Bambi
by R. E. Bounds
Copyright© 2026 by R. E. Bounds
BDSM Story: As Susan’s uneasy experiment continues, her tense dynamic with Anne over trust and control draws the attention of two curious college girls. One briefly agrees to be restrained, but soon asks to be released, her discomfort contrasting with Susan’s growing involvement. Encouraged by Becca and Sophie, Anne grows more certain, while Susan’s doubts deepen—making the moment a revealing mirror. A companion story to Susan’s journey, best experienced following The Clerk - Chapter 2: Make a Little Money.
We sat there in silence for a while. I don’t think Susan knew how to respond to Anne. But just as she was about to speak, two girls from the group at the next table suddenly appeared beside us, their eyes fixed on Becca.
“Hi,” one of the girls said, her tone tentative but curious. “You’re that woman, right? The one we’ve heard about? The one kept in ... those?” Her gaze lingered on Becca but drifted toward Susan for a moment as if trying to piece it all together.
Becca met their eyes, her voice calm and matter-of-fact. “Yeah, that’s me.” She gave a small wave with one of her cuffed hands, the chains clicking softly as she moved.
The girls turned their attention to Susan, their eyes now fixed on her with a mix of curiosity and judgment. “Do you need to wear them too?” one of them asked, her voice a little too loud, a little too casual.
Susan’s stomach tightened. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her throat, her mind scrambling for a response. Before she could find one, Becca interjected smoothly, her voice warm but firm.
“No, she doesn’t. I’m required to—it’s a law enforcement thing with me. My wrists have to be secured to my waist when I’m around others. But Susan?” Becca glanced over at her with a knowing look. “She’s in them because she wanted to experience it. See what it was like.” She gave a slight shrug as if this explanation made perfect sense. “Kind of a bonding exercise with her sister. You know—becoming dependent on someone you trust to build a stronger relationship. That kind of thing.”
“Oh, wow,” the young woman said, her voice full of fascination. “So, you’re just ... experiencing it? With your sister? How’s it worked so far? I mean ... the whole relationship-building thing?”
Anne met the woman’s gaze, her expression thoughtful yet firm. “Yeah, it’s brought us closer. We’ve started seeing the benefits.” She paused, and when she spoke again, her tone shifted just slightly. “But this isn’t like those handcuff challenges you see online—two girls laughing while they’re cuffed together for a day with toy cuffs, pretending they’re trapped. My sister’s in real restraints. She can’t get out. I have the keys. And she knows I won’t let her go.”
The woman blinked, clearly confused. “You won’t take them off, even if she wants you to?”
“No,” Anne said, her voice steady. “That’s part of it. The moment she’s in them—when she’s locked in, she has to trust me completely. Not just because I have the keys but because I’m the one deciding when it’s time to let her out. Until then, she’s completely dependent on me.”
Anne’s eyes darkened, her words slow but heavy. “She knows this. She knows that no matter what happens, I won’t release her until I decide she’s ready. And she trusts me enough to surrender herself, fully and without question. That’s the point.”
Anne glanced at Susan, her voice softening but still firm. “Thinking about being in those restraints ... and actually being in them in public? It’s two completely different things. We’re growing from this—growing as sisters—but it’s been hard for her. Being like this, exposed ... it’s humiliating.”
She took a breath, her eyes never leaving Susan. “But at the same time,” Anne continued, her voice growing quieter, “being humiliated is part of it. My sister needs it. I know that sounds harsh, but she does. It’s how we become closer—how we break down walls that have kept us apart. But it’s hard. Watching her get ridiculed ... I just want to take her out of those. Let her go. But I can’t. And that hurts. It hurts because it’s my job to protect her, but I also know this is something she has to go through to really trust me. To really know she’s safe.”
Anne paused, her fingers tightening around the keys in her pocket. “I never thought this would bring us closer. Never thought I could love her more. But I do.”
I could see the young woman struggling to process it all. She glanced at Anne, then back at Susan, her expression shifting as she tried to understand. “I can see how being in that situation would make you really close with your sister,” she said slowly. “You’re really relying on her. You need to trust her completely.” She turned her gaze to Anne, her tone softening. “And I can see how hard it is for you ... watching her like this, knowing you have to say no, even when it hurts. That must bring you closer, too.”
