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The Proposition

Changing first person perspective about finding an interesting way to cope with an arranged marriage
Duty. That's what they told me it was. Duty to my family. Duty to my clan. Duty to the business. It didn't matter that that wasn't what I wanted. It was what I had to do. After all, it was only five years of my life. That is all they would ask of me. Just five years and, hopefully, a child or two. An arranged marriage seemed so outdated and somehow wrong, but, deep down inside, I knew it wasn't, not really. It was my chance to do something for the family, after all the years I avoided it. I readily admit that I used the company's money, the family's money to pursue my career outside of the business, and did nothing in return for either. My family, my clan, paid for my education and my rebellion, and now it was time to pay it back. Five years and a couple of kids, that was all. And if the marriage didn't work out, the children, if there were any, would spend equal amounts of time with both families. That was all that mattered to me, at that point. That if children were involved, both parents would be involved in their upbringing. So this is all I had to do to pay back my family: live in an arranged marriage for five years.

My husband is a decent man. He is hard working, very intelligent and has good genes and connections; otherwise my family would not think this a fortuitous match. Eric Wu is the CFO of his clan's business. He is a shrewd businessman; not cruel, never that, but shrewd in a way that has made their business very wealthy. Eric is neither incredibly attractive, nor is he unattractive. He has dark eyes, dark hair and a medium build. He is not terribly tall, but he's not short. In sum, he is an average looking man. He is also 35, and heirless. In companies that are owned and operated by clans, such as Eric's and my family's, heirs are incredibly important. His family needed an heir to Eric's position and my family wanted to acquire one of their businesses. It sounds draconian, but it really did make a lot of sense. At 28 with no husband or children, my family decided that it was time I pitched in, and I agreed. I didn't like the idea of using my family's money to further my own pursuits, and it was only five years.

It wasn't like I met my husband the day we were married; we met many times before the actual ceremony. But the wedding night was the first time we were alone. We didn't consummate the marriage that night; I had been far too tired, and Eric didn't want to "bother me". I had the feeling that he was avoiding touching me in any way. I knew he was not gay, because one of my friends had dated him a while back, and the impression that I got was that he was most definitely straight. The next night, however, was a different story. We were on our honeymoon, so, naturally, we slept together. The experience was... decent. I came, and so did he and I suppose that is all that matters. After our honeymoon, we moved into the starter house my family had bought for our wedding gift. The months following the wedding were not what you would call romantic, nor entirely comfortable.

As a book critic, I am able to work from anywhere, and I chose to work from home. This allowed me the time to see to the house and to my husband, well, according to my family that's why I did it. The truth is I just don't like to wake up early. But Eric, he was a horse of a completely different colour. He got up every morning at 5:30, no matter how late he came in the night before. He worked through the day, usually through lunch, and stayed late most of the week and most weekends. He really worked too hard. And when I saw him in the evening, he was too exhausted to do more than have a cursory conversation. He was distant most of the time. I think he didn't know how to treat me, or how to react to me. At night, we would do our marital duties, and that was that. I wish I could say that the sex became better, but in reality, it didn't. Well, at least not in those first few months. That all changed when Eric came to me one night with a proposition...

My wife. I still find it strange to say that. My wife. As arranged marriages went, ours was decent. Allison, my... wife, worked from home, took care of the house and even made my lunch on occasion. She is smart, rather witty and independent. She is pretty in that way that all young women are, in that there is an attractiveness in her youth and confidence. While she may not be an incredible beauty, she has an appeal. With her long black hair and dark brown eyes, she looked and dressed like any other normal Chinese Canadian woman. We got along well, though we weren't the best of friends and I don't think either of us actually had any strong feelings towards the other, but that was to be expected. I suppose I had hoped that there would be a respect formed for each other over the years. While neither of us were particularly wretched to the other, the first few months of our marriage were not exactly filled with warmth. It was mostly my fault, I guess. I was working horrible hours because of the big merger my company was doing with Allison's family's company. I was constantly tired and could not even work up the energy to engage my wife in interesting discussions. That is, when I saw her at all. By the time the merger was complete, we had been married almost six months, and, I guess, we were already stuck in our ways by then. I remember thinking that spending another four years and six months in the kind of distant marriage in which we were engaged would likely tear my sanity asunder. However, I was unsure how to go about fixing things. That is, until I happened upon the book.

