hurt Anne, nor how much her sister wanted to connect with her. But before she could say anything more, Anne’s attention shifted back to Becca. She looked at Becca, then at the restraints on her body.
“So...” Anne began, her voice still a bit hesitant, “you were going to put Susan in restraints? Like you’re in now? Like those?” She pointed at Becca’s chains, trying to process what that meant for her sister.
Becca nodded, her voice calm and reassuring. “Yeah. I’ve already explained it to Susan, but I’ll do my best to summarize.” She glanced at Susan, who was now standing quietly, hands loosely folded in front of her but oddly okay in the six-inch stilettos. Becca continued, “The restraints force the wearer to rely completely on someone they trust. It creates a bond—a connection of trust and support that goes deeper than just wearing the chains. It’s not about control for control’s sake. It’s about knowing you can’t get out, and the only person who can take them off is the one you trust.”
“This would bring my sister and me closer together?” Anne asked, her voice steady but with a hint of uncertainty. She wanted to be sure, to fully understand if this experience was truly about strengthening their bond as sisters. “Is that what you’re saying? That we’d become closer?”
Becca nodded, her gaze softening as she looked at Anne, understanding the desire she had for a relationship with her sister. “Yes,” she said gently. “It’s unconventional, but it will bring you closer together. Susan will be completely dependent on you. She’ll be helpless. She won’t have a choice but to do what you want. It will create a bond, a connection between you two.”
Anne’s eyes widened as she processed everything Becca had said. “So...” She trailed off, her mind racing to make sense of it all. It was clear she was grappling with the idea, wanting to understand every detail. She seemed to be looking for some sort of guarantee, as if she were reluctant to pursue yet another attempt at connecting with her sister if it wasn’t going to work.
Finally, she spoke again, the weight of her questions hanging in the air. “I would ... put Susan in those? I’d have the keys tonight? I’d be in full control of my sister?” The words came out slowly as if she were testing them, making sure she understood what Becca was saying. Her voice was quiet, but there was an almost unsettling curiosity underneath, an edge of uncertainty and, perhaps, an unspoken need for clarity.
She pointed again to Becca’s restraints as if needing confirmation. “And she can’t get out ... right? Once they’re on, she stays like that until I take them off?”
Becca’s expression softened, understanding why Anne was asking the questions. “Yes, once she’s in them, she can’t take them off. Just like I can’t get out of these. You’d need to help her, and you would be the one in control. Only you can take them off once she’s wearing them. We’d hand you the keys.”
Anne’s face flickered with a mixture of emotions. “And my sister agreed to all of this already?” she asked, her voice low and unsure.
Becca nodded, and Susan chimed in, her voice almost a whisper. “Yeah ... I agreed to it.”
Anne stood there for a moment, processing everything that had just been said. She looked at her sister, at Becca, at the restraints I was holding, then back to Susan. It was a lot to absorb. There was still uncertainty in Anne’s gaze, but the weight of the moment was apparent.
“Okay,” Anne said, her voice steady but thoughtful. “Show me how to do it. Show me how to put my sister in those.”
As Susan heard this, she hesitated, her voice slightly unsure. “I should probably get back into your four-inch heels first.”
Anne immediately cut in, her tone almost playful yet insistent. “Sophie, do you mind if Susan wears your heels tonight?” She glanced at Sophie’s shoes, then added, “You can wear mine if that’s okay. Are you comfortable with that?”
Sophie, without hesitation, nodded. “Sure, I’m fine in your heels tonight.”
Susan opened her mouth to protest, but Anne quickly shut her down. “I never get to see you dressed up. Not really. The last time I saw you in pantyhose was at Dad’s funeral.” Anne’s voice softened for a moment, but she was still determined. “We’re the same size shoe—you could wear my heels any time, but you never do. So, tonight, you’re wearing those stilettos. I know they’re high, but you’ve been standing in them fine, and you’ve taken steps in them just fine, too.”
Susan started to speak again, but Anne cut her off with a firm but caring smile. “It’s what I said earlier. You’re not like other girls, and that’s why I’m not surprised that you can walk in those heels. Honestly, I thought my four-inch heels were high, but those?” She shook her head, looking impressed.
“They’re called Dominatrix heels,” Sophie chimed in, a slight grin on her face. “Made in England.”
