Stepping

I was in a cage. I was at a New Year's party at the home of kinky friends. It was late and I had already been played with at least once, whipped and spanked. I was in that cozy place I go to afterwards, after the initial buzz and high abates and my brain slows down. Immediately after play, I tend to have a lot of excess energy. I wander around, unable to keep still, until finally, like an overspent toddler I eventually settle somewhere quiet to rest and regroup.

The cage was wooden, built underneath a table where another woman lay above me being flogged and beaten by two other tops, my Sir one of them. He stood behind me, and I lay there on the mat inside the cage, resting and watching the scenes going on around me, content to be nearby my Sir, although not directly interacting with him.

Suddenly, I felt his foot upon me. I've never, in my life, had anyone put their shoe on me in such a position. I melted. Something about that just gets me. Its the possessiveness, the positioning, the fact that it's a foot, that I'm on the ground, that it holds me in place there where I belong and want to be. One moment I'm just lying on the ground, unclaimed, unbidden, inactive. By the mere act of his foot upon me, suddenly I'm owned, held, positioned and actively involved.

That's all it was. It led to nothing after that, although at some point when I was released I know that I moved to the foot again, kissed its boot, and lay my cheek upon it, unwilling to remove myself from contact with my beloved.

I suppose on some level there could be perceived an element of humiliation in this. One is, after all, beneath the foot of someone else, there to be trod upon and touched by the sole which has been god knows what dirty places. There to be a foot rest, no longer a girl, no longer anything other than that which supports his foot, the same way a step might, while his attention is presumably focused elsewhere.

I felt not a scrap of humiliation, though. My adoration and desire for connection and attention from my Sir is so strong, that it overrides that sense of shame I perhaps should have felt. Or maybe that's the secret to humiliation play - that it truly isn't. Because this man could in fact, do nearly anything to me, and my entire being would be open and content in it, simply because it's his bidding. For him I'm willing to be things I otherwise would consider unattractive or unsexy. Things I would consider beneath me in other contexts. The only common denominator being his will for me to do or be that thing.