Hotel Roissy 2a - Experiment

At a sex-positive convention, Bella--an artist and secret heiress--sets up an exhibition modeled after her future BDSM hotel. As she navigates new partnerships, sells provocative art, and tests a billionaire playboy's ability to dominate, she discovers that pain, like art, is best when it's shared.

Who's Who

This is a story for the

Virtual Literotica Convention 2025 Author Challenge

(LIT CON 2025).

The idea is to take characters from other stories and let them travel to a convention on sex-positivity (LitCon), and meet each other. My story is about Rodrigo and Bella, with appearances by Cassie, Victoria, Marlowe, Tiafell, Hiraya and Freya.

Bella

is the heiress to a hotel dynasty. However, she rebelled against the rigid hotel life to live as a bohemian artist near Portland's dockside, She found a home in Portland's BDSM scene and her paintings explore her kinks. Recently she reconnected with her family and took over her father's old hotel

The Rosy

, intending to transform it into a BDSM resort under the new name

"Hotel Roissy"

. She is in her twenties. Her backstory is here:

Hotel Roissy Part 1

. This story happens between part 1 and 2 of the Hotel Roissy series.

Rodrigo

The epitome of the daddy type: calm, assured, very strong, protective. Very rich. Even if he did not have all that money, girls would still be all over him. Large, handsome man. Round face, light brown skin, curly hair cut short. Pencil beard running the jaw edge. Gym goer. Great dancer, club goer. Ladies' man, playboy. He appears in

Falling for Dad's Slut

by

VerbalAbuse

Cassie

is a dominatrix and runs a BDSM club called the

'Lost and Found'

She has introduced

Victoria and Marlowe

to the kinky lifestyle. Victoria is into public humiliation for which the LitCon offers ample opportunities. They are from the epic

"Only Consenting Adults"

by

OneAgainst

Tiafell

is an elf, highly androgynous and easily passes for a woman as he enjoys cross-dressing and acting like a woman, something that Rodrigo finds very attractive.

Tiafell the Femboy Elf

by

Bassytian

Freya Gersemi

is both author and figure. She came up with the idea for this challenge:

Freya Gersemi

The atmosphere at the convention

magically

prevents STDs and pregnancies.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Preparation

It was the first hectic time after she had been given reign of the 'Hotel Rosy' with the intention of turning it into a BDSM resort.

To relax Bella scanned one of her favourite websites, Literotica.com for some interesting erotic stories to read. In the forum she came across an announcement:

Literotica Convention 2025

A weekend of talks about all facets of eroticism and a chance to live them out.

'This could be fun, and maybe I can find inspiration on how to design the Roissy.' she thought.

Then an idea struck her, 'what if I don't just go there as a visitor? I could take my paintings and exhibit them there. It's in Grand City, there should be many rich and perverted people there.'

The gears of her mind started rotating, 'maybe I can do even more? I could set up the exhibition like a makeshift dungeon like the special private BDSM-suites I am planning. Kind of a test, what do people like? It's in a few weeks time. Perfect!'

Decision was quick, but of course organizing took some time. She emailed back and forth with Freya Gersemi who had created the event. While doing so, another email popped up. It was from a guy called Rodrigo, and it was sent via her sales website where she displayed her paintings.

"I like your painting style and your works. I am considering to buy one of them."

She answered quickly because many asked her such questions in spite of the high prices she listed on the site.

"You can order them through the site, or you can look at them here in my studio in Portland."

"Too far, and your prices are too high to just order online. If you're asking the price of a luxury car, I expect a test drive at least."

"Unfortunately, I can't load my paintings onto a truck and drive around like a traveling salesman."

"Hey, here I'm really interested, but you must be a bit more accommodating."

She now googled his name, and oh, that man would indeed be able to afford her paintings. "Self-made billionaire, known for his lascivious lifestyle. Seen with many different beautiful women and sometimes also with young men... Renowned art collector."

The last words woke her up. She changed her tone And he lived in Grand City!

"Actually, I can bring all my paintings to you! I will have an exhibition in Grand City in June. Isn't that where you live?" She showed that she had done her homework now.