After six months, Allison seemed to be pulling even further away from me. Not that she was cold or rude, but she seemed less and less interested in my day or in speaking to me, and far less interested in our nightly pursuits. I wasn't looking to have a "meaningful, deep and life-altering" relationship with my wife; I simply wanted a peaceful coexistence, which was not possible if she didn't even like me. I was baffled by this change and the solution continually evaded me, until I found the answer, rather unexpectedly one night. Our usual night time routine went thusly: I would get home at some unreasonable hour, sit down to dinner with Allison, do the dishes together, retreat upstairs, get ready for bed, go over my notes for the next day while Allison read beside me, turn out the lights, and attempt to make an heir. While Allison never denied me access to her body, neither did she come to me enthusiastically. It never really occurred to me that perhaps my performance was not up to snuff. That is until I happened to glance at my wife's nightly reading material. Because she is a literary critic, I often asked her to recommend books that she thought I may like, even though I barely had any time to read anything other than business notes. The one upon which I glanced was not a title I recognized. And the cover was quite... interesting. It featured a couple intimately entwined, with the woman's hands bound behind her arched back while the man licked her bare chest. More than slightly intrigued, I picked up the book and leafed through it. In it I found rather explicit scenes of hot sweaty sex involving light bondage and a bit of spanking. I felt that telltale tingling beginning below my waist, and as I read on, the tingling grew to a full blown hard-on. So that was what my little wife was into. I wondered if Allison could be this passionate, this wild. The thought stirred something in me, something that felt like more than just desire. Picturing my wife tied to our bed, blindfolded while I licked her entire body sent my pulse racing. I thought about what it felt like to be inside her body: the wet, tight squeeze of her inner core, her soft smooth skin rubbing against mine, her firm breasts pressed into my chest, the pulsing of her core in the throes of climax, the soft sigh of her breath on my neck as she came down from orgasm. Then I imagined her thrashing and screaming with passion under me, how her eyes would light up and become intense beacons of pleasure in the night, and I decided right then and there that that's what was going to happen. I just needed a plan.

The plan was rather simple in its design. A proposition. A fair and equitable exchange. I figured since Allison read those kinds of books - more of which I found secreted away in her bookshelf between other more innocuous titles - she would perhaps be more open to my idea. The problem came in the wording. I didn't know how to frame this proposition in a way that would not come off as crude and offensive. A couple of weeks went by, and our situation wasn't getting any better. In fact, our "marital duties", as I heard Allison refer to them once, became increasingly rare; going from nightly, to every other night, to a couple of nights a week. Not only was that part of our marriage suffering, but Allison became more withdrawn, leaving me to eat dinner alone, washing the dishes by herself, spending more time with her books than with her husband. I could tell she wasn't happy, and I didn't blame her. Who would be happy in an arranged marriage with a husband who worked too hard and couldn't even make it up by delivering mind-blowing, earth-shattering, body-shaking sex? But, of course, that was about to change. I decided that enough was enough and that I would just come out and lay the plan out in plain terms. So I told her my idea as we lay in bed one night. My proposition was this: one night per month each of us would get to live out a fantasy, with Allison going first, and me following a couple of weeks later. The rules were: 1) no causing physical harm to the other - light spanking excluded (no matter what her fantasy, there was no way I would ever harm Allison, not even if she begged me, and I most definitely was not into pain); 2) the fantasies must be discussed beforehand to minimize any shock and/or discomfort; 3) third or fourth parties were welcome, but only if all parties were in agreement (I was wholeheartedly hoping that she would be amenable to another woman joining us); 4) the fantasies may take place anywhere and anytime, including weekdays, even if I was at work (Allison's eyes widened at this one); 5) what happened between us, stayed between us - while gloating to our friends, coworkers, random strangers on the street about having an amazing sex life was more than welcome, the details were to remain a secret; and, most importantly, 6) both of us were to keep an open mind - there was to be no mocking, no looking down on the other's fantasy, no matter how odd it may seem to the other. This last rule was incredibly important to me, not because I thought I had any odd or weird fantasies, but I thought it would make Allison far more comfortable with the idea. I told her to think about it and to give me her answer whenever she had one, then I kissed her on the cheek, turned over and promptly fell asleep.