The young woman paused, looking back at the girl beside her. She nodded, then shifted her eyes to Becca. “Is this something ... something you do? I mean, for sisters who want to experience that kind of closeness, is this how you do it? You take them out like this ... one of them in cuffs? Is it like a service? An ... experience?” She stumbled over her words, clearly struggling to find the right way to ask. Her curiosity was evident, but she seemed unsure of how to phrase it, uncertain whether she was even allowed to be asking these questions.
Becca saw an opening and asked, “Is that your sister?”
I watched as both girls exchanged a glance, and then the one who had been speaking nodded. “Yes.”
Becca leaned in, her tone curious but careful. “And you want to experience this too? You’d want one of you restrained ... like this?” She gently tugged at her own wrists, her voice low but not without an edge of challenge.
The young woman nodded again, glancing at her sister before speaking. “Yes. We’d like to try it.”
Becca’s eyes flickered between them, and then she asked, “And which one of you would be transported?” She paused for a moment, sensing their confusion. “I mean, which one of you would be put in the transport restraints?”
Without hesitation, the girl who had been speaking replied, “It would be me ... I’d be wearing them.”
Becca nodded as if expecting this answer. Then, with a slight tilt of her head, she asked, “And the clothes? You’d wear a fitting dress, hosiery ... stilettos?” She added emphasis, making sure they understood. “You’d be dressed up. Like this.”
The two women glanced down at Becca’s heels, noting how her feet arched, the way her foot curved forward. While Susan’s shoes were the same, her foot didn’t arch forward as much.
The younger woman, after a moment of looking down at Becca’s heels, nodded slowly. “So, I’d have to dress up?” she said softly, asking the question almost to herself. “I’d be dressed up ... and wear really high heels.”
Becca smiled, but there was hesitation in her expression. It was as if she knew the young woman in front of her didn’t fully understand what she was asking for. There was something in her eyes—something unsure, something that hinted at the idea that she wasn’t quite ready for the reality of it.
Becca was fine with Susan. She could see that what was happening to her, what had happened to her, was needed. It was almost as though Becca understood, instinctively, that Susan craved it—that this was a part of her growth, a necessary step. Much in the same way, Becca knew that Sophie, too, needed something similar, but in a different way. Sophie wanted it, but she needed help being gently eased into the reality of being restrained. To Becca, it was about care, about being shown how to open up to a deeper, more vulnerable side of herself.
But the woman in front of Becca right now ... she wasn’t like that. Becca could feel it. She sensed that the young woman was simply enamored with the idea of being cuffed as if it were some kind of novelty, some form of excitement. It reminded her of the earlier conversation between the two women at the adjoining table. One of them had said she might consider being kept in restraints, but only if she got what she wanted—that meant to her, it was transactional.
Becca knew better. This wasn’t how it worked. It wasn’t a simple trade, a way to get off or check something off a list. It wasn’t how Vixen had seen it at the mansion that weekend. It wasn’t about the thrill or the novelty. It was about something deeper, something you craved in an almost primal way. You needed it like you needed air.
Becca smiled, then turned to the young woman. “You’re a size seven, right?”
The woman nodded, looking a little nervous. “Um, yeah,” she replied, her voice soft, uncertain.
Becca continued, her tone steady. “Sophie keeps a spare set of cuffs in her purse. You never know when they’ll be needed.” She looked at Sophie, who nodded slightly, understanding.
The young woman blinked, clearly startled by the sudden shift. “She ... carries handcuffs in her purse?” She paused, trying to make sense of it. “Um ... why?”
Becca smiled softly, the hint of something almost wistful in her expression. “It’s necessary. Part of my situation.” She gestured between herself and Sophie. “Sophie’s law enforcement—well, my law enforcement, I guess. I’m required to stay in restraints when I’m around others for safety. So, she keeps them handy—just in case. If I’m not in these restraints and something happens ... well, Sophie can make sure everyone stays safe by cuffing me.”
The young woman stared, her confusion now mixed with a growing sense of realization. “You’re saying she’s responsible for making sure you stay like that? Keeping you cuffed up?”
