In a recent email, Heinrich asked why I hadn’t finished posting the events of my going-away party, my last S/M session in New York.
Well, I was depressed and stressed out about my employment situation, and not in much of a mood to write. Also, frankly, I felt a little awkward and self-conscious writing about jennings gags and getting your buddy’s splooge on my face, I wrote.
He wrote back: I think the blowjobs were the least controversial activity of the evening. Not that we did not enjoy them, so thank you for that.
The pleasure’s all mine, I said.
Yes, that is at least somewhat true, for an eager cocksucker like yourself. Your next master should withhold it as punishment, but most men would not have the restraint. Anyway: write it all. I liked to read it.
It might take a few days. It’s partially written already, but I need to finish it, I responded.
The next email contained only a picture of his boots. The subject line had one word: Inspiration.
And it was, and it has.
* * *
I have a lifelong fascination with the male uniform, and none of it attracts me more than footwear and belts. I wouldn’t go so far as to call it a fetish, but it definitely captures my attention.
The psychological appeal is obvious: shoes and belts are used as handy weapons by household tyrants around the world, and the boot is both part of the hunting uniform and a symbol of institutional authority. The men in my family are ex-military and take the appearance of their shoes seriously, and maintaining the shine on my father’s shoes was one of my childhood chores.
|The Policeman’s Daughter, Paula Rego c. 1987|
Getting kicked around on the floor, or groveling at someone’s feet, is humbling in a way I have seldom experienced and have difficulty describing. Let’s just call it what it is: it’s fucking humiliating. There are many activities in BDSM that a person (bottom) can do while assuring themselves–correctly!–that they are not actually being dominated or humiliated. Getting your neck pinned to the floor with a boot is not one of those things. Nope, nosiree. There’s no way that you can experience that and be able to unpack it from its tremendous cultural baggage: since antiquity, if you wanted to humiliate a person, humble them, or publicly demonstrate your superiority, you got them up close and personal with your shoes.