"Ok, when and where?"

"The exhibition will be June 6th - 8th in the Grand City Hotel during the Literotica Convention."

A few hours later he wrote, "What is this convention? It sounds like an intellectually idealized swinger-club to me."

"Could be. You will definitely find the atmosphere erotically charged there. And which paintings are you most interested in? I will make sure to bring them, this way you get to become the curator for the exhibition."

The weeks went by quickly. The truck expediting her images came and picked up the wooden crate with the images.

She sent Rodrigo a selfie of herself in front of the selected paintings as they went into the crate.

"Fine, see you in two weeks. Can we have a private viewing apart from the convention?"

"I'll set up on Thursday and Friday before the convention opens. You want to come? The convention starts at 7 pm. Enough time before that."

"Ok, I'll be there at 5 pm. And then we can stroll over the convention opening. The food at the GC-Hotel is said to be fine. You will be my host." He did not ask, he stated.

He had done some googling too. First, it looked as if she operated a cafe near Portland's docks and lived in a shabby studio above it. Digging deeper revealed that she was not a poor artist living a bohemian dream. It turned out she was the third generation heiress to a well-established family of hoteliers. He saw the Atlantic Hotel and the Rosy. The website of the Rosy said it was changing its name to Roissy while undergoing extensive renovations under the supervision of the owner's daughter Bella. A floor with fantasy-themed rooms was due to be opened later this year. To see the rooms and their themes, you had to become a friend of Roissy. It cost you a whopping grand to join, but you would get a free weekend in one of the rooms.

"Is it worth becoming a friend of Roissy?" he wrote.

"Definitely, but you don't have to. The exhibition in GC will be decorated like one of the new rooms. But to give you a hint, they are all private dungeons."

"Dungeons?"

"Yeah, dungeon like in BDSM. Ropes, chains, cages, whips, etc. Got exposed to that?"

"Not really. I always thought this BDSM stuff was stilted and theatrical."

"Could be, it's roleplay, and it's fun to play out a role theatrically; it helps to lose yourself and become your role. Shedding your regular self to be your true self. If you only see the acting, then you miss the purpose."

Setting up in Grand City.

After days of joyful anticipation, she arrived Friday morning at the Grand City Hotel armed with a toolbox.

Work on setting up her exhibition 'dungeon' had already begun. In the center of the room a large metal 4-poster bed was just being assembled. It had all sorts of attachment points, rope was lying decoratively on the blanket. In a corner a low cage that you could only crawl inside and barely sit. A St.-Andrews-Cross was already fixed to the wall. A Spanish horse and a dog cot completed the furniture.

In a corner the box with the paintings stood still unopened. Bella undid the screws of the box and pulled out the six paintings of her oeuvre she had brought. They looked like classic oil paintings in the style of the old grand masters, but their content in a contemporary setting and often subtly disturbing. People in a normal setting but strangely rapt. Chained, showing welts, tears running down smiling faces, bodies contortioned by ropes.

The two largest paintings were mounted over the windows so that you could not see that you were actually on the 3rd floor but believed yourself in a dungeon.

Two metal arcs were mounted in the center of the room with a ring at their crossing to allow suspension bondage. The walls were covered with cardboard. She took a can of paint and a brush, and with a few clever strokes she created the illusion of a tomb hewn into bare rock.

Her latest favorite image of Lauren as a gardener went to the best place across the entrance. Now lights out, spotlights on, and the atmosphere of a dungeon was there. She looked around. The room was a prototype of the theme suites she wanted to set up in her Hotel Roissy. The convention visitors were ideal to test if the concept worked. Rodrigo was critical of BDSM but wanted a painting, she wondered why.

She wandered down to get herself a coffee from the bar. There a number of people had assembled who she recognized as participants of the convention from the convention's chat group.

She went to introduce herself. There was Freya who had originally come up with the idea for this convention and her husband Alex. Two more women were with them, that she recognized as Syn and Katie. Ted and Jan Smith were there too and gave her a hug.

She wandered over to another group she recognized as the people who centred around a place called the 'Lost and Found'.