I remember sitting there stunned for quite a while. I couldn't figure out what he was up to. Or where this idea came from. I'm not going to lie; the idea of living out my fantasies got my blood racing, but I didn't know if I wanted to do it with Eric. Not to say that I would ever cheat on him, but I figured, by that point, I had gone my entire life without it, and what was five more years? After the first few months of our marriage, I knew there was no way I was staying with him forever. I mean we were just way too different. He was a Conservative, and I was a Liberal (or an NDPer when I was feeling particularly Communist). He liked documentaries, I liked things that blew up. He liked Chinese opera and I so didn't. He lived to work, I worked to live. And he only liked plain, boring, missionary sex. Or so I thought. He was making an effort. I got that. But I still didn't know if that's what I wanted from him. I went to sleep that night thinking about ways to let him down and still make it through this marriage.

The next morning dawned the same as usual. Everything seemed normal, except for me. I couldn't concentrate and found myself reading the same line two or three times before anything penetrated my cloud of thoughts. Racy, sexy, sweaty thoughts. I'd dreamed the night before that I was tied to the bed blindfolded with someone licking me from toe to head. As his tongue travelled upwards, more of his body rubbed against mine. I could feel his erection, hot and hard, precum leaving behind a slick trail. I was so hot and ready I couldn't stop squirming. Finally, he reached my lips, which he licked, then kissed. His tongue, that wicked, wicked tongue delved deep into my mouth. I tasted myself on him and my pussy spasmed. He reached up and took off the blindfold. And I found myself staring into Eric's dark brown eyes, now lit with an intensity I found so sexy. My dream me wasn't fazed at all, she just screamed with unadulterated pleasure when he thrust into her hard and fast, over and over and over again. I came so hard, it woke me up. I startled myself into a sitting position, panting and aching. I spent the next 20 minutes furiously masturbating to the quickly fading images of Eric (of all people) pounding into me as I lay strapped down. I came three times in those few minutes and I was nowhere near satisfied. If a dream could do that to me, I almost feared what reality would do. And just like that, I changed my mind.

That night I made Eric dinner. I checked with his assistant, and she (some young bubbly thing who actually caused a pang of jealousy to shoot through me when I talked to her) assured me that Eric was coming home "early", meaning he'd leave the office by 6:00 p.m. I made sure everything was ready for his arrival. I had everything laid out perfectly, I showered, put on makeup, did my hair and dressed in my most flattering casual dress - a little red number that set off my eyes and made my skin look pale like the moon. And for once, my workaholic husband actually got home at a decent hour. He stepped through the door to find me placing the food on the table. As he looked at me, I thought I caught a glimpse of my dream Eric, all hot and manly. I most definitely had not seen that look in his eye before. It caused a stir somewhere deep in my belly. After washing up, we sat down to the meal. All of his favourites lined our table. Eric didn't seem to be in any rush, and we spent a good long time eating and chatting, something we'd never done before. We both seemed so at ease with each other, but there was a definite undercurrent of passion, or the beginning of it, at least. I found that I couldn't sit still, despite the relaxed atmosphere and all the food. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I blurted out that I agreed to the proposition and that I didn't want to wait any longer. He simply smiled, shook his head and mildly chastised me for already breaking rule 2. Then he got up, pulled me from my chair and sealed the deal with a scorching hot kiss.

Eric pulled back with a fierce grin. This was not a man I recognized. He was so passionate! I had no idea this man lay beneath my husband’s stuffy super-worker exterior. I quickly outlined the fantasy I wanted to play out that night. This one was incredibly easy. I just told him about my dream from the previous night. Eric’s eyes sparked with desire. I felt a responding spark ignite below my belly button. My panties felt damp and my nipples rubbed against my dress most distractingly. We raced up the stairs and burst into our bedroom. Eric grabbed my hand, pulled me to him and fused his mouth to mine. A deep and hardy moan ripped from my throat. I stepped back, grasped the tied belt of my dress and pulled. It slipped off my shoulders revealing my best pair of tiny panties. He sucked in a sharp breath and growled for me to lie on the bed. I found myself complying without even thinking about it. My clit was pulsing furiously as I lay back and waited for fulfillment.

