i was dizzy. Half of my face was planted and flattened in the dirt. i struggled to spit out grit and grass that i had been force fed to swallow. i coughed and gagged up a bile fermented mixture of soil, blood and phlegm. my right eye now was little more than a slit and the other eye was tearing profusely. i struggled to move my head, but it was locked in place by my tormentress and Her Nike sneaker. She stood above me smirking and smiling as She ground Her rubber sole hard into the caves of my cheeks, while launching kick after painful, powerful kick into the back of my head. She bent down and braced Her elbow on Her thigh to give Her more leverage, this done while continuing to grind the blade like, waffle soles into my face. my badly, swollen eyes could not take it anymore. the distorted engorged swelling above my eye brows were gashed by Her heel and the blood gushed and flooded over my dirty complexion. still seeking sadistic satisfaction, She dipped Her soles into my blood and proceeded to stamp my face all over with the pattern on the bottom of Her Nike’s soles. by the time She was finished, i looked like i had run head on into a bloody waffle iron. little did i know, but years later this experience would lay the foundation for an intense fascination and fetish for women’s sneakers, that now rules over me today.
my Mistress easily recognized this fetish and has used it against me numerous times. She enjoys watching me twitch and squirm when She wears a favorite pair of Her sneakers. many times, She will force me to remove the laces of Her sneakers using only my teeth. She has also jammed and forced Her sneakers into my mouth, exhibiting a sadistic grin of consummation, while i gag and sputter for breath. The firm rubber of Her toecaps cuts like a razor across my delicate gums. while the marks from her rubber soles, digging into the side of my face are akin to deep, blood besmirched gouges.
why do i enjoy this pain and torment, Y/you may ask? for a male submissive there is no place lower or more desirable than being under that of his Mistress’ feet. for many male submissives, a Woman’s authority over him is representative of the stiletto, or the high heeled pump. Of course, the most common symbol is that of the boot. this though, has never been the case for me. i have always been attracted to athletic and fit women. even though, i myself am more comparable to a weak "nerd", "wimp" or "dork", as my Mistress affectionately labels me. on more than one occasion i have found myself beaten or humiliated in either a pick up game, or a physical contest of sorts with a fitter more skilled Female. several times throughout my life i have been thrashed and beaten up for what She considered to be staring, or lewd behavior. these confrontations usually ended with me in a fetal position on the ground, gripping either my groin or bent over in a prone position after having the wind kicked or punched out of me. nine times out of ten these femdomme encounters ended with my victoress’ sneakered feet clamped securely on top of my head. that imagery is branded and seared into my consciousness.
i can’t escape it. the smell, the texture, even the taste brings excruciatingly rousing tendencies to my groin. a woman’s sneaker for me just naturally represents a symbol of her authority and power manifested over me. it also epitomizes how much more physically inferior i am to Her. my Mistress reinforces this dominating, total power exchange, by pinning me down on the ground and locking and squeezing my head between Her powerful thighs while, shoving Her newly removed stinky sneaker and placing it over my nose and mouth, forcing me to breathe Her tincture in deeply. on another occasion, She accidentally spilled water down Her shapely leg and into Her sneaker. She automatically removed it, cocked my head backward and dumped the residue down my throat. it was a humbling, submissive and spiritual experience that i will not soon forget. intense sneaker marks from my Mistress’ treads are something that i crave and long for. as with any submissive, the marks given by a Domme can indicate Her ownership,love and affection. when My Mistress decides to mark me with the imprints of Her sneakers it is painful, yet loving. each pattern, shape, line and contour that bites into my flesh is indicative of the bond and trust that exists between U/us. i particularly like women’s trail running shoes which have deep crevices and a tire tread like contour. the rubber is hard and cuts through the subsequent skin levels with ease. also, the grinding that She is able to do, creates nice scratched and serrated markings that do not easily fade away. Converse also has a wonderful set of marks. The characteristic stars and circles remain imprinted on my face for days on end with the proper application, as do the trademark words.
in addition, the smell and feel of the texure of a woman’s sneaker is nothing short of amazing. this is especially true after She has worn the sneakers all day long and more so if She wore the sneakers during an athletic contest or event She participated in. i served a Mistress one time who would wear Her tennis shoes all day long and never remove them even after the match She had competed in was over. She would save the entire sensory experience for me. Her feet would be so hot and sweaty, that i could barely remove Her sneakers. it was as if the hot tennis surface She was playing on had actually combined with Her hot sweat and created a sticky adhesive. removing Her sneakers was an erotic, powerful, and self-abased experience for me. after loosening the laces and the tongue of the sneaker O/one can smell the sweet intoxicating scent of my Mistresses hot perspiring feet. i can imagine the sweet fumes emanating from deep inside Her soles. popping the sneaker off is a humility inducing experience. it is at this point that i long to dive face first into my Mistresses fragrant, sneakered embrace. sometimes She allows me, but most times i must exercise decorum and restraint. sneaker worship or foot worship is not about meeting my needs, but serving Hers. once in awhile She will ask me to remove Her sweat soaked socks. how i love it so. Her socks are like little sponges, holding and retaining a significant portion of my Mistresses’ essence. Some times She will wad them up and force them into my mouth. She will not permit me to move them until granted permission. sometimes it is a half hour, sometimes one or two. i love tasting the ambrosia of Her feet from wearing the sweaty sneakers.
essentially, the sneaker for me is the adornment or the foot covering of the dominant, fit, athletic Woman. it is the powerful, iconic symbol of the status of Her fitness achieved when used to entice, persuade and subject a male submissive to the brunt of Her physical authority. this formidable symbol of physical prowess and Female adornment is in and of itself quite provocative. cleaning the sneaker is a ritual that lies at the foundation of foot worship. in many circumstances, the Domme will dirty them intentionally and completely to exert Her complete dominance over Her male submissive. i have removed dirt, scum, and food residue off of my Mistresses sneakers. i do so with a willing and kinky heart. i relish and enjoy cleaning the top and sole of my Mistresses’ sneakers. i use my tongue to clean inside and outside the grooves of the serrated rubber. at times She will shove the entire cap of the shoe in my mouth, gagging and choking me. She usually just smirks and laughs with a sinister expression. She also has tied me up, bound me and slapped me incredibly hard with Her Ed Hardy sneakers. So much so that i received a severe bruising, a busted fat lip and a bloodied nose. each time has been a riveting experience, but the foundation of the session has always come back to the worship and respect for Her sneakers and Her feet within them.
the final revealing experience for me and symbolic of the tomboy merging into the complete dominant Woman is when sneaker and socks are finally removed to reveal the long, beautiful, articulated toes of my Mistress. She tempts me with Her beautiful pedicured feet. bits of cotton sock fluff cling to Her salty, sweaty toes. She wiggles them with teasing denial . they seem to almost be separate entities that must be pampered, massaged, groomed and satisfied. i do so with a willing heart bent on serving Her with every ounce of my being. for i long to hear Her say, “you are my very good boy”.
