Samir couldn't believe his luck in meeting Roxi. He was a BDSM writer, and he specialized in writing about female domination, chastity, and hardcore punishment...and one night, he was invited to lecture on this topic at Buttermilk State.
Roxi had reddish hair and looked like an insolent barmaid, but she was the graduate assistant to the professor who had asked Samir to talk about his writing.
"I'm a huge fan of your writing. I've been reading your stuff on Bondagewars, the online lit thing for quite some time."
Samir had grinned at Roxy. "Really? You're aroused by the idea of dominating a man, or is it more of an intellectual thing, like reading the writing of Leopold Sacher-Masoch?"
Roxi laughed. "I have dated a lot of freak shows. They are either doormats or dicks, and often I want to be in control, just because men are so predictable. They really need a lot of direction."
"There's that, I guess." Samir had said. "Well, I'm very flattered..." he said this as he kind of backed away, because the class was over, and he had a real job in the morning, indexing bank law books.
"Oh, no, you're not getting away that easily." Roxi smiled and took him by the arm. Her breasts shifted in her little sundress and she tossed her curly hair and giggled a bit.
Roxi looked at Samir, and noticed how his eyes scoped out her boobs, and admired her creamy skin and her big lips...like so many men, even good writers, he probably had never really been in a femdom relationship.
She wondered fervidly whether he would consider taking up with her and "teaching" her how to be a dominant. Roxi had more experience than she was willing to share with Samir at this point.
Then, Roxi had also been, at nineteen, still a high school junior (on the Bong-Hit five or six year plan), she'd also made her spending money in a curious way...
Roxi served as a baby-sitter for her neighbor's kids...and when the kids went to bed, often their dad would ask her to watch a show or two with him before he drove her home.
"We have to be very quiet, Roxanne, because my wife would misunderstand if she wakes up, and she has rage issues."
Somehow, Roxi got the poor bastard to put on a blindfold, and she nuked some leftover meatballs in the microwave and shoved a couple up her ass and a few more up her cunt, and then fed them to Mr. Straubman...
She didn't tell him which was which of course.
Sometimes Roxi would tie Mr. Straubman's hands behind his back and play with his penis until he was bursting with desire, and then she'd be "overcome" with a compulsion to run upstairs and confess all to Mrs. S...
And Mr. Straubman would have to bargain her down with various raises in her babysitting fees...
"It's just so wrong, Mr. Straubman" Roxi would say as her red nails danced on his purple, pulsating cock. "I really should tell Gladys, don't you think? She'd understand."
"She'd take half my net worth, Roxanne, dear...please, untie me and we can talk about this."
"Oh, I don't know if I could, sir. If I untied you, you might ravish me." As Roxi said this, she pulled off the blindfold and flashed her perfect 36 DD breasts at Mr. Straubman. "Imagine you, a senior warden at St. Michaelmas, and you just want to take my virtue..."
Mr. Straubman was so impressed by Roxi's creativity and "inventiveness" coupled with a competing desire to get her out of town that he wrote her a recommendation to his alma mater, Columbia University, the best school in New York City...and finagled her a scholarship!
At Columbia, Roxi had been briefly involved with Glynn, a dweeby but fairly well heeled guy who bought her stuff and wrote her papers.
Glynn had this strange fantasy of kneeling naked on his coffee table (rich dweebs always have their own apartments in college, it seemed) well, naked except for wearing a pair of pink socks.
Then he'd ask Roxi to pull his pud from behind and do it slowly and then quickly, and making him beg her to let him finish.
Sometimes Roxi would tell Glynn that she'd undress for him (she was always clothed) if he wanted to bribe her, maybe pay $20 for every piece of clothing she took off.
Roxi always came to these sessions really heavily clothed. The jacket went ($20) and then the sweater ($20) and then she would jack it up to fifty to remove her bra...
