The Night of the Wedding

The young bride stood naked, handcuffed, and trembling in the bridal suite of the large hotel. She was about to play a game: Andrew Compton's game. Compton sat watching her closely, a thin smile on his face, a cigarette smoldering between his fingertips. He could sense her fear and fed on it like a predator gaining strength from the scent of fear in his prey. At thirty-two, Compton was already a millionaire many times over and a man who knew how to get what he wanted. And at the moment what he wanted was his beautiful wife to display her naked flesh to others. He gazed with pleasure at her milky white skin and silky raven hair and began explaining the rules of the game.

"As soon as you exit the room, Becky, the clock will start. I'll give you a series of tasks you'll have to complete in order to find the key to the handcuffs and then find the room key in order to get back in. I won't allow you in if you don't find it." He paused for a moment to let this sink in. "If you aren't back within an hour the door will be bolted shut and won't be opened until 6 a.m. tomorrow morning. I'll give you your initial instructions to get you started once you’re in the hallway."

A nervous chill swept through Rebecca's body. "Aren't you afraid we'll get kicked out of the hotel?" she asked.

Andrew chuckled and took a drag off of his cigarette. "I’d probably be worried if I wasn't part owner of the hotel."

Rebecca stood silently allowing Andrew's eyes to roam across her body. She knew she couldn't hide her nervousness but wasn't going to allow him the satisfaction of hearing her plead or beg. Compton sat quietly for a few minutes allowing the fear and anticipation to build in the young woman. Finally he spoke. "It's time to get started, dear."