Becca nodded, her voice calm but firm. “Well, yeah. Like I said, I’m required to be like this. I don’t have a choice. Just like inmates don’t have a choice. They’re put in restraints, whether they want to be or not.”
She paused, her gaze shifting to Susan. A soft smile tugged at her lips. “And even though Susan doesn’t need to be restrained like I do, she’s chosen to. Just like Anne said, Susan surrendered herself fully. She’s in them now. And only her sister can take them off.”
I then saw Sophie, who watched Becca with a knowing smile, stand up and, with a quiet grace, slip off Becca’s stilettos. Her movements were fluid, almost rehearsed, as if this was something she’d done a thousand times before. She then walked over to the young woman’s sister, holding out both the stilettos and the handcuffs.
Becca’s voice was calm but firm as she spoke to the young woman. “Your sister can help you into the heels and then cuff you. Behind your back, of course.” She glanced over at their friends, still milling around across the street. “It looks like your friends are distracted. You could stay like that for a bit—let your sister look after you. You can get a feel for it before you decide if you want to commit to the full experience.”
The young woman hesitated, glancing from Becca to her sister, then back again. Becca noticed her uncertainty but didn’t push. Instead, she gave her a reassuring smile and then turned her attention back to Susan. Susan smiled back and slowly tried to raise her restrained hands, offering a silent gesture of support to the young woman.
Becca’s voice softened, almost coaxing. “You just have to surrender yourself to your sister. Trust her.” She paused, allowing the words to sink in. “But since this is just a trial ... she could help you into the heels, cuff you, and then we’d leave the keys here, on the table. You could stop by when you’re ready to be released. No pressure.”
As Becca spoke, Sophie stepped forward and handed the heels to the woman’s sister. The young woman’s eyes lingered on the stilettos, but there was hesitation in her expression.
Becca, noticing this, added, “It only takes a minute to cuff you. It’s quick. The heels will take longer, of course—your sister has to take off your boots first.” She smiled gently as if trying to reassure her, but her words carried an edge of expectation.
The young woman stuttered, clearly uncomfortable, her eyes darting between Becca and her sister. “Um—well, the heels really don’t go with this outfit...”
Becca gave a slight, understanding nod. “You’re right,” she said, her voice soft but matter-of-fact. She paused for a moment, considering. “So, let’s not do the heels for now. But the cuffs ... you can wear those, can’t you?”
The young woman hesitated, then gave a reluctant nod. Becca glanced at Sophie, who took the heels back from the woman’s sister and handed her the handcuffs.
Becca turned her attention back to the young woman, her tone shifting slightly. “Why don’t you turn around?” she suggested gently. “Sophie will show your sister how to cuff you.”
The young woman seemed dazed, her gaze distant as she turned to her sister, who was now inspecting the handcuffs. There was a moment of quiet before Becca’s voice broke through, steady and clear. “Go ahead. Turn around. Put your hands behind your back.”
The young woman, with a nervous breath, did as she was told, turning to face away from her sister and placing her hands behind her. Her body stiffened as Sophie stepped closer, her presence quiet but authoritative. Sophie carefully guided the woman’s sister through the process—opening the cuffs, placing them over the young woman’s wrists, and tightening them gently but with purpose.
Becca, watching intently, added softly, “Gently close the cuffs, one click at a time.” She wanted the woman to understand the weight of the action and the importance of what was happening.
With each click, the young woman’s eyes brightened. Still, it was more than just the sound—she felt the cuffs close around her wrists, the constriction tightening like a boundary being set, a boundary that only her sister had the power to release. The young woman’s breath quickened, and she couldn’t help but glance back at Becca as if searching for reassurance or perhaps some indication that this was okay.
As the final click echoed in the air, Sophie reached into her purse and pulled out a key. She showed the woman’s sister how to double-lock the cuffs, ensuring that they were secure and that they couldn’t be undone without the key.
The young woman stood still, the weight of the cuffs settling around her wrists, her body tense as she felt the finality of the action. The emotional gravity of the moment wasn’t lost on anyone. Sophie looked at Becca, a silent understanding passing between them.
“There.” Becca’s voice was calm, almost clinical, but there was an underlying sense of satisfaction. “Now, you need to show your sister that you can’t get out of them. It’s important. You don’t want to slip out. Your sister needs to know that you’re really in them—and so do you.”
The young woman, still dazed from the experience, blinked at Becca. “What ... what do I do?”
“Just struggle in them,” Becca replied. Her tone was gentle, but there was a quiet authority in her words. “Try to get them off. Show your sister that you can’t. Like I said, it’s important.” She watched the young woman tug at the cuffs, her hands pulling unsuccessfully. “And it’ll help you understand too. You’re not getting out. That’s just as important.”
The young woman’s face fell as she paused, tugging one last time at the cuffs before speaking in a defeated tone. “I can’t get out.” Her voice was thick with resignation, but there was something almost relieved in her admission, as if she was coming to terms with the reality of her situation.
Becca nodded, a small, approving smile on her lips. “Okay,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “So, you’re in real handcuffs now.” She looked at the woman for a long moment, her gaze steady. “Just relax your arms and hands. Don’t fight them. You’ll only bruise yourself.”
Sophie, who had been quietly observing, reached out and took the key from the woman’s sister.
“One more thing,” Becca continued, her gaze shifting to the young woman’s sister. “When you walk with her, you want to hold her arm on the inside. It’ll steady her in case she trips.”
The woman’s sister, who had been silent up until now, nodded and placed her hand gently on the inside of her sister’s arm, guiding her with a tenderness that contrasted with the restraints binding her sibling.
Becca’s eyes softened, but her tone remained matter-of-fact. “Okay. You’re all set.” She gestured toward their friends, who were still milling around across the street. “Go hang out with your friends. We’ll be here. Stop by when you’re ready to leave, and we’ll give your sister the key to release you. You can tell us how it all felt. And if you’re interested, you can experience giving yourself completely to your sister—spending the evening in full transport restraints, all dressed up.”
The woman’s sister, who had seemed more intrigued than anything, now turned to lead her sibling across the street. The restrained woman looked around nervously, clearly uncomfortable in her cuffs. Her eyes darted about as if trying to hide the evidence of her submission, her discomfort increasing with each passing second.
As they crossed the street and met up with their friends, the restrained woman fidgeted, her gaze flickering toward her friends’ surprised, curious stares. They looked down at her cuffed wrists, then back up at Becca and Sophie, likely eager to hear what had just happened.
The young woman, still clearly uneasy, continued to fidget with the cuffs, her every step betraying her growing discomfort. She glanced around, avoiding eye contact with anyone as if hoping to be invisible. Her sister, walking beside her, seemed to sense the tension and gave her a gentle, steadying touch. Together, they walked down the sidewalk and disappeared into a small chocolate shop, the woman’s eyes lingering on the door for a brief second before vanishing from view.
“How many restraints do you carry around with you?” Anne asked with a teasing grin, watching Sophie return to her seat after helping Becca slip back into her heels.
Becca chuckled, her smile steady, though there was a hint of something more serious behind her eyes. “When you have to be kept in restraints, you learn to keep extras on hand. Always good to have a backup.” She met Anne’s gaze, her expression briefly turning more serious. “And you heard Megan earlier. People will call the sheriff’s office if they see me without them. It’s happened before.”
Anne raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Someone already called the sheriff?”
Becca nodded, her lips pressing into a tight smile. “Yeah. Sophie and I were at the museum, and the elevators broke down. I couldn’t climb the stairs, so she took my leg cuffs off to help me. I guess someone noticed. By the time we got downstairs, the sheriff had already arrived.”
Anne shook her head in disbelief. “Wow. That’s ... ridiculous.” But then she sighed, “But people get used to things here.”
Becca’s smile faltered slightly, the reality of it sinking in. “Yeah, they do. Which means when people get used to seeing me like this, I suppose I’ll have to keep wearing them, even when I don’t have to. It’ll just be ... expected.” She looked down at her cuffs briefly, her fingers tracing over the metal as if contemplating the strange mix of necessity and routine. “It’s funny, but it becomes a part of your life—something you don’t even think twice about anymore.”
Anne, sensing the shift in Becca’s mood, nodded thoughtfully. “I think you’re already at that point,” she said quietly. “You’re the ‘woman in the restraints.’ So, yeah, even if you wanted to change, it’s going to be hard.”
Susan, seeing the interaction and the implications, sighed and nodded. “Megan’s probably already calling people and texting them. They’ll all be at the bookstore this week, hoping to see me like this.”
Becca, sensing the weight of the moment, tried to shift the mood with a small, teasing smile. “Well, just imagine how many books you’ll sell with Anne keeping you like that from now on,” she said, her tone light.
Susan blinked at her, a mix of confusion and alarm crossing her face. “From now on?” Her voice faltered, and she quickly added, “I—I thought this was just for tonight.”
Becca’s smile softened, becoming more thoughtful as she looked at Susan. “It is. But now that things are out in the open ... well, your sister’s right. The Band-Aid’s been ripped off.” She glanced toward Anne, then back at Susan, her voice lowering just a little, “As you said, Megan’s already telling everyone. You can’t really hide it anymore.”
Susan’s shoulders sagged slightly, the weight of her words sinking in. She looked down, her fingers nervously adjusting the cuffs on her wrists. There was a pause—an awkward, heavy silence—before she spoke again, her voice quieter. “I’m ... I’m not comfortable with that. It was only supposed to be for tonight.” Her words trailed off as if she were trying to make sense of the unexpected turn her evening had taken.
Anne’s gaze now shifted towards her sister. There was a weight in her voice when she finally spoke. “We’ve been talking about the bookstore, Susan,” she began, her words slow, measured. “The truth is, it’s not exactly thriving. Sales have been slow, and the bills keep piling up. I’ve had to pick up extra shifts at the department store just to keep us afloat. It’s hard, you know? Between the bills and everything else, I’m doing everything I can just to get by. And I sell pantyhose. It’s not like women buy those anymore.”
She took a deep breath as though choosing her following words carefully, then continued, her tone softening but still mingled with a sense of urgency. “But, we own the apartment and the bookstore outright. Thanks to Auntie. No rent, no mortgage. That’s a blessing, but ... it’d be nice to see the place actually start making some money. Instead of just getting by, paycheck to paycheck.”
Susan’s brow furrowed, clearly trying to connect the dots but finding it difficult. She looked down at her cuffed wrists, then back at Anne, her voice edged with confusion. “What does all this have to do with me being in these?” She gestured at the handcuffs, her tone turning a bit defensive. “Are you saying I should wear these to sell books? Like, you think people will buy more if they see me like this?”
She felt an uneasy tug in her chest. “You think me being in restraints is what’ll bring people in? Is that really what we’re talking about here?” Her voice was quiet, trying to process the weight of what Anne was suggesting.
As Susan tugged at her restraints, clearly growing more restless, the waitress arrived to top off our drinks. She gave a small smile, though there was a curious glint in her eyes. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation,” she said, her tone casual but laced with a bit of amusement. “People have been asking about you ... wanting a table inside where they could see you.”
She tilted her head toward the windows, and we all noticed that the restaurant had filled up considerably.
“Seems like people are genuinely interested in this sort of thing,” the waitress continued, gesturing at Susan and Becca in their restraints. There was a slight edge to her voice, almost like she found it both strange and fascinating.
She paused for a moment, then added, “My manager wants me to tell you ... if you’re willing to come back here more often, he’ll always give you dessert on the house.”
The offer hung in the air for a moment, and it felt almost out of place. Becca, who had been staring at the waitress with a careful expression, said. “That’s ... generous. Thanks.”
The waitress smiled, seemingly oblivious to the discomfort in the air. “I’ll bring you the dessert menus after your meals, and you can always take them to go if you prefer.” She gave one last polite glance toward Susan, whose face was flushed with frustration and embarrassment, before turning to fill the final water cup.
“Let me know if you need anything,” the waitress added brightly, as though everything was completely normal, before disappearing back into the restaurant.
The moment she was gone, a heavy silence settled over the table. Susan tugged again at her cuffs, clearly uncomfortable, her eyes darting toward the bustling interior of the restaurant where people were clearly watching. She let out a soft, frustrated sigh. “I didn’t think it would be like this,” she muttered under her breath, the reality of their situation sinking in.
Anne met Susan’s gaze, her expression soft but unwavering. “You’ve always been drawn to this kind of thing, Susan,” she said quietly, her voice carrying the weight of years left unspoken. “I know you’ve wrestled with it—tried to make sense of the feelings, the urges. You never talked about it, not really. But I saw the signs. The secrecy. The experimenting.”