Anne raised an eyebrow and looked Sophie up and down with a smirk. “So, my sister, who never wears heels, is perfectly fine walking in six-inch heels that are designed to be worn by dominatrixes.” Then, turning back to her sister with a slightly exasperated but affectionate look, she said, “Yes, you’re wearing those tonight, Susan. No more arguing.”
“I guess I should get you a coat to go with that dress,” She then remarked. “You’ll want to have it on before I put you in the restraints.” She glanced at Becca for validation, and Becca nodded in agreement.
“That would be best. It’s still kind of cold outside,” Becca replied.
Nodding, Anne then said, “I’ll be right back,” before heading upstairs.
While she was gone, I placed the restraints on the counter and laid them out, preparing for Susan to be put into them. As I did this, she stared at them, her gaze lingering.
Anne reappeared moments later, dressed in a snug black dress that hugged her curves perfectly, stopping just below her knees. She wore nude pantyhose and four-inch black stiletto heels, looking every bit the part. In her arms, she carried two coats.
Walking up to her sister, Anne handed her a coat and said, “This one goes really well with that dress.” She noticed Susan’s eyes lingering on her and added with a playful smile, “How often do I get to dress up with my sister?” Clearly, she was acknowledging the attention Susan was giving her.
Once Susan had the coat on, Anne said, “Perfect. I knew that coat would work.” Then, turning to Becca, she asked, “So, how do I get my sister into these restraints?”
Sophie picked up the handcuffs and handed them to Anne. “We’ll start with these,” Becca said, guiding Anne as she locked them gently around Susan’s wrists. “Tighten them until only one ratchet is visible,” Becca instructed. Anne did as she was told, making sure the handcuffs were snug but not too tight.
Next, Becca showed Anne how to double-lock the cuffs. “This keeps them from closing any further once they’re on,” Becca explained. Anne followed her lead, making sure the cuffs were securely in place.
Sophie then handed Anne the lockbox. Becca explained, “This lockbox covers the keyholes, so Susan can’t unlock the cuffs with a key.”
Susan held her hands out, and Becca continued, explaining how to wrap the waist chain around Susan’s waist. “Slide it under her coat,” Becca said. “Make sure the metal piece goes through the chain link tightly so Susan can’t slip it off. It should stay snuggly around her waist.”
Becca explained how to take one of the rings at the end of the connecting chain and slip it over the metal piece of the waist chain, holding everything in place with one hand. Then, she described how to feed the metal piece through the slit in the lockbox, hold the lockbox to Susan’s waist, pull the end of the waist chain through the slit in the metal piece, and then back down the back of the lockbox. “Now, use the padlock to lock the end of the waist chain directly behind Susan,” Becca instructed as Sophie handed it to Anne.
Finally, Sophie handed Anne the leg cuffs. Becca explained how to loop them through the ring on the connecting chain and lock them into place. “You want to double-lock the leg cuffs, too, to make sure they don’t accidentally close any further,” Becca added, guiding Anne through the last step.
Anne stood up, her eyes wide as she took a step back, a deep understanding dawning on her. “Okay,” she murmured, her voice soft with realization. “I think I get it now. The way everything connects.” She glanced at Susan, a mix of surprise and something deeper crossing her face. “I didn’t realize how it all worked before. I mean, I’ve seen women in those on TV. But I just figured they’d be able to get out if they had the keys. But now I can see ... Susan really can’t get out of that.” She turned to Becca. “So, Susan needs to remove the padlock and thread the chain through the slit in the metal piece to take off the lockbox, right? But ... if she tries to reach for the padlock, it just shifts with the waist chain ... and her hands—well, they’re cuffed.”
Becca nodded, her lips curling into a small, almost satisfied smile. She could see Anne had figured it out—how simple, yet how inescapable the design was. “Exactly. Susan really can’t get out, no matter how hard she tries. It’s a simple system, but it works really well. Not until you remove the padlock and pull the chain through to free the lockbox from her waist.”
Anne smiled, her gaze drifting to Susan, who was now gently testing the limits of her restraints, sliding her cuffed hands around her waist. It was a subtle movement, but there was something in it—an almost quiet realization on Susan’s face as she felt the weight of her situation. She took a few careful steps in her stilettos, her cuffed ankles clicking against the floor with each slow, deliberate motion.
