Never Play a Spider.

[flyinemo]

Never Play a Spider.
April in New York has never been confused with the summer, nonetheless, this morning's chill felt quite wicked. Upon wakening, the windows frost coupled with my blaring furnace would give the resident house mouse the illusion that it was still January and that the warmth of May was still eons away. Minted tea was consuming my mind, if only immediately available, I pondered room service for what couldn't be more than twenty seconds and then made the call. "Will you be having any breakfast this morning, Maim?" The voice on the line had a distinctly southern accent to it, temporarily confusing me as to my location, this was New York, not Atlanta, right? Two eggs over medium, just soft enough to allow for a drizzle of yolk for my toast, bacon would have been divine but I mustn't splurge, the body becomes weak when constantly submitting to ones desires. A hot shower, breakfast and tea now in my past I took to Madison avenue for a bit of shopping, spring would be hear shortly as would summer but I couldn't resist these boots, resembling something a fox huntress might have worn in an earlier, more refined year, black, cold and sturdy with a hint of elegance, for two-hundred dollars I couldn't resist. Having a couple of hours before my first and hopefully last session of my trip I decided on a quick workout, the tea started my engine, kickboxing at my pen pal Laura's gym would keep it running.
Laura was quite the sight, blonde and athletic but more perky than my held back self. "Hey Venom!", "What's in the bag?". I showed her my divulgence in luxury. We chatted for a bit, her boyfriend and her youngest sisters soon to be wedding dominated the conversation. Happy for her but eager to begin training I politely ceased our formalities and took to a hanging heavy bag. My thighs had certainly grown more muscular in the past year, while so many contemporary women obsessed over slimming down, even down to skin and bone, I gleamed excitedly over my newly acquired strength, any empowerment, even physical, for a woman still living in a male dominated society brought waves of pleasure to my very being. At about 168 cm and 65 kg I still wished to add another 3 kg of muscle. In due time I thought, nothing must be rushed, patience and dedication will achieve your goals. With the heavy bag successfully pummeled I wished adieu to Laura and made my way uptown, the gentleman I would be meeting lived near Union Square Park, thirty minutes would be more than enough time for punctuality.
Surprisingly enough I had arrived earlier than the idiot stranger who would be paying me to hurt him. The studio he had rented was acceptable, though a sweet smell of old sweat seemed to permeate off the walls. The clerk at the front desk must have seen thousands of different people come through here, barely lifting his gaze from a local newspaper he invited me to have a seat, how polite I thought, certainly this man should be up for a Nobel. Minutes turned into a full hour, no text or email I decided I'd give the poor sap who had arranged to meet another five minutes, I had already made two thousand dollars so if this last session happened to be cancelled it wouldn't be the end of the world. While reading a Guardian article on my phone I noticed the door creek, the site that greeted my eyes couldn't be described as any less than ugly. "Uhh, hi, Venom?" "Sorry I'm late, somehow managed to miss my train and then get off at the wrong stop, haha, surely you don't mind." What a bumbling moron, who would not only miss a train but get off at the wrong stop and make me sit here for over an hour. I reassured him it was fine and that I would not be charging extra. The gall of this leech, "Well, not to be pushy but there's no way I'd pay you for the extra, time, no matter anyways, right?". Right, I gestured with my head, refusing to acknowledge him with even a sound let alone language.
