23 year-old Gary Thompson had been honeymooning on a tropical island for six days when just after breakfast his bride Veronica smirked: "I've been reading some kinky stuff in that book I bought at the airport, and I've started to wonder what it would be like to tie you up. What do you think?"
He laughed innocently, but as they'd had sex at least twice every day for nearly a week, happily agreed to Veronica's suggestion that they "try something "a bit different" in case it was that or nothing. His new wife was way too attractive for him to refuse her anything, and if she wanted to have sex with him, in whatever way she wanted, then he already knew that he was going to spend the rest of his life saying either "yes" or "yes please".
He undressed, lay on the bed, stretched out like a large X and got incredibly aroused as his wife used both pieces of two bikinis to tie his wrists and ankles to the corners of the bed. And then, just as his erection throbbed to full size without even being touched, she nodded towards the balcony, laughed and said: "It's too nice out there do anything just now, so I'm going to go lie in the sun for a bit. I'll keep reading my book until I've decided what to do when I get back, and you can get all excited wondering what that's going to be."
Gary started to protest, but all that did was make Veronica laugh even louder. She'd tied her husband up fully intending to see what it would feel like to tease and torment Gary before fucking him, but that could wait. She'd spent two days about it, and had decided that most fun thing, would be to tie up her new husband, watch him get excited, and then spend a few hours laughing in the sunshine about leaving him like that.
Veronica kissed her husband on the head, joked "don't go anywhere, I'll be back at lunchtime," and wearing nothing except sandals and a blue bikini even skimpier than the ones she'd used to restrain him, practically skipped out of the hotel room.
Gary Thompson spent thirty minutes staring up at the ceiling fan wondering why his wife hadn't at least turned on the TV, when he heard the bedroom door unlock. He glanced up to see two maids in white one-piece tunic-dresses peer in, heard them both gasp, watched the door close, sighed with relief that they hadn't entered the room, and then felt his heart stop as the door opened again.
Two women in their forties, dark-skinned, dark-haired, slightly overweight, dressed identically in one-piece white tunic dresses and soft white shoes giggled as they dragged in a wheeled linen basket, followed by a trolley piled high with cleen sheets and fresh towels. They closed the door behind them, and stood next to the bed talking in a language he didn't understand. He tried asking to be untied, but they didn't reply, and even though he didn't speak a word of any language other than English, Gary Thompson started to sweat with the realisation that the maids were talking about him.