bootman98125

Now living in Ashland, Oregon.

THE NIGHT I MET BRIAN, part 1

Towering over most people at 6'8" (in boots), he was hard to miss. Every time I looked at him, he was already staring at me. Due to circumstances at the time that I'd rather not get into, we'd nod an acknowledgement to one another, but never spoke. Tall, skinny, a bit on the younger side, he bordered on awkward, yet simultaneously confident.

Our first real conversation happened online, on a BDSM board called Recon. I didn't realize I was chatting with him at first, though the height in his description made me wonder. He was polite when he contacted me. He used complete sentences and asked thoughtful questions. Once we traded photos, we both had a kind of "wow, it's you" moment.

Then the conversation turned to what we were there for. Are you interested in doing a scene? What kind of scene? He told me he'd already had fantasies about tying me up and making me worship his (size 14!) boots. He certainly knew how to talk to me and keep my attention. He'd observed me several times observing his boots, a very astute observation for a 25yo. (Even moreso for someone his real age.) We discussed what we wanted in a scene, what we didn't want, as well as sexual fantasies, past experiences, things we'd like to try eventually, etc.

We agreed on a scene that would involve bondage, humiliation and boot worship, but not sex. Although we were not averse to sex (and were very much sexually attracted to one another), we agreed that focusing on our mutual interests in S&M would be more than enough to satisfy us both. After some discussion and negotiation, I was ordered to show up at a designated address (later in the week, following more nodding and flirting and anticipation), wearing head to toe leather. Once admitted inside, I was to kneel submissively before him and let him take it from there. As when I saw him before, he was dressed in military fatigues and combat boots, which I would come to learn was his everyday look.

He started off by admonishing me for being late. I wasn't late, but I also wasn't inclined to start off the scene arguing with him. He reached down and with a single finger, pulled the collar of my leather shirt away from my body, not-so-subtly surveying what would be his for the next few hours. He asked me a few innocuous questions while cuffing my hands behind my back. He made the cuffs tight enough to be unforgiving, but not so tight as to lose circulation. He picked up my backpack and asked if I'd brought everything we'd discussed. He dumped the contents on the floor and picked up the leather slave collar he told me to bring. He held it up to my neck and said, "I like it." He made the collar as tight as the cuffs, but not so tight that I couldn't breathe. He definitely knew what he was doing.

Next came the blindfold, something we hadn't discussed. After a momentary freak-out, I decided not to protest. Aside from being against the rules, I really wanted to see (ha ha) where this was heading. He had given me a vague idea of what was in store, but left the details to my imagination. I'd entered his house through the back door, which was closer to the basement. Bound and blindfolded, I was led carefully down the 4 stairs to the awaiting basement where I'd spend the next few hours under his control. He sat me in a chair and proceeded to bind me, fully leathered, in layers of rope. Rope around my chest, around my legs just above the knees, rope around my ankles. Tight, restrictive and unforgiving. He knew how to tie a good knot, later revealing that he honed this skill during his time as a boy scout. ("Yes, I did learn something useful in the scouts!")

What he did next was unnerving. He pulled up a chair and sat right in front of me, staring in silence. For the longest time, I could feel his eyes burning into me, but he said nothing. What was he doing? What was he thinking? Now that he had me all tied up and helpless, was he reconsidering? Time seemed to stretch on forever. Just how long had we been sitting there? I couldn't stand it, and finally spoke up.

"Sir?"

"SPEAK!"

"Sir? What can I do to please you, Sir?"

"YOU CAN SIT THERE AND SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

Now, I've known since birth that I'm different. But I cannot describe how turned-on I was by being told so forcefully to shut up. I briefly considered apologizing for my transgression, but that wouldn't have been shutting the fuck up, now, would it?

He continued to stare at me silently, then abruptly stood up and said, "I am very disappointed with what rung my doorbell. I'm going to let you sit here and think about that." I could hear him walk slowly up the stairs, turn off the basement light and slam the door shut, leaving me, leathered and bound and blindfolded, alone in the darkness.

Left alone for what seemed like an hour (it was actually 20 minutes), my imagination ran wild. I could hear him walking back and forth upstairs, possibly to taunt me? At one point, I started to wonder if he'd forgotten about me. But then I could hear the distinctive sound of his boots hitting each step as he re-entered the basement. Each step made me hornier with anticipation than the last.