"You must be Cassie! And you Victoria and Marlowe. Hi, I'm Bella." She went straight for it, "Cassie, can we get together sometime during the convention? I have so many questions about the 'Lost and Found'! I also want to open a BDSM venue. It's actually a Hotel - the Hotel Roissy."

"Oh, ok, yes," Cassie hadn't expected business talk here. "You must tell me about your place."

"May I invite you to room 307? I have an exhibition of my paintings in the room. It is also decorated like a little dungeon in a hotel suite. Maybe you want to use it to play?"

Rodrigo Visits her Exhibition

Back in her room, she put on her 'sales garb' which consisted of a transparent latex dress without underwear, exposing her piercings. Now she was ready for Rodrigo.

As she looked up, he was already there, leaning against the doorpost, he had observed her as she had changed. He wore loose slacks, linen shirt - unassumingly elegant.

Obviously, he had seen her naked. Watched, as she covered her body in baby powder and had pulled the dress on, adjusting her breasts in it, twiddling her nipples. Even as she had tugged at her labia, to make them stand out. Standing there, he obviously enjoyed the involuntary show. Taking him in, she thought, 'looks ok, but looks don't matter. I want to sell him my stuff, not buy him. Seen with young men? Let's nothing pass him? Looks like it. Saw all of me. That's ok. Do I want to see more of him? See if he is such a great lover?'

"You are Bella." Not asking, knowing.

"And you are?"

"Who are you expecting?"

"Rodrigo! Why stand at the door? Come in."

She pressed her rubbery body against his linen and was greeted with double kisses.

Neither let go. Time passed. His body warmed the cool latex. The only motion was their breathing that soon was synchronous. She tilted her head, exposing her neck. Looking up into his eyes questioningly. He kissed her neck, then she felt his teeth. They moved up to her ears. She gave a soft purr, then took a step backward taking him with her. He followed in sync her left foot, his right foot. Two more steps, and she reached the bed with her knees.

Why had she put on a dress if all she wanted was to peel it off as soon as possible now? Or have it ripped off. He instead left the dress where it was. The smooth rubber turned her into a plastic doll. He just reached below and pulled it up. He put his hand on her crotch. Nothing else, just claiming it as his. His fingers collected her wetness and she had to lick them off.

Almost involuntarily she fell back to sit on the bed. A subtle change in his posture, some space she was given had directed her.

The loose linen in front of her face made his erection obvious. She looked up at him. His hands moved to her neck. No push, just indicating direction. Pants down, mouth opening, over, in, down. Her tongue in milliseconds checking chemical compatibility. Yesss. Further in, deeper. Using her throat muscles to massage him. Her hands on his buttocks, pulling him in. She dominated herself by pushing down until her eyes watered. His hand around her neck, just steering, keeping her neck warm. No need to push, knowing it was not necessary. Not with this woman. The other hand on the top of her head. A gesture of paternal kindness. She kept massaging him with her throat. Adding a hand to squeeze. She felt him twitch, but he did not come. She let off, asked a question with her eyes.

He smiled, "I decide when I come. And this will be in you."

Done, he let her go, giving her room to fall onto the bed. She shuffled backwards to make room for him. He took his time. Took her in like a smorgasbord. Hungry meat wrapped in shiny rubber. Her honeypot dripping, the chef's kiss. Her hands reached for the metal rail above her head, steadying herself against the impact that she expected to come. It didn't. He slid in slowly and then pumped her excruciatingly slowly. Just before he reached the top, he slowed, never letting her feel the thrust. What she had expected to be a hard rough fuck was smooth and sensual. Moving up, he let his tongue travel across her face. She craned her head for a kiss, but he always kept a centimeter out of her reach. Frustrated, she extended her tongue. She was allowed to lick his lips and then his face like puppies do.

He angled his strokes so that the shaft of his cock massaged her clit, taking her towards an orgasm.

"May I come?" she asked as she was used to.

He looked startled, not understanding where such a question would come from. "Yes, certainly, why not?"

And exactly at the moment when climax washed over her, he let go of his self-control and came into her as well. Now his lips descended onto hers with a tender kiss. His hands pulling hers from the rails into a warm hug.

