I encountered His boots once. It was during my Ordeal; and He sat in a chair, ordering me to kneel. Kiss the ground. Kiss His boots. Mean it.
I hadn’t encountered His boots again until our last date night. W/we spent it at home, before dinner, and He had plans.
Keep in mind, I’m not one for boots. I like wearing them; I can appreciate an awesome pair. Boot worship, however, is not exactly something that has ever really turned me on. Being under someone’s boot has never been a desire of mine. Even during Ordeal, I was never kicked nor stepped on. The flip side of this, of course, is that there is no such thing as “off limits” with Sir.
It started on my sternum, over anahata. First came the heavy sensation: a combat-style boot, with a textured sole. It pressed into my chest, with the distinct feeling of Mine. The weight shifted back and forth, ball to heel, pressing harder, easing off. I was taken by surprise.
The same sensation moved to my right cheek, pushing my head to the side and holding there. Just a slight weight, a minor heaviness, careful, careful. A toe nudged my other cheek; I turned my head slowly, hesitantly, to have the same pressure applied to the left.
Back to my sternum. Heavy, pressing down, taking my breath away.
Then the feeling shifted.
The sole of the boot softened, the image against my eyes changed. I could almost feel the foot beneath the material, see leather tracing up His leg. The point of His toe dug into my chest before the heel suddenly slammed into my vulva.
This continued, back and forth, from combat boot to soft leather, once even to a bare foot against my chest. His heel dug into my vulva, although I felt no pain.
You are Mine. I want you; I will do with you what I will. You are Mine.
My knees would come together with the sensations; I felt Him push them apart.
I’m not finished with you.
And so it went, for I’m not sure how long, until He let me pull out the toy I bought for Him. (Terrifying thing, that – pinkish-purple with lots of buttons and bits and HOLY SHIT WHAT IS THAT DOING I DON’T EVEN KNOW GOODNIGHT BRAIN BZZZZZZT.)
I have never wanted to be under anyone’s feet before, to feel boots against my skin.
After a summer full of quiet, it was comforting for Him to reassert so strongly. In my (honestly limited) experience, there is no more visceral a feeling of being owned than literally being beneath someone’s very step.
For Him, I would do it again.