As we entered our room I studied Mike as he undressed into shorts and became shirtless. Running my eyes vertically across his body I couldn't help but want to puke, how could this thing call himself a man? He couldn't be more than one or two centimeters taller than me and most definitely weighed less, I'd guess maybe 57 kg, if not less. His ribcage protruded above his stomach giving off the impression of a sickly sort of creature. Unfortunately, Mikes face didn't do him any favors either, his elongated nose kept conjuring the image of Pinocchio which made me smirk, finally Mike was giving me some pleasure, even if it was at his own expense. Prematurely balding in his mid 20's Mike was in every sense of the word a disgrace, to society and the male sex. It abruptly made sense to me, even going so far as feeling just and right that this pathetic soul would have to pay women to beat him up, being the only way a woman would touch him, save for his mum. "So wanna grab a drink or bite to eat after?" He asked with a moronic grin on his face, even going so far as to wink! Was he serious? Perhaps slightly mentally retarded, more likely living in a delusional dream world like so many other pigs in his gender. I should charge him more for that question. No, no, let's get this over with, no more small talk, stop thinking and the hour will go faster. Our session began rather well enough, Mike has signed a consent form that allowed me to kick and punch as hard as I liked, his face was the only thing off limits, as if a blast to his face would have made him look worse, it might have actually improved his appearance. I moved in on Mike, carefully studying his movements, I knew in advance I wouldn't have to worry about self-defense. He was in a crouched position, resembling a wrestler, sorry pal, but if you think balance is going to keep you on your feel you're a fool, I thought. When I sensed an opening I threw to quick, hard punched to his chest, "Ouch!", he yelled, "No hitting near my heart! Are you stupid? You could really hurt someone like that!". Did this idiot not understand what he was in fact paying for? Calling me stupid enraged me, I doubt this moron graduated high school let alone university. I wasn't even hitting near full strength, no more than 30% I figured. "Fine." I replied, "Just shut up and keep moving". As Mike regained his wits and approached me I decided to quit playing around, I rushed him, lifting him from his hips, leveraging all of my weight and slammed him to the mat. The throw must have knocked all the air out of his lungs as he would have certainly whined if not. While down I dropped full weight onto his chest, it wasn't necessary to crook his arms between calf and thigh as he wasn't strong enough to lift my shins off of him. One, two, three, four. I repeated this combination as I pounded his face with blows. The MMA gloves I was wearing would supply some forgiveness to his face but not much. After three combinations I could see a trickle of blood appear from his left nostril. I held up, staying on top of him, making sure I had as much weight as possible bearing down onto his chest. As I rested atop of him he began to regain his wits, I briefly glanced at the clock, nice, forty minutes had passed, the time really was, in all respects, flying. "Time out, time out." These words sputtered out of Mikes mouth. "Why, what do you want?" "Bathroom, I have to pee, sorry, just let me use the bathroom a minute." I relented, the predatorily instinct in me was reluctant to dismount him, I slowly got up, visibly upset. "Just be quick about it!" I roared "I'm still charging you for this break". "Ya sure, whatever.", he replied and exited the room. Sitting Indian style I remembered what an old Japanese Sensei taught me many years back. It was a meditative breathing technique supposedly trusted by many past Japanese elders for its instantaneous rejuvenating qualities, just having to talk to this twat had put me in a bad mood so a reversal of my train of thought was much warranted. The breathing technique did the trick, too well in fact, I had suddenly lost track of time and soon realized Mike had been gone 20 minutes. I made my way to the clerk to check if he had seen him. Like before, the clerk could care less about my predicament as he probably did many patrons over the years. "He left." was all he could mutter. "What do you mean he left?". " I mean, he left, hunny", he replied with a condescending, sexist tone. "Did he say anything?", "Did he happen to mention where he was going?". "Nope.", the man replied, eyes glued to the same newspaper as before. "Fuck!" I blurted out, "Thanks for nothing." I growled at the man. "Take a hike hunny, I have a wife at home, I don't gotta hear shit from you". It dawned on me that continuing this conversation was futile, and, at worse, detrimental to my health. I made my way to the stairwell and felt a sudden, relentless urge to get as far away as possible from this slum of a studio.
The cool, crisp air of the night refreshed my senses as I walked the sidewalk. I loved the smell of the city, firewood was burning not far from my current location, with the warming of spring that pleasant aroma would soon abate I thought to myself, best to take it in while it lasts. Being my last night in New York I hadn't the slightest inkling of what to do, early sleep seemed in the cards. Just as I was about to hail a cab I felt a vibration in my bag, it was Laura, "Drinks before you leave?!", not one to be fond of hangovers, especially 3000 km above the earth I was a bit hesitant. Still angered over the day's events I muttered "Fuck it." to myself and made a mental reservation to indulge my senses with a dark English stout, perhaps even two or eight. The bar Laura had arranged meeting at was in walking distance, perhaps my luck was coming around.