"May I clean you up?"

"If you wish."

"It is my duty." And while she sucked their juices from his cock, her mind analyzed, 'how can someone so dominant not know that usually subs are not allowed to come until given permission or must clean up?'

He watched her with curiosity, "now I'm ready to look at your paintings."

He pulled on his slacks for minimal modesty, she kept her dress hitched up with cum dripping down her legs.

Holding hands as if they were lovers, they stepped from one image to the next. Between each image stood a BDSM contraption.

"Interesting decoration," he said, "helps to understand your themes."

"You know how to use the decorations?"

"Not really. Too technical for me."

"A pity."

"I am open to trying. But who will be tied and who will do the tying?"

"I'm no good at tying, but good at being tied. You see the picture there?"

A woman was hanging from a crane in the docks, high above a tangle of ships and cold green water. A net of impossibly thin rope held her aloft and fixed in a contorted pose.

"One of the few pictures I painted from reality and not from a vision in my mind. Sunday morning 5 am. Friends. She hung there for 2 hours."

They stepped from painting to painting.

"Which one do you like best?" she asked.

"They are all interesting in their own way, but the BDSM elements are too dominant for my taste. In the painting of the gardener you struck the balance perfectly."

"Unfortunately, it is sold. It was a commission."

"You do commissions?"

"They are extra."

"I have some ideas. Most painters struggle with commissions."

"I don't. Restraint and strictness can be liberating. But,... the convention opens in a few minutes. Shall we head down and continue talking about our project?"

He got dressed, she cleaned herself and pulled the hem of her dress over her buttocks. They took the lift downstairs. Stepping out, they immediately turned left towards the convention area.

The Reception

The ballroom was already crowded. Many wore fetish clothes, similar to Bella. Victoria was there, now a collar around her neck, held on a leash by Cassie. Marlowe brought them all drinks.

Both Victoria and Bella curtseyed as they received theirs, then waited until Marlowe and Rodrigo had taken a sip before drinking themselves.

Marlowe said, "We passed by your exhibition. We'll drop by later. I saw something that piqued my interest. Today you seemed too occupied and quite full." He winked.

Freya Gersemi stepped up and gave a short welcome informing about the agenda and the weather report for the weekend, adding: "The dress code here is very liberal, and the hotel is fine with it. They kindly request us, though, to assume modesty in the general area."

Rodrigo and Bella filled their plates at the buffet and found a table for themselves.

"So tell me about this idea of yours."

"The idea is simple. I have a gallery of my ancestry. It ends with my father, and I want one of me," he said. What he did not tell was that he neither knew his father nor any other ancestor. His gallery was a collection of portraits he had turned into an ancestry, so he could pretend he had one. It had quieted the questions who he was and where he came from. He loved to project a designed, controlled image of himself. Whether he appeared on a red carpet with an actress on his arm or visiting a formal evening with Stella, a young crossdresser, it was always cleverly choreographed. This evening would also produce social-media posts of him and Bella benefiting his image and her business.

"If you want me to paint it, I need complete artistic freedom. If you don't like the result, then you don't have to take the picture."

"What do you charge?"

"It is very simple. I charge by size. 1000 quid per square foot. Commissioned work is double."

"Is art not supposed to be priced by its artistic value?"

"Yeah, in theory, but before the artistic value is recognized the artist has to eat."

"I'm fine with that. But tell me about yourself. You have all this BDSM equipment in your room. Why do you want to be tortured? What happened in your youth? After all you are from a very respectable family of hoteliers. Actually, you have more real heritage than I have."

Bella sighed demonstratively. She cupped her chin with her hand like she was a piece of Rodin's artwork 'The Thinker'.

"Aaargh, this old cliché. You believe everyone in BDSM is a weirdo with an abusive childhood? There was no abuse in my childhood. Not even verbal abuse. Pressure yes, but nothing that explains why I like to be chained and whipped to my bones."

"It's the impression one gets."

"Yeah, because pulpy schlock like 50-shades-of-gray purport that myth. And even Mary Gaitskill is unable to rise above that. It makes me furious."