I have been itching to meet Ryder ever since I saw her profile, despite being reluctant to meet anyone during this pandemic. Plus, I felt playing with a limited number of partners would be essential to developing a kinky relationship. Nevertheless, I visited her profile regularly. She was irresistible in her pictures. Attractive features, busty, athletic build, tall, and lovely hair. She was from Rwanda.
Eventually, I gave in to my desires and spontaneously decided to meet her on a Wednesday evening. I had an inkling this was a bad idea. Usually, I have a detailed discussion before meeting anyone. We spoke briefly, a couple of weeks earlier, there was no chemistry.
I left for her location at 6:15 p.m. I felt it was late to meet a stranger in an unfamiliar location. Additionally, it was only a one-hour session. I flouted all my rules to meet her: COVID, new partner, no prior discussions, short session length, and a late meet in an unfamiliar location.
I’d gone against my gut, and now I was only a minute from her residence. She lived in an upscale locality—a pleasant surprise. The stairway to her place was not well lit, and it was narrow. I reached the first floor and lost my way. I felt uneasy at that moment. Suddenly, a voice urged me to enter from my right. I had missed that door in the darkness. She warmly greeted me and took me inside.
She was bustier than in her pictures. She was as tall as me, if not taller. She wore her four inch heels at my request and stood beside me. At seventy-two kilos, she was slightly heavier. This made me look tiny in front of her. It amused her that I got a kick from this.
We sat on her bed and she sensed my nervousness. She told me to lighten up and remarked, “You have a baby face which makes me slightly attractive.” I requested to sit on her lap. She obliged and patted her lap, gesturing me to sit. As I sat, I placed an arm around her shoulder.
It was a comfortable sitting position with her arms around my hips. I could feel her toned legs. She rocked me on her lap effortlessly while she sipped beer in one hand, and we made conversation. She remarked, “This seems to be a popular fetish.” I told her that her steady lap made me feel secure and had a calming effect. This could be my safe abode.
I spoke about my interest in lift and carry. She was willing to give it a shot. I weighed sixty two kilos. I was sceptical of her ability to lift me for two reasons. In an earlier chat, she rejected the idea of lifting me. Secondly, I presumed she might not be particularly strong. I did not want to be very presumptuous, as I had been wrong before.
As she stood beside me, pondering a way to lift, I was curious to know her instinctive carrying position. The easiest would be a front-lift or a piggyback. To my surprise, she went for a cradle lift. This lift required forearm strength. An average person without weight training would struggle to lift their own weight with their forearms.
However, she literally swept me off my feet in one swift motion and cradled me like a child. This got me really excited. She even walked around without any discomfort. She gloated by saying, “It was too easy.” I felt this could be the start of something special. I relaxed and left my fate in her hands.
I almost blushed as I looked in her large eyes. She did not seem to judge me. I have always pictured my lover holding me this way. I wish I could say that loudly without feeling a sense of guilt or embarrassment. For the minute she held me in her arms, it was pure bliss.
We tried a few other lifts before attempting a piggyback. As an easier lift, it gave me the chance to be lifted for an extended period. I put my arms around her neck. My hands took the liberty of resting on her breasts. I wondered if we could share a kiss from this position.
After this, she gave me a hand-job. She gave a hand-job with me seated on her lap, our lips locked the entire time. It was a long and passionate kiss. That moment aptly captured her dominant position. I enjoyed the comforts of her lap as she tried to release me with one hand and gave me the most passionate kiss I have ever had. She pleasured me in three ways simultaneously.
She was comfortable being the ‘giver’. I felt privileged in her company and humbled to see her desire to pleasure me. I wanted to do my best to please her as well.
Later, we tried over the knee spanking and could not find any rhythm. She was conscious about hurting me and kept holding back. After repeated assurance, she increased the intensity of her strokes. She was making good contact as we went along. However, we abruptly decided to try something else. Maybe a good spanking would be due the next time.
She was confused about the next activity. I was unsure myself. I requested her to pin me on the bed with her hands. She did not understand where this was leading. I told her she had to prevent me from breaking her hold. She probably thought it was a silly game but decided to play along.
As I attempted to escape from her claws, I realized it was harder than we both anticipated. I was unable to lift my arms, which she had firmly clenched. After a lot of effort, I raised my head closer to her body. This ‘progress’ was in vain as it provided no means of putting her under any pressure. Rather than a valiant effort, it seemed like a desperate cry for help from a drowning person. I was completely outmatched.
She found my struggle amusing, as she barely put in any effort. She presumed I was being dramatic to appear helpless. However, I clarified I was doing my best to escape. On her cue, I made another attempt, with all my might. I managed to get my hands off the bed, albeit only a few inches, and looked to destabilize her seated position.
Seeing the first signs of trouble, she decided to intervene to regain total control. Within a matter of seconds, I was overpowered, and she moved closer to limit my movements. My entire body except my head was immobilised. Instead of throwing in the towel, I raised my head to indicate my refusal to concede. Periodically, she would push my head back to the bed. I posed no challenge to her and this turned me on. Even two of me would not have stood a chance.
As time passed, I realised I was delaying the inevitable. I was spent. She was in no hurry to end my misery. I suggested that she choke me to complete the last rites. She responded with glee and began choking with her left hand.
