Samir was kneeling, dazed in his hotel room.
Why does Nosi put me through this? Bianca Chemise Nosegay really knew how to break a man...but he was still so excited!
He'd really enjoyed his book tour, and his text, "The Creative Femdom Marriage" had taken off. He'd never expected to be asked to do seminars on this topic, but he'd greatly appreciated being on the panel that had appeared in Firenze, Italy, then in Berlin, West Perth, God, all over the world, and back in the United States.
When had Nosi decided to take the whole thing up a notch? Here they were in Glasgow, and Scotland was an odd place for kinky seminars, but he'd debuted with his book, on the same panel with Mistress Roulette and a dozen other writers and artists.
But when the panel was over and the party and drinks were being served, Samir's neighbor, Nosi, who had kindly accompanied him, had taken the mike and told everyone that after Samir had answered questions he would have to go upstairs to his room.
"He's being punished for too much ego." Nosi had said, and everyone in the audience had laughed. Samir had tried to stand up to Nosi, and he'd told her that she was off-side, and then she'd ordered him, in front of the entire room, to drop his pants and grab his ankles.
And what could he do? Samir had spent an hour discussing how submissive partners needed to have their limits expanded, and boundaries broken. But Samir had argued with Nosi, and then, in front of everyone, she'd asked if a spectator could lend her a thick leather belt.
And Samir had, indeed dropped his pants and taken twenty-five from Nosi, and then Nosi had offered the belt to a muscular attendee, a big masculine guy with a thick moustache, and he'd taken over the corporal ministrations.
After this, Mistress Roulette had pulled out a whip that was made up of five strings of ball-bearings, and she'd caused poor submissive Sammy to wish he'd never taken up BDSM erotica writing...it wasn't a life for a scribe!
And of course Samir had quivered and shivered, his pants clogging his ankles as everyone had watched in amusement. Then Samir had run upstairs to his hotel room amid derisive laughter, and thrown himself on the hotel room bed, crying bitterly in shame and humiliation.
After several hours, Nosi had come up to the room, slightly drunk, her lipstick smeared. She'd watched Samir's shaking body, his welted buttocks trembling.
"I don't know why you're so upset, Samir." Nosi said with a tipsy smile. "You're always talking about how you want the dominant partner to make sudden decisions so the slave or whatever can cede control. I just demonstrated that for the group, is all."
Samir raised up from the bed and regarded Nosi with tear stained eyes. Such thick dark hair, and full lips...and how gorgeous she looked in the evening gown! She had not really given Samir permission to pull up his trousers, so he'd gone in the elevator with them lowered and they were still around his knees and ankles.
Nosi saw the question in his eyes. "No, you can't pull up your pants. And you aren't going to rest your face on my pretty pillow tits either. You showed real attitude tonight, after all that lecturing about learning to subjugate yourself. You're nothing but a hypocrite, Samir."
Samir's dick was stiff as a board. He swung his legs to the floor and stood up, and tried to hide his penis with his palms, and of course this was no help at all. He almost wished he was wearing that painful chastity device, because having his pud poking through his shirtsleeves was really just, sad.
After Nosi had "extended" Samir's limits in front of his fans at the conference, Mistress Roulette, his co-panelist had approached her. Roulette seemed like a fearsome Goddess.
She had dark tousled hair and formidable eyebrows, and had discussed mummifying slave males and how to "Turn a Nutsack into a Punching Bag" using a muscled forefinger, and everyone had seemed a bit terrified, if fascinated.
But then Roulette had asked Nosi if she'd come to Rouli's suite for a drink.
