Origins

I have had this fetish for women in boots for as long as I can remember.

I mean that quite literally. I am in my 40's, but I can still remember being pre-kindergarten age and longing, for reasons I could not fathom, to be near women wearing boots. Of course, that was the late 60's, and boots were the fashion, and continued to be through most of the 70's.

I remember the girl next door, my age, whom I used to go behind the bushes with to kiss. She had a couple of pairs of boots. I used to ask her to wear them when she came out to play.

I remember the older girl two doors up. She seemed much older to me then, though she was only about a year older. Her name was Pam. Any day she was wearing her brown suede knee high boots I would followed her around. Once she got annoyed and tied me to a tree in her back yard with a jump rope. She did not have to work hard to do it. I stood quietly as she ordered and positioned myself as she required. Then she told me that if I was quiet, she we let me go, but if made a fuss, she would leave me for somebody else to find. I was quiet.

Another time she came out of the house with a pair of toy handcuffs her brother had. They were not as sturdy as police issue, but they much more real than toy handcuffs you find today. She put them on me, hands behind my back, then told me she did not have the key. She said that she would look for the key, but only if I did what she said. She told me that the only other way out was to cut off my hands. Her brother came out and, when asked, supported her view, it was a choice between keys or hands.

She then led me around the neighborhood for a while, showing the other kids her "prisoner." I was under her word to obey or there would be no key. Then her father called for her. It was time for dinner. She got the key out of her pocket and let me go. I was sorry the game had ended, even though I was really scared at the thought of losing my hands.

Pam moved away very shortly there after. I never saw her again.

We are only up to age 5 at this point and already I have been through bondage, D/S, public display, and some mind games.

In school I used to try to be friends with the girls who wore boots. After kindergarten you get into the stage where boys and girls don't play together. If you are a boy and you play with a girl, the other boys tease you. So I walked a thin line.

In second grade I told a girl named Lisa, who got some shiny black boots for her birthday and was wearing them every day, that I wanted to be her slave, that I would do anything she said. She made a face. She thought that was gross. But she also tested me on it. She had me follow her around, made me do some various little things on the order of "go run to that tree and back right now," and then decided I had to go and pick up a dead bird that was by the fence at the back of the playground. I picked it up, gingerly. She screamed, then ran and told her friends about what I had done.

I heard a lot of little rhymes about how I loved Lisa. While it was true enough in a second grade sense, I also had to keep all my guy friends. I was never that open about my desires in grade school again.

By fifth grade I was fantasizing at night about the girls in my class who wore boots. These generally featured them tying me up and making me beg to be released. In these fantasies, kissing the boots of these girls, or licking them, or otherwise adoring them were standard features.

I particularly remember Wendy and her white boots. In my dreams I would crawl on my belly before her. She would be seated in a throne like chair and would present one white booted foot and command me to lick it like it was the best ice cream I had ever had. If I did not convince her I was enjoying licking her boot, if I failed to thank her or show anything less than enthusiasm for the task, she would be displeased. No grim fate, no torture, just the idea that if I did not please her with my devotion, she might go away.

And then I discovered masturbation. Up until this point all of this fantasy and fetish had been without any overt sexual connotation. Kissing the neighbor girl when she was wearing her boots was as close as it got. But now I thought about girls in boots and as I furiously jerked off. I masturbated so much, I was worried I would run out of sperm.

So boots, submission, mind games, public humiliation, and shameful (in my view at the time) first sexual activity. One wonders what a shrink would have said about me at the time!