The Proposition

Barbara and Linda sat across from each other on Linda’s deck.

“So, what’s new?” Linda asked, her tone light, but her eyes sharp.

Barbara hesitated. She knew Linda’s game — always pushing, always making her feel like the prudish one. And yet, here she was, about to take the bait.

“Well,” Barbara said, watching for Linda’s reaction,

“I’ve decided to let my husband sleep with another woman.”

Linda blinked, then leaned in.

“Wait. What?”

Barbara smiled.

“You heard me.”

Linda’s lips parted slightly, and Barbara felt a flicker of satisfaction. It wasn’t often she managed to surprise her.

“Alright,” Linda said. “I have to know — why?”

Barbara shrugged.

“He’s into S&M. I’m just… not. So, I figured, why not let him have his fun with someone who is?”

Linda raised an eyebrow.

“And you’re just going to let him run off and find some random woman?”

Barbara shook her head.

“Of course not. I’ll be the one choosing.”

Linda’s smile was slow and knowing.

“Now that I want to hear more about.”

She leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

“What if it were me?” she asked.

Barbara frozen, her fork halfway to her mouth.

“You’re joking.”

Linda shrugged.

“Not at all.”

Barbara stared at her, waiting for the punchline. When none came, she shook her head.

“It would have to be someone willing to let my husband tie her up and whip her.”

Linda didn’t even flinch.

“That’s fine.”

Barbara let out a nervous laugh.

“Linda, come on. It’d be too weird. You’re my best friend. I’d be jealous for sure.”

Linda tilted her head, considering.

“Then watch. See me paid. Maybe you’d even enjoy punishing me yourself.”

Barbara’s breath caught. Was Linda really offering herself to her husband?

Finally, she exhausted and shook her head.

“I already have a volunteer.”

Linda’s eyes widened.

“What?”

Barbara smiled.

“I don’t believe you,” Linda said, folding her arms.

“Who?”

Barbara hesitated, then surprised.

“Natasha.”

Linda’s mouth snapped shut. She sat back, her eyes narrowing, clearly processing what Barbara had just said.

For the rest of lunch, Linda didn’t say another word on the subject — but Barbara could feel her mind racing, even as she tried to hide it.

*** Natasha

Barbara couldn’t shake the thought looping in her mind — Linda had openly admitted she found Ken attractive enough to be willing to be whipped for a chance to sleep with him.

And now, Natasha — her own daring, lustful alter ego — was stirring inside her.

She commanded Natasha, and Natasha obeyed.

Willingly.

Eagerly.

It was intoxicating.

When Natasha came, Barbara ordered her to strip.

She made her knee, forehead pressed to the floor, completely exposed.

Sometimes she had her serve dinner that way — naked, silent, obedient.

Other times, Barbara let her worship her feet, her body.

And when the mood struck, she used a belt.

Barbara tried to go about her usual household routine, but the thoughts wouldn’t leave her.

Her mind was a battlefield, torn between the composed wife she had always been and the woman she was beginning to unleash.

Then, an hour after lunch, her thoughts were interrupted.

Linda marched into the living room.

Barbara stood instinctively, but words failed her.

Linda studied her, then smiled. “So it’s true.”

Barbara’s pulse spiked.

“I hear you’ve already had a little fun with your Natasha,” Linda continued, her tone unreadable.

Barbara opened her mouth, then shut it.

Linda stepped closer.

“So you enjoy it too — being in control… giving orders.”

Barbara felt warmth coil low in her belly. Still, she said nothing.

Linda’s eyes gleamed.

“Or perhaps,” she murmured, tilting her head, “you identified with Natasha as she submitted?”

The question sent a shiver down Barbara’s spine.

She didn’t know how to answer.

Because the truth was, she wasn’t sure anymore.

Barbara’s heart pounded.

Linda took a step closer.

“We’ll see which it is,” she murmured.

“Come here.”

Barbara swallowed hard. Linda had Always been the leader. And when Barbara was around her, she was the follower.

“Give me your hands.”

Barbara hesitated, but then, almost without thinking, she extended them.

Linda seized her wrists and twisted them behind her back, forcing her down onto her knees.

They stayed like that, motionless, for a long moment — Barbara kneeing, Linda standing above her, holding her wrists.

“Are you getting turned on?” Linda finally asked in a soft but commanding voice.

Barbara was breathing heavily.

Linda placed a hand under Barbara’s chin, lifting her face. Then, she caresed her cheek.

Without breaking eye contact, Linda slide a finger between Barbara’s lips.

“Suck,” she whispered.

Barbara’s lips closed around the fingerprint, her breath shuddering.

When Linda withdraw, Barbara’s lips made a fear, lingering kiss in the air.

Linda smiled.

“So now we know,” she said.

Then she turned and walked out of the room, leaving Barbara on her knees, trembling and breathless.

Barbara remained there, frozen.

Eventually, she forced herself up and tried to return to her chores, but she barely got anything done.

Later, Barbara stepped outside.

She frozen.

Linda was speaking with Ken. Their conversation stopped the moment they noticed her.

Linda turned to Ken.

“Watch,” she said.

Then, she turned to Barbara.

“Kneel.”

Barbara’s pulse spiked. No. No way.

Before she could react, Linda seized her wrists, forcing her down — just as she had earlier.

Barbara looked up, breathless, her heart pounding.

Linda crouched in front of her, then, without warning, grabbed her blouse and tore it open.

Barbara gasped, but Linda silenced her with a single finger against her lips.

A silent command.

Barbara’s breath hitched as Linda leaned in, her touch hovering — so close, almost grazing her skin, but never quite making contact.

Then, with antinizing slowness, Linda slide Barbara’s blouse from her shoulders.

Her bra was next.

Barbara shivered as the night air kissed her bare skin.

Linda smiled.

“Now it’s your turn,” she said, turning to Ken.

Ken stepped forward, his gaze locked onto Barbara.

He took her hand and led her inside.

The door shut behind them.

Before she could gather her thoughts, Ken pulled her into a deep, claiming kiss — his tongue pushing past her lips, his hands urgent against her body.

Barbara melted against him.

She didn’t resist.

She told herself this was for him,that she was merely indulging his desires, allowing him to explore what she could not provide.

Then why did her body respond so easily? Why did she shiver at the firm press of his hands down her spine?

A whisper echoed in her mind.

You like this. You want more.

Natasha was awake.

Barbara sank onto the floor beneath him, her breath shallow as Ken moved above her, still kissing her, still pulling her deeper.

She expected guilt. Shame. Hesitation.

None came.

She shouldn’t enjoy this.

But she did.

His hand found her nipple, rolling it between his fingers. His other hand worked the rest of her clothes away, leaving her bare beneath him.

Barbara tipped her head back, surrendering to the reckless heat that surged through her.

Is This still for him?

Or had she crossed into Natasha’s world?

Ken shifted, rolling her on top of him.

She felt it then — the ropes secure her wrists, the silk binding her ankles.

She gasped, testing them.

A reflection in the darkened window caught her eye.

Flushed cheeses. Parted lips. Dark, hungry eyes.

She barely recognized herself.

Ken leaned in, his voice a whisper against her skin.

“You’re going to love the whip.”

Her heart pounded.

She could stop this. She could slip back into herself, into Barbara, the composed wife who kept control.

But Natasha lingered.

Daring her.

Barbara swallowed hard. Her voice was barely audible.

“Yes.”

And for just a little while longer, she let Natasha have her.

Knowing that, in the end, she would have to find her way back.