Susan looked away, her jaw tightening.
Anne continued. “You thought no one noticed, but I did. The hidden books, the locked drawers, the way you carried this part of yourself like it was something to be ashamed of. I didn’t understand it then. Maybe I still don’t fully. But tonight...”
She paused, searching Susan’s face. “I never imagined something like this could actually happen. But here we are—talking. Like sisters. For the first time in ... I don’t even know how long.”
Anne’s voice softened further. “I know you’re only here because you’re in those. But maybe that’s what it took—for you to stop running from yourself. And for me to finally see you ... and make us ... talk.”
She took a deep breath, the words heavy in the air between them. “And that’s the reason why I won’t take you out of them, not even if it means you’re humiliated by it.”
Anne closed her eyes, the weight of her words sinking in. She seemed to gather herself before continuing, her voice now almost tender. “What I’m trying to say is ... I know you’ve struggled with this part of yourself. You’ve never quite figured it out. I think you’ve been scared to—scared of what others would think. Scared of what it means. But, Susan...” She reached out, gently placing a hand on her sister’s. “We’ve been growing apart for so long. But this ... this is bringing us back together. We’re finally being real with each other. And it’s only happening because you’re being forced to confront something inside of you.”
Anne paused, looking at her sister with an expression that was a mix of love, frustration, and hope. “I don’t want it to end just because I take you out of those later tonight. I don’t want this to go back to how it was. I don’t want to lose you again.”
There was a long silence as Anne closed her eyes again, gathering her thoughts. When she spoke, her voice was steady but filled with a deep, aching sincerity. “So, no. I wouldn’t be keeping you in them just to sell books or to get free desserts. I’d be doing it because maybe, just maybe, it will help you figure things out. If it helps us ... if it helps us save the bookstore, then I’m okay with that, too.”
Anne swallowed, the weight of her decision settling more profoundly into her chest. “I’ve never agreed with anything Megan’s said. But if she’s right ... if this is who you really are—if this is what you need, what you’ve always needed—then I’ll be okay with it. I’ll keep you in those. I’ll do whatever it takes to help you face this, to help us be real with each other.”
As Susan stared down at her cuffed wrists, the two college girls returned. Becca, her expression calm but focused, glanced at the young woman still restrained in the handcuffs.
“Ready to be released?” Becca asked, her tone soft but authoritative.
The young woman nodded quickly, “Yes. Please.”
Becca tilted her head, considering her. “How did it feel? The whole experience—did it do anything for you?”
The young woman hesitated, glancing at her sister before answering. “It was fun at first,” she said, her voice wavering slightly, “but now? I just want them off. They’re uncomfortable.”
Becca smiled gently. “So...” She raised an eyebrow, her tone teasing. “You didn’t feel anything else? No comfort? No sense of security, like a ... a blanket?”
The young woman’s face scrunched in disbelief. “God no,” she said firmly. “They’re cold. Uncomfortable. How could something like this feel good?”
Becca gave a slight nod, not pressing further on the topic. Instead, she spoke slowly, “Well, your sister put them on you. She’s the one looking after you. Taking care of you. There’s something in that, right? A kind of closeness. Knowing you’re helpless but in her care.”
The young woman stayed silent, a puzzled look on her face, but it was clear that the notion was foreign to her. She was still grappling with the idea.
Becca turned to the woman’s sister, and then her voice was calm but a little more serious. “And you? How do you feel? Do you want her out of them?” She paused, giving the woman space to answer. “Or do you think she still needs to stay in them? We can move them to the front, so they’re not behind her back.”
“She wants them off,” she said, speaking for her sister. It was almost a plea, her voice tense.
Becca’s eyes flicked to Sophie, who had already gotten up and walked over to the young woman. With practiced ease, Sophie gently removed the handcuffs. “If you want to try this again, let us know,” Becca said lightly, her gaze flicking between the two girls. “We’ll be here a little longer in case you change your mind.”
The young woman nodded, a tight smile on her lips, but didn’t say anything more. She and her sister exchanged quick glances, before walking across the street to regroup with their friends. As they disappeared into the crowd, both girls waved without looking back.
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