Booted

He crawled closer, closed his eyes for a brief moment, inhaling the sharp, heavy aroma of premium calfskin. Reverently his lips pressed against the polished, stiff leather near the ankle of the right Dehner boot, leaving a faint, warm mark of condensation on the high-