As Becca watched Anne’s expression soften with understanding, she added, almost as an afterthought, “When I’m put into mine ... Ben or Sophie will need to make sure I can’t slip out. They don’t want me to accidentally wiggle free.” Her voice was steady, but there was a trace of something deeper, something that hinted at her own sense of vulnerability. “They need to see that my wrists are locked securely to my waist.”
Anne’s gaze softened, her voice quiet but firm. “Show me that you can’t get out,” she said, her eyes never leaving Susan. “I don’t want you slipping out of those while we’re out.”
Susan hesitated, her wrists pulling slightly at the cuffs, trying to slide her hands free. She struggled for a moment, but the handcuffs didn’t give, the metal cutting into her skin with each failed attempt. “I can’t get out,” Susan said quietly, frustration creeping into her voice. “I mean it. I really can’t get out.”
Anne nodded slowly, her eyes still on Susan, watching her sister’s every movement as she fought against the restraints. “Okay,” she murmured. “Good.” There was a long pause before Anne reached for her coat, the weight of the moment settling between them. She turned toward Sophie, her tone shifting. “The keys,” she said softly. “I’ll be able to hold onto them, right?”
Sophie, understanding, handed the keys to Anne with a nod. Anne tucked them into her coat pocket, her fingers brushing the cold metal, and then looked back at the group. She turned her attention to Susan, who was still adjusting to the unyielding hold of the cuffs, the tension in her movements becoming more and more intense.
“So,” Anne said, her voice steady but kind, “where did you want to go first?” Her eyes met each of theirs, and in turn, there was a quiet question in the air.
Susan shifted uncomfortably, the weight of the restraints now genuinely sinking in. She turned from one foot to the other, her face pale as she looked at Anne. “I ... I don’t know if I can do this,” she admitted, her voice fragile. The panic in her eyes was unmistakable as she realized the full extent of her situation—being out in public, locked in unrelenting restraints, felt like a step too far.
Anne’s gaze softened, but her voice remained calm, almost tender. “You agreed to this,” she said as if grounding Susan in the commitment she had made. But when she saw the panic begin to cloud her sister’s face, she softened further, her expression full of understanding. She stepped closer to Susan, reaching out, her hand brushing gently against her sister’s arm.
“You’re different, and that’s okay,” Anne said, her voice a reassuring whisper. “I love you. It’s okay. Really, it is.” There was a deep sincerity in her words, a comfort that was meant to ease Susan’s nerves. “I want us to be close again. We haven’t been since Dad died. I’m tired of missing out on being with my sister.” Anne’s voice cracked slightly, the vulnerability of her own emotions bleeding through. “I’m not taking those off. You’re staying in those.”
Anne’s eyes flicked between Susan and the rest of us. Her voice was soft but resolute. “We should get going,” she said. Then, her gaze lingered on Susan. “But what do I do if Susan doesn’t want to go?”
She turned toward Sophie, her question almost an afterthought. However, her eyes were full of something else—an understanding that Susan’s discomfort wasn’t just about the restraints. “What do you do when Becca doesn’t want to go—when she’s ... not okay with it?” Her words trailed off, an unspoken understanding that she was asking not just about the physical act of moving but about the more profound, emotional struggle that came with it.
Sophie’s smile was gentle, but there was a quiet understanding in her eyes as she responded. “Becca’s been in restraints for so long now that she doesn’t even fight them anymore,” she said, the words soft but carrying weight. “She’s learned to live with them, to ... accept them, in a way. But it’s not always that easy.”
Sophie paused, her expression shifting to something a little more serious. She reached out and gently took Becca’s connecting chain in her hand, pulling it toward her. The chain tightened slightly, and Becca shuffled forward, her movements smooth but automatic. “See?” Sophie said, her voice more instructional now. “You can guide Susan with the chain. It’s not about forcing her, but helping her move, guiding her when it’s hard.” She looked over at Anne, her expression softening. “You want to be careful, though. Don’t pull too hard. You don’t want Susan to feel like she’s being dragged, but you can use the chain to help her move when she’s stuck.”
Anne absorbed Sophie’s words, her gaze flicking back to Susan, whose movements had slowed. Her hands still fidgeted with the cuffs, her eyes wide and uncertain as she shifted from one foot to the other.
Susan’s voice then broke the silence, tentative and fragile. “I don’t know if I can do this,” she again said, but now whispered, her words barely audible. She tugged at her wrists again, her every movement an unspoken protest. Her eyes met Anne’s, full of hesitation and a hint of panic. “This feels ... it feels like too much.”
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