And sometimes he'd pay her, and she'd just stop with the bra and panties anyway and stroke his dick for quite some time, laughing at how his legs quivered as he knelt, ridiculously on the coffee table.
Sometimes he'd pay a little extra, and Roxi would invite a stripper friend of hers, Estrellita, to strip closely while he was watching, and getting jacked from behind...and then the two girls would take turns peeing on poor Glynn...
Roxi could barely read or write, but Glynn hired girls to take her tests, and he wrote her term papers himself, so she finished school with flying colors. Estrellita left being an exotic dancer to marry Glynn, and Roxi wished them well as she went to Buttermilk State University for her Master's.
Although Roxi had scammed her way through college, she didn't test well, so the only Master's program she'd been accepted in was a Women's Studies degree with a concentration on Feminist Perspectives on Male Sexuality.
Roxi felt she was comfortable in this area.
One of the other graduate assistants, Sonia, offered Roxi a room in her house. "I don't think you even have to pay much rent, my husband likes being around cute girls...we have a peculiar relationship though."
Sonia's relationship with Gigger was odd, indeed. Gigger had inherited his grandparent's mansion, and he lived on the lowest floor, and there were about twelve bedrooms in other parts of the house.
Sonia had a lot of cute female friends, and they lived in the bedrooms free of charge, and when they didn't feel like weirdness, they could socialize in a main rec room on the upper floors...
But then, when they were feeling generous, the ladies would descend to Gigger's level. Gigger stayed on that lower level, and wandered around naked. When the girls came downstairs, they often wore diaphanous evening gowns or shorts and halter-tops, or whatever made them feel pretty.
And they could sit and talk, or shoot pool, or watch a wide screen TV, and when they wanted refreshment, liquid or solid, they'd blow a whistle and Gigger would come running, his balls bouncing and cock bobbing.
Gigger made the girls as comfortable as they could be-he had lots of prepared refreshments, and he also was a retired pastry chef, amid the girls' good-natured complaints that he'd get them fat with his amazing pies and truffles.
And Sonia beseeched the women, to use various whips and canes on Gigger if they were feeling tense or annoyed. Most of the gals didn't really feel comfortable doing this, but one or two were particularly combative, and left marks all over the poor perv.
"You'll never see me naked again, Gigs" Sonia said to Gigger once, as he wept after she'd caned him. "None of us, but you'll always be naked, and we'll make fun of your sad little weenie."
Gigger was known as a "remittance man". He was sent money by his rich family to stay in Buttermilk Falls and not return to the compound in St. Louis, and so he had nothing to do but wander around naked in his big house and wait on the hot girls that his wife brought home...
And Roxi wondered if Samir, the BDSM writer she'd met for the class, was much like that? She'd looked at some of his stories and found them oddly compelling.
For Samir's part, he was quite enthused about having dinner with the hot little grad student who ostensibly was interested in female domination and liked his erotica...
Roxi was something else! The long red hair, the big boobs, and she had this sultry look about her-it seemed almost too good to be true that she was fascinated by the curious lifestyle he wrote about.
Most of the women that Samir met who said they were interested in BDSM were really into it for the clothes. And, of course leather fashion was awesome. But to find a cute girl who really liked this? Could she like Samir as well?
Samir didn't have much luck with women in general. He'd sold weed in college to get in women's pants, but his appeal as a kink writer didn't seem to pull in a great deal of romantic activity.
Perhaps he should have learned bass guitar.
But the first time he took Roxi to dinner, she immediately asked him about his characters and the stories he'd written about.
"I just loved it that a guy would be so into his girlfriend that he'd serve and take care of her, and let her punish him when he needed it." Roxi said, toying with her salad fork.
God, look at her, Samir thought. Other men in the restaurant were looking over, probably wondering why she was hanging out with the geeky Arab dude...
"I mean, most men are such take-charge assholes." Roxi continued. "I know they probably do it to mask their insecurity, but they put women down and I loved it that your main character in "Mistress Ionna"-what was his name? Couperin?"