Life can be funny sometimes, we easily forget how the slightest most mundane changes can alter outcomes, the course of events, even the shape of time itself. I remember back as a young school girl, one of my science teachers, I forget his name now. He explained to us that if we were able to go back into time, how if we accidently squashed a bug the future would or could be drastically changed. The smallest permeations can make the biggest changes. How we forget. If the local street musician hadn't stopped playing his guitar I swear I wouldn't have heard the voice. But, as luck had it, the guitarist laid down his instrument at the precise, necessary moment. It was Mike, casually strolling down an alley which lead to parking garage. He hadn't noticed me, busy chatting away on his phone, like the absent minded gazelle drinking at the bank of a river while a hungry lioness approaches from the rear. I stalked his position for a moment, then made my way, following him. The lighting in the alley was dim to say the least, the bulbs had not been replaced in years. I briefly looked over my shoulder, checking if anyone followed me, nothing, an eerie silence fell onto this alley, this corridor of impending doom. I was now three or four paces behind him, he heard me, his turning face was met with the hardest kick I had ever summoned from my body, my new elegant riding boot made a direct landing. Mike's body immediately fell limp, I wondered if I had done permanent damage as his head met the pavement. I can see he was still breathing, erratically, body twitching ever so slightly. I placed the right sole of my riding boot onto his head, full weight, pondering what to do next. This creep, this leech, ugly and frail beyond question and now a thief too boot, denying me what's rightfully mine, payment for an act he asked for. I pulled out his wallet, nothing, cashless, no identification, just one card, apparently he was living in a shelter, 320 Bleaker st. Would anyone know he was missing, the better question was would anyone care. As Mike came around, delirious, still unable to speak I dropped down onto his throat full weight. His face was priceless as if an atomic bomb has just dropped on a single persons head. From my position I encased his neck in my thighs, my favorite move, a mounted triangle. I found myself increasing the pressure around his neck. I couldn't help but be fascinated seeing my powerful legs literally devastate this scrawny twats neck. My legs were so much larger than his neck in comparison that I could literally no longer see his neck, better yet I could barely feel it, I must have compressed it to the width of a single finger. Mikes face was turning a curious shade of purple, I had applied this choke countless times but had never seen a color so pronounced. His eyes bulged, almost in the appearance of a cartoon, unfortunately for Mike, this was no cartoon, simply reality, his predicament. I was the dominant animal, he was the helpless prey being broken to oblivion. As I squeezed, nearing 80% power, I thought of all the women persecuted in our planets history, the rape, the abuse, the simple lack of respect. Did this runt have similar thoughts? Was he ashamed to be being literally crushed alive by a woman? A powerful woman, a beautiful yet strong intellectual. He was truly beneath me, figuratively and now literally. I closed my eyes, carefully controlled by breathing and applied full strength to my choke. The gurgled and pained groan emitting from Mikes mouth suddenly became muted, the eerie silence of the alley returned. I waited two minutes, keeping my choke at maximum strength, refusing to look down at him, making him leave this planet truly alone. Finally easing up I gazed upon his face, what a mess, he was ugly before but this was something else. I stayed mounted, keeping the choke, but nowhere near maximum strength. I reveled in my dominance, my position on top of him. I felt a pleasure never before experienced. Could I cum like this? I figured it was possible. Completely dismounting him I made sure to drag the inert form beneath me behind some garbage bags. I never looked back, never gave what had happened a second thought. My mind raced, Laura, she's still waiting for me. A smile came across my face as I left that alley, a sense of pride forever instilled in my bones. New York in April, a bitch for some, a vacation for others.

The above story was inspired by a femwin event I attended in nyc 2 Octobers ago.