Fetish

Putting on a new pair of heeled boots for the first time this year brought up a certain feeling, something I am only now fully aware of.

It is the power, the confidence exuded by thwe height of them. They way they make my body hold itself, the curves of my ass and the gentle sway of my hips as I walk in them bringing a certain sentiment of might, of personal strength.

Heeled boots and skinny, curve hugging jeans, a lace top and a biker jacket. The perfect leather smelling ensemble that craves for completion with a flogger in my hands and a devious smile on my lips. It brings up the inner dominant, the strong part that doesn’t crave control, because she has it in her manner, in her every step.

It’s the sensuality of the idea, the power coming from childhood dreams of villains and heroines, of Cat Woman and Elektra.

It’s the pure feminine skill of bringing someone to their knees with only a look, of being admired and untouchable by mortals. Only Gods get to touch her heart in a way considered traditional, romantic, in her submission. Others, mortals just as strong and capable, touch other parts of her, some might say darker, almost forbidden, parts that she doesn’t let loose often, for they are sacred in a complex way for most, yet oh so simple. Parts that bring out care and sadism, the pleasure of dominating, of inflicting pain and pleasure, of accepting the submission of strong, wise men. Parts of whips and ropes handled with grace, of painting with blows of hot skin, on the mind of men that desire rapture.

They bring about delicious, elegant dominance that makes up a side of womanhood rarely seen. It is not vulgar, nor pornographic. It isn’t nakedness or provocative clothes. It isn’t the humiliation of a person on their knees. It is the strength exuded by calm and confidence. It is the dark need of a person to kneel because of the way you are made and carry yourself. It is the balance of forces so intense that they might never be understood by people who never felt them.

All this, and so much more, from a pair of heeled boots on a rainy, cold day.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

Create your website at WordPress.com
Get started
%d bloggers like this: