Living as a sex positive person isn’t an easy task. It requires much work, shedding learned behaviors and thoughts about sexuality that aren’t accepting of all healthy expressions. Yes, I am a liberated woman and I consider myself to be sex positive, but I’m still a work in progress. In light of the mainstream emergence of the BDSM lifestyle—thanks to fiction of Fifty Shades of Grey writer E. L. James—fetishes are no longer such a major taboo.
But in my mind, I still held a strict judgment against foot fetishes and those who proudly expressed them.
It’s often said that experience is the best teacher. So as an effort to eradicate my prejudgments of those who possess a fetish for feet, and as a way to learn how to appreciate the beauty of my own extremities, I signed up to be a mistress of body worship.
For those completely vanilla in their sexual expression, body worship might ring as a new term. But to members of the BDSM lifestyle, admiration and praise of beloved body parts is anything but unfamiliar. In the past, I’ve flirted with the idea of experiencing sexual expressions within the BDSM arena, but I’d never actually attempted to become a dominating mistress. So I recently decided to sign up with a company whose primary focus is supplying hot chicks with beautiful feet to painters, photographers or fetish-harboring men who simply want to gaze upon the objects of their affection.
I waited a few days, and while on a trip to Chicago, I got a call from the owner of the company, who gave me the rundown of how these worship sessions work. After 15 minutes of conversation, he gained my trust, requested for pictures of my feet, and posted my size 10s on his website for his client base and all the world to see.
Taking pictures of my toes and soles was the first step in getting over a phobia of my own feet. But then I had to come to terms with the idea of someone else rubbing, sucking and licking on my feet. The suspense was killing me.
One frigid Chicago evening I received a message from my “agent” with info on a session that needed to be booked with a gentleman who wanted to worship the very feet I couldn’t stand. I starred at the number for a while before responding. All types of thoughts were running through my head, from what the conditions of his home would be to how he would behave. This entire process was new to me, and every bit of my ego was telling me to run away as fast as I could. Still, my mission to become completely sex positive of myself and of others was my motivation for moving forward.
My intuition kicked in as I began to text my appointment, and after a few exchanges, we set up a time and location for the worship session. I called my driver, grabbed some baby wipes and oil, and headed through the night air towards a new experience.
When I reached my destination, I walked through two glass doors and up a short flight of steps to arrive at his apartment. The door creaked, and before entering I peeped through the opening to give the interior a quick glancing over. Everything seemed pretty normal, and actually reminded me of my favorite uncle’s house. I entered feeling less anxious than when I first arrived.
When I introduced myself to the man of the hour, I realized he was no different than the average men I see commuting to and from the office buildings in the Loop weekly. His head was shaved but his skin was olive toned. He was shirtless and sporting pajama pants, which indicated his comfort level with this type of activity. I could tell he’d been through this before. Prior to unleashing my precious cargo to be worshiped, I knew enough to ask him what he was into as far as feet are concerned.
“I love feet and I like being under a woman’s feet,” he admitted. “I want you to dominate me and tell me what to do. I like sucking toes and kissing feet. I don’t know… It just does something for me.”
Nervous as all hell but remaining stoic in my poker face, I removed my flats, sat down in his black, leather reclining chair, and commanded him to get on his knees and clean my feet with baby wipes before we began.
“Yes, mistress,” he replied, and at this response the corner of my mouth curled up. Watching this complete stranger delicately wipe down every inch of my feet made me realize that my insecurities with my own feet were just figments of my imagination. Surly if this man could love on my feet, I could learn to do the same.
After my feet dried, I ordered him to lie down on the floor at my feet and beg to kiss them. He did as I commanded, and after five minutes of begging, I gave him what he wanted. I stood up from the recliner, dangled my feet over his face and placed the ball of my foot over his lips. He began to lick passionately with his eyes closed. And as I shoved my foot into his mouth, I could see his left foot shaking in delight.
For an hour, I controlled his head with my feet, massaged his neck with my toes and smothered his face with my size 10s. After the hour was up, I ordered him to clean off my feet while kneeling, and to massage them before placing my shoes back on. He followed every command perfectly without complaint. Once I was packed up and ready to go, I asked him about his experience.
“This has been one of the best sessions I’ve ever had,” he complimented. “You’re really good at what you do. I was so stressed out at work this week, and this session really helped get my mind in order.”
During the session, I couldn’t help but to look around as he praised my feet. The books on his shelves indicated his level of intelligence, and his abundance of game consoles was a sign of yet another one of his pastimes. After hearing he was a project manager for a large insurance company, the last bit of judgment I held for men who wish to adore feet melted away from my perception. “This man is no different than me,” I thought.
“Well, this was actually my first session,” I told him, and his mouth flew open. Here I was, a sex coach/educator, and a random stranger taught me something about sexuality and about myself within an hour’s time. Not only did I learn how to love on my feet, but I learned that those who enjoy fetishes are no different than me or my next door neighbor.
Fetishes are nothing to be ashamed of, and if more people could learn to accept and embrace this aspect of their partners’ sexual expression, intimacy could be deepened and stronger bonds established. Hey, you never know what you like until you try it. As long as the activity isn’t harmful, everything is free to explore. It’s an important lesson I learned on my limitless journey of sex liberation.
Glamazon Tyomi is a freelance writer, model and sex educator with a deeply rooted passion for spreading the message of sex positivity and encouraging the masses to embrace their sexuality. Her website, www.glamerotica101.com, reaches internationally as a source for advice and information for the sexually active/curious. Follow her on Twitter at @glamazontyomi.