"Miss me?" he asked as he rubbed my leather-clad crotch, running his strong hands firmly up my chest, and then through my hair. He asked me a personal question, which I attempted to evade, until he grabbed my hair and jerked my head back. "Michael, when I ask you a question, you answer it, promptly and honestly. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir!"

Surprised to learn that despite all the rope, I wasn't actually tied to the chair, he lifted me out of the chair and gently set me face down, still blindfolded, on the concrete floor. After a brief pause, he ordered me to lick his boots. My cock lurched in my leather pants at the command, but no sooner than I laid my tongue on his boot, he pulled it away and walked to the other side of the room. "I'm over here, Michael," he taunted. Still fully-leathered and tightly-bound, I started to wriggle my body across the hard, unforgiving concrete floor, thankful for my leather padding, toward the sound of his voice. Moving was laborious and exhausting, but I eventually arrived at this awaiting boot. He moved a second time. I hesitated. "MY BOOTS AREN'T GOING TO LICK THEMSELVES, MICHAEL!" Right. So, I once again wriggled across the concrete floor in the general direction of his voice.

He didn't move when I arrived at his boot for the third time. Humiliated and horny, I ran my tongue along his size 14 with greedy hunger, coating it in a thin layer of my saliva, only able to imagine the shine I hoped it left behind. I switched boots when he commanded, and having coated the foot portion in my saliva, was running my tongue up the boot shaft when I noticed that he'd started breathing heavily. Was he jacking off?  Had he abandoned our "no sex" agreement? As if reading my mind, he said in a clipped and mildly breathless manner, "I want to fuck you."

"OK," I responded.

"Do you want me to fuck you, Michael?"

"Yes. Yes, I do." I could feel my precum slickening the thong I wore under my leather pants.

He pressed his size 14 between my shoulder blades. "You mean, 'Yes, Sir, I do.'"

"Yes, Sir, I do." I was about to fucking burst!

"I need you to say, 'Yes, Sir, I want you to fuck me.'"

I knew he was asking for consent. Although I would've enjoyed it either way, I was relieved that he asked for consent. This meant that he was not a psychopath.

"Yes, Sir, I want you to fuck me." Things hadn't gone exactly as planned, but flexibility is a crucial life skill.

continued

THE NIGHT I MET BRIAN, part 2

He hesitated. I wasn't sure why. Then he said, "But not here. Not on this concrete floor. Not like this. We can't do it upstairs either because this is a friend's house."

I caught on quickly. "We could go to my place."

He never did fuck me that night. His cock was too big for me to take (at that time), so I played with his cock and the rest of his body, and then fucked him. The rest of the night ended up being pretty vanilla, but I had no complaints. He revealed at that time that he was actually 20, not 25, as stated in his profile. When men lie about their ages, it's usually to make themselves younger, so I had to ask why he'd made his age older. "Would you take a 20yo Dom seriously?" I had to admit, maybe not. Even the one lie he'd told was thoughtful.

Brian also turned out to be much more of a sweetheart than his Dom persona. None of the head games or verbal abuse that he'd previously engaged in. We fell asleep in each other's arms in my bed, later joined by my Standard Schnauzer, who adored Brian (a good sign). I woke before Brian and extracted myself to do normal everyday things, like load the dishwasher. Brian awoke with first a start, not realizing initially where he was, then what he described as contentment and a bit of surprise that I hadn't kicked him out after we were done having sex, as he'd so sadly grown used to.

Brian and I became romantically involved for 2 years after that. It was fun taking him out on his 21st birthday to all the Seattle bars and clubs that he ultimately found "underwhelming." I had discussed several times with him how our relationship, with its 35-year age difference, couldn't last forever, but we enjoyed each other's company immensely. I even met his parents, which I feared would be awkward, considering I was older than his mother, but they were great, mostly just thankful that Brian was with someone who treated him so well.

As our 2-year relationship began to taper off, we transitioned from a conventional romantic role back to kink, and the kink was (and continues to be) much better this time around, considering that we now knew each other intimately, had spent 2 years building trust, and I could now not only take his gargantuan cock (I worried he'd pass out whenever he got an erection because all the blood would go rushing out of his skinny body into his disproportionate penis), but could take it rough. I relocated to Southern Oregon last year, but Brian and I still get together for fun and kink and friendship. The man who ends up as his life partner is going to be a very lucky man indeed. As lucky as I've been for having Brian in my life.