She wanted me to tie her up and do with her what I would. It was just like her book, which I had taken the liberty to read. We needed rope, but, because of my wife's impatience, we weren't exactly prepared. So I did what I could. I removed the ties from our house robes and secured one end to each of her wrists and the other end to the bed posts. By the time I returned to her side from fetching two of my ties, Allison was writhing in anticipation. I could smell her arousal, and it made me harder, more eager. To strip away all pretenses, to have sex for sex's sake, and not for procreation, it was heady and hot. After I tied down her legs at the ankles, I took a moment to "check out" my wife, as they say. She lay there with her arms and legs spread out, her chest heaving, her nipples stiff, her tiny scrap of panties soaked through and her eyes shining with heat and desire. I could hardly wait. I stripped off all but my boxer briefs and climbed onto the bed between Allison's legs. Looming over her, I couldn't help but feel a sense of dominance, power, even though I knew all the power lay with her. I would never do anything that she wouldn't want me to do, and she knew it. That knowledge was a sparkle in her eye; a mischievous twinkle that shot straight through my already overtaxed system. I swooped down to give her a hard kiss. She rose up as much as she could, straining against the restraints, trying to give as well as she got. Her hips started grinding on me, and I knew if she continued I would lose it. So I backed up and shook my head at her. Allison growled in frustration and I couldn't help but laugh. Her eyes shot daggers at me. I sat up on my knees and grasped her panties. With one little tug, I ripped her sexy little thong and threw it into some distant corner of the room. Then I leaned down and breathed deeply of my wife. Allison let out a sexy little moan I'd never heard before, and it made me want to pound into her as hard and as fast as I could. But I was striving to make this everything she wanted, so I checked myself and gave her a slow, deep lick. My tongue parted her folds and I felt her shudder. I had left a little give in her bindings, and now used them to my full advantage. I lifted her legs and bent her knees as far as they would go, then parted them so that I had full view of her core. Then I bent down and licked and sucked her until she was moaning and writhing in pleasure. At that moment, I lived to please her. All the other times we were together flashed through my mind, and I was ashamed to admit that I had never gone down on my wife before. I endeavoured to make up for the lack of attention. Then something occurred to me: we had forgone the blindfold. I rectified that by grabbing another tie. Allison actually purred when her sight was blocked. I trailed my hands down from her face to her neck, pausing at her firm breasts to give a little tug and a roll to her nipples. By the time I reached her centre, she was whimpering, practically begging, while her body moved restlessly. I thrust two fingers deep inside her and tongued her hard little button. Allison screamed and her back arched off the bed. I felt her start to pulse around my fingers, the beginnings of an orgasm wracking her body. So I sucked her clit between my teeth, found that elusive spot deep inside her and plied it mercilessly. I rode out Allison's orgasm, lightly stroking and licking her until her body shook. I eased up and took a look at my wife. Even blindfolded, she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. My breath caught a little at the thought that she was all mine. I felt a fierce grin spread on my face as I thought of all the things we could do together. Then I got down to the business of fucking my wife.

