Belle's Proposition

I walked into the Starbucks tentatively. She was sitting at a table in the corner, sipping her oat milk latte. She beamed when she saw me, sprang up from the table and gave me a big hug.

“Oh—hey, how are you doing?” I stuttered.

She looked amazing. Thin with wavy blonde hair falling down to her shoulders, accenting her deep brown eyes. She was cute. Actually, she was pretty hot. She told me all about graduation, her ex-boyfriend, and her future plans. We reached a lull in the conversation and she shifted her cup around absently.

“So…I wanted to ask you about that thing last year…”

Here we go.

“Are you…are you…”

My whole body was tense. She was going to ask if I was a ****.

“Are you still into that stuff?”

She glanced up at me.

“Oh. Um,” I paused. “What stuff?”

She scoffed and looked away.

“I’m not judging, I’m just curious.”

“Look, it’s not really what it looks like, I--“

“No, seriously, I’m not judging, I…” she smiled disarmingly. “I get it, believe me.”

“Okay…” I let out a small sigh of relief. Where exactly was this going? I knew, but I couldn’t let my mind go down that path.

“Well, yes. It’s something I’ve liked for a while.” I swallowed and I could feel my face turning a bit red.

She looked away again and spoke very slowly.

“It’s something I have wanted to try lately.”

I could feel my dick swell up a bit.

“You know my ex? I was talking about this with him a while ago, and we had a few things in common.” She glanced back at me. “We started to experiment, just a little bit. Y’know, a lot of people who grow up kinda repressed develop similar…tastes,” she said with a giggle.

My dick swelled a bit more. She kept going.

“I mean, I guess I’ve always liked it.” She blushed. “But he was so inexperienced — and I am, too — we just didn’t know what we were doing.” She sighed. “It was fun, I guess. But I really want to take it further.” She looked at me with her deep brown eyes. “With someone who’s more experienced with that sort of thing, you know?”

My heart was pounding. I smiled and looked down at the table for a moment. Finally, I met her eyes.

“That can be arranged.”

She beamed. “I was hoping you’d say that,” she said, nudging my foot under the table. She reached over the table and grabbed my hand. I was thinking with my dick, obviously. But I wasn’t going to say no. The only problem was, as she said, her inexperience. I don’t know what kind of sexual relationship she’d had with her ex, exactly, but I gathered that he took her virginity. They weren’t together for very long, either.

“How much experience do you have?” I asked. “With sex in general, I mean.”

“Well, I’m not a virgin,” she said with a proud smile.

“Just with your ex?” I asked.

“Yeah, just him. If you’re not counting the other boys I kissed.”

“Right.” I paused. She really had no idea what she was asking for. “How…many times with your ex?”

She seemed surprised by the question. “Um…like 8 or 9?”

My dick was basically fully hard under the table. She must be so tight…

She looked like she wanted to say something.

“I like…” she lowered her voice. “BDSM,” she whispered, mischievous glint in her eye.

“Wow,” I said, trying to look impressed and stifling a laugh.

“Yeah,” she continued. “I wanna be choked and slapped, that kind of thing. Chains and whips. My ex…he likes the idea, but…”

“Are you…” I paused. “Are you sure you want that?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah, I’m super into it. I’ve seen 50 Shades of Grey,” she smirked. “And all the sequels.”

“Right…” She was cocky, young, and inexperienced. I was sure she didn’t really know what she was asking for, but my dick was just a little bit too hard for me to be too worried about that right now. She didn’t know the **** and degradation I was capable of. Even if I told her, would she understand? I thought about dominating her slim body, owning her, making her my ****. Maybe she needed to be taught a lesson.

“Listen, I…” I searched for the words, sighing. I had to do the right thing. God, I hate my conscience. “I don’t mean to sound condescending, but I really don’t think you know what you’re asking for.”

She blinked, clearly offended. “Excuse me?” She said. “You don’t have to look out for me.” She huffed. “God, I thought you’d be different from all the pussies my age!”

She was appalled, but there was also a tinge of…insecurity? Maybe she thought I didn’t want her. In her mind, I would be unable to resist a pretty young thing like her throwing herself at me. And she wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t stupid. I have no idea how a gen z girl thinks. None of it makes sense to me.

“No,” I said, backtracking, “I’m just saying that we need to set some clear boundaries, for your sake. What are your hard limits?”

She glared at me, suspicious. “Okay…”

I cut her off. “Wait—the ‘pussies your age’…? What does that mean?”

She huffed again, exasperated. “I don’t know, boys are all afraid of me, I swear. They’re afraid to talk to a girl. Whatever.” She looked at me, softening a bit. “But women aren’t…we want…” She searched for the words. “Well, I want men to flirt with me. I want to have sex! Do you know how hard I had to push my ex for it? It was like he didn’t even want to have sex with me. But I love sex! I’m obsessed with sex!” She practically slammed her palm the table.

I couldn’t mask my smile.

“What?” She demanded.

“No, I just…um, me too. I’m also obsessed.”

“Yeah, and you’re not afraid to — well, I thought you weren’t — y’know, take it.” She looked me in the eyes. “I thought you were the kind of guy who wants to fuck a girl and then goes out and fucks her just because you want her.”

She let the challenge hang in the air.

“You’re really something”. I exhaled. “I’m not afraid of women. And I…like sex,” I added awkwardly. “I want to sleep with you. I really, really want to sleep with you. I’m just saying…you have to, uh…”

She raised her eyebrows at me, exasperated. “You have to what? You’re an adult. I’m an adult. So...”

I laughed and she smiled, crossing her arms.

“Yeah.” I relented.

She leaned back, apparently satisfied.

“Good.”

“But we do need boundaries,” I began as she rolled her eyes. “I’m serious! This isn’t a being-a-pussy thing. This is a normal part of the process.”

“The BDSM process?”

“Yes,” I said, “The…BDSM process. We just need to figure out limits and stuff so I don’t cross a line.”

“You couldn’t,” she smiled, touching my hand again.

Maybe you have to rough up the young ones, sometimes.

I smiled. “Wanna bet?”

We established a basic light system — green, yellow, and red — a few other basic things. I also told her that it would be just me, that I wouldn’t bring in any friends to gangbang her while she was tied up. She looked a bit startled when I said that, unaware that was a possibility in the first place.

“How big was your ex?” I asked.

She smirked. “Oh, I don’t know…I’d say pretty big. And what about you?” She glanced down across the table at my crotch. “Is it big?”

I nodded, a bit sheepish. “It’s bigger than average.”

“Much bigger than average?”

“Much bigger.”

She squealed with delight. Yeah, honey, I’m sure you’re a real size queen. She was going to wish I was the size of her ex when I was done with her.

“My first girlfriend told me she felt like she’d sat on a fire hydrant the day after,” I said matter-of-factly. “I’m just trying to warn you so you can mentally prepare.”

Girls had struggled with my dick size before. At first, it was fun, but it’s really just a novelty. It hurts! Even some pretty experienced girls just put on an act for me and beg me to cum. That’s one way you know they’ve reached their breaking point—they desperately, earnestly beg for your cum.

“Well, thank you so much for warning me,” she said, a tinge of sarcasm in her voice. “Thank you for protecting me from your big giant cock, which is extremely huge.”

I’m getting roasted by a teenage girl who thinks 50 Shades of Grey is the height of debauchery.