This was the beginning of the end. With just one hand, she held me motionless. I was in awe of her power. I was completely at her mercy. She was not using her right hand anymore. She could emasculate me without being fully involved. She regretted not bringing herself beer, snacks, or her phone. Even household chores could have kept her engaged.
Seeing her getting bored, I suggested she could slap me with her idle right hand. A moment later, she slapped me across my face. Although it shook me, I thought the slap was very special. She started raining slaps on me. Finally, she seemed like she was enjoying herself.
For a brief moment, she loosened her grip on my neck, and her right hand slapped me. As my head would recoil, the left hand would take it to its original position for the right hand to smack. In all this, there was also a meek attempt to escape. A bystander would probably commend me on my refusal to concede. However, I was oblivious that she was generous enough to allow me a false sense of pride by making a non-attempt appear like a failed attempt.
The sequence of actions was like a perfectly synchronised orchestra at work. I was technically an important piece of the symphony but in reality, just a mute spectator. The audience would pay to see the ‘maestro’ at work. I was just a fortunate guinea pig to be slapped by Ryder.
She decided to continue toying with me by teasing me. She got her lips in close proximity to my face. After a few denials, we shared a passionate kiss. She pulled away to slap me harder. I was getting agitated with not being able to kiss her. She laughed at my attempts. Each kiss was followed by harder slaps until I could no longer take her onslaught. I was a good distance from her hardest slap. She later mentioned that I had only reached Level 5 of 10 in terms of intensity.
I did not keep count, but she slapped me maybe twenty times.
Her slaps expressed her disappointment at my effort. I felt she silently wanted me to break away but was amused at my helplessness. I was not ashamed of my efforts. I had put in my best efforts, just that I was pitted against ‘Wonder Woman’.
To end the session, she placed me on her comforting lap. She checked if I was okay, after the slapping session. She was concerned about my well-being and asked me to recount any moments that stood out to help me regain my composure.
I paused for a while to recollect my thoughts and said:
“I have had a long-standing fascination with face slapping. Despite having explored kinky activities with a few partners earlier, I could not go through with a slapping session. Being slapped is a very humiliating experience, and more so from a woman and/or lover. I just could not bring myself to be slapped by any person.
Being attached or awed by someone made be more reluctant. However, I felt comfortable in your presence. The fact that you overpowered me, made it easier to accept being slapped. I was glad to finally know that I enjoyed being slapped.
My face wanted you to slap it. My entire body took it as a meditative experience. You are gifted at slapping. Without any effort, you made the right contact at the right spot with the right intensity. Even the lighter slaps were artfully executed. The skill and precision remained impeccable even as the intensity increased.
This beating was so erotic because it was organic. You started from an advantageous position but kept me pinned for the next fifteen mins. I could not even move you. I enjoyed my utter helplessness. Technically, I was slapped with my consent. However, I was powerless to stop you from slapping me.
I took maybe twenty slaps when you felt I reached my limit. I knew you were having a good time. I wished to take more beatings for you. You could have hit me a hundred times or till I knocked out. However, you chose to let me go. I felt like a little lamb being spared by a tigress. I was just your plaything.
I have been told I will give my power only to a woman who can physically take it. It took us twenty-nine years to meet, and I want to completely surrender to a woman of your stature. Under your supervision, you could mould me as you deem fit. Hopefully, this is the start of a wonderful connection.”
Ryder was taken back by the praise and said:” You are not completely normal now. Let us take it slowly. I liked meeting you and slapping you was joyful. The next time, I will not be so kind. Your body was more excited from being slapped than when I gave a hand-job. So, even your body agreed with my wishes.
I want you to become stronger. We will work out a diet and exercise plan. Ideally, the beating should stop only if I am satisfied and not because you cannot take it. I know it will take time to get there.
In future, when we have intercourse, I would expect the same submission. Sex would complement our intense sessions. As I understand, you are short of meaningful sexual experiences. I will help you find your sexual identity by going outside your comfort zone. For that, I will own every bit of your body.
I want to ‘fuck’ you against your will. I can totally picture that. Docile and helpless, you will be afraid to even resist. If you resist, I will beat you and then fuck you in the ass. The smart option would be to let me do as I pleased, without resisting. It is hard to tell what is more erotic: the thrill of a beatdown, or to get in your head so much that you would not even resist.
There is so much to explore. No need to worry; you are in safe ‘hands’. “
As a befitting goodbye, she gave me a tour of her flat on piggyback. Her roommate was confused to see us and asked her something in their native language. Ryder took me around her flat and showed me their kitchen. She then headed to the entrance. Sensing I was not done, she took me for another round. She exchanged another look with her bemused roommate. We had reached the entrance again and I knew it was time to leave. She safely ‘dropped’ me off near my footwear.
I felt fortunate to have met Ryder, and I could not wait to meet her next.
I got a chance to chat with her the following day. I wrote an account of our encounter and while writing it, realized how well our session went. I shared it with her, and she really enjoyed the prose-like quality of my writing. It felt like an excerpt from a novel.
She added that she enjoyed slapping the most. She could not believe how easy it was to beat me. She had actually been prepared to stop if I surrendered. As I kept struggling, she decided to show me no mercy.