My fingers were drenched with Allison's juices, so I eased them into her mouth for her to clean them off. She licked at my fingers and drove me insane. I removed my digits from her mouth and spread her saliva on her nipples. By then my darling little wife was moaning and groaning, just short of begging me to take care of her. Instead, I leaned down and sucked first one, then her other nipple until she screamed. Then I licked up her body, gave her a hickey, then kissed her with everything I had. I wanted her to know that I was not giving up on us; that I was in it for the long haul. I may not have been in love with my wife when we married, but I was well on my way now. Thinking about losing her made me furious, and I poured all of my frustration, anger and passion into that kiss. Allison returned it in kind. She ate at my mouth, licking my tongue and rolling her hips. I knew what she wanted, what we both did, but I was loath to give it to her at that moment. I wanted to drag this out as long as I could, but feared I was fighting a losing battle. I levered myself off her body to her loud and heartfelt protests. I sat, panting, between her legs, trying to regain my breath and control. Allison started to beg, and I started to shake. She pleaded with me to finish the job, make her come again, fuck her, screw her, do anything I wanted with her, so long as she got to feel it. I didn't know how much longer I could take the begging. So I decided to even out the playing field. I started to tell her all the things that I wanted to do to her that night. I told her that I would begin by stripping off my boxer briefs and teasing her with my cock. I did as I spoke. I used my dick as a vibrator and brought her off again, though, admittedly, it was a small orgasm. But I spoke her through the whole thing. Then, as she was coming down, I described to her, in detail, what would happen next. By the time I was done speaking, she was begging again. Begging for me to do everything I told her I was going to do. Begging me to give her what she wanted. And that caveman part of my brain yelled in triumph. If I could give this to her, show her how good, how hot it could be between us, then maybe she wouldn't leave me. I wasn't dumb enough to think that this was all that it would take to keep her with me, but I thought it was a start. I realized then that I had made a grave error in judgment. In an attempt to get my wife all hot and bothered for me, I inadvertently made myself hotter. Watching Allison writhe and squirm like that and knowing it was my words, my body doing that to her, made me unaccountably horny. I couldn't take it anymore and thrust into her.

He was driving me insane. That must have been his purpose with this little proposition. He wanted to drive me nuts. I couldn't move my hands or my feet and I couldn't see. All I could do was feel what Eric was doing to me. And it was amazing! That kind of passion and intensity was not something I expected from my husband, but was he proving me wrong. He had been toying with me for so long that when he thrust into me, I almost came... again. I bit my lip and held back, wanting to enjoy this a moment longer. It was exactly like my dream, but so much better. It was sexier, hotter, more intense and I didn't know what to do with myself. I could only buck and scream and beg Eric to continue, to stop, to do whatever he wanted, and to do exactly what I wanted. I wasn't making any sense and I knew. I felt Eric laughing at me, so I squeezed my inner muscles and his laugh choked off. But my revenge had a nasty consequence. I felt another orgasm starting and this time, I couldn't stop it. I came hard, screaming Eric's name at the top of my lungs, and still he didn't stop. He kept pounding into me harder and faster until I felt another, bigger orgasm begin.

Just as that massive orgasm started to crescendo, Eric ripped off the blindfold. I found my dream playing itself out in real life. The look in his eye, the heat and passion, was identical to my dream Eric's. But unlike that me, I was in complete awe. I wouldn't say I was shocked, but I wasn't exactly prepared for what I saw in his gaze. It was like he was trying to imprint himself on me; trying to make me remember who he was, not that I'd ever forget. It wasn't just lust, it was something deeper, but I didn't have the energy or mental acuity to try to figure it out. Eric leaned forward to kiss me, and it changed the angle of his thrusting. Suddenly, I could feel him all over. His cock stroked my g-spot on the way in and my clit on the way out; his chest rubbed against my nipples; his tongue stroked mine; and his hands were everywhere. My hands kept clenching, as if they ached to touch him. My legs pulled against their bindings, wanting to wrap around him. In that moment, I wanted to pull him close and hold him as tight as I could, feeling him all along me. As if reading my mind, Eric thrust hard, plastering his body to mine. His arms went around me and pulled my upper body as far as the ties would let me go. He thrust again and again, and then he was coming in me, and I was screaming his name as I pulsed around him.

I must have passed out, because the next thing I remember is lying on the bed, my hands and feet free, Eric rubbing the marks the robe belts left on my wrists. It was such a sweet gesture, at complete odds with what had just transpired. I looked at him and couldn't help smiling. He took my face into his hands and kissed me gently. Then he lay down next to me, curled his body into mine, kissed the back of my head and wished me a goodnight. As I drifted off that night, I could have sworn I heard him say he loved me. Or maybe that was wishful thinking. But I did know two things for certain: 1) this proposition was the best thing to happen to our marriage, and 2) I was definitely looking forward to fulfilling Eric's fantasy next.

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