I just read yet another featuring another diatribe about fakes and flakes and time-wasters. Frankly, I've had more time wasted reading all the whining than I've had wasted by "time-wasters." Just a thought.

I love when people try to convince me my opinion isn't my opinion, and then become less responsive when they don't hear what they want. You know who you are.

I met a Dom on Fet Life who has been keeping me in line the last few weeks. He is not a nice person. I don't really like Him, but as a Dom and potential Master, He is exactly what I need. I've been processing this phenomenon, putting much thought into why I respond to Him so well as a Dom, even though I wouldn't choose to spend time with Him otherwise (and I'm sure it's mutual).

I cannot count the number of Doms, Masters, Gods, Slave Owners, etc. that I've met both online and in person who seem unwilling or incapable of issuing an order or command. I tend to follow orders. If I don't receive any, I assume the Dom is uninterested and I move on. Aftter all, it is my job to follow orders, not to issue them. The Man that I am currently serving does not have this problem. I obey all His orders without question, even those I don't want to. It's not my job to choose which orders to follow.

If you identify as a slave and you're having trouble attracting potential Masters, maybe you should take a look at your profile and count how many times "me" or "I" appear in your text. Then skim your profile for anything that would tell a potential Master what you could do for Him. Learn much?

I just saw another one of those "I'm not a pussy" pictures. You know the ones with the muscleman kneeling and a diatribe printed over the photo that begins, "Just because I'm submissive doesn't mean..." If these people had any experience at all, they'd already know that BDSM is not for pussies and wouldn't need to declare that they are not a pussy.

What qualities do I look for in a potential Master/Dom/Top?

Strict
Possessive
Domineering
Abusive
Intimidating

Men who are cheating on their wives sure don't like it when you suggest that she's probably cheating too.

I was up in the Seattle area recently, and although Seattle has many more opportunities to engage in kink, being there once again gave me a newfound appreciation for Ashland (where I currently reside, not the coast as noted in my profile). I mean, most of the gay and bi-sexual men in the area are married to women and refer to themselves as "heteroflexible," even though they engage in actual sex with men, but that's their closet, not mine. Nor do I have to submit to being their, as Blondie puts it, "Sugar on the Side."

Now I'm getting these suspicious chat requests that want to take me to something called Discord. If you want to chat with me, try sending me a message here. P.S. I don't respond to single word messages, so please have something to say if you want to chat. Thanks!

I got a taste recently of the frustration Doms must feel on a daily basis. I started chatting with another sub/slave type and the chat brought out my rare dominant side. As I began describing what I used to like to do to subs when I was more of a dom myself, this guy immediately started whining that he wouldn't like that. As the conversation went on, he continued to whine that we wouldn't be into this or even interested in trying that.

You're not a sub, honey. You're a pud-whacker.

So, now that a certain person, who used to live within 20 miles of me, has moved clear across country, he's suddenly showing interest in me.

NEXT!!!!!!

LMAO at the profile with the 20yo picture and headline that says, "Things change." Uh, your pictures doesn't, dude.

Now living in Ashland, Oregon.

Hi. If you're sending me a message from a "Profile Not Found" account, don't expect a response from me, especially if you're demanding a picture.

I love men who say, "I thought about you when I put my boots on today."

Visiting southern Oregon through the end of April. Available for men requiring boot service.

Message received from straight male dominant:

"I wear size 18 boots. Very dirty with steel toes. There is a lot to lick."

This guy knows how to get my attention!

10/21/2023

masterforyou85 is the perfect example of what I'm looking for. His profile is old and inactive, but His words are powerful and express exactly the type of relationship I am looking for as a faggot slave. Read His words. Then read them again.

10/5/2023

About 20 years ago, I brought someone home to experiment with me. I remember laying on my bed while he repeatedly punched me in the chest. He didn't hold back, each more painful than the previous, wanting to both beg him to stop and beg him for another. I was sore for about a week following. I carried the pain He inflicted with me for that time.

I never forget the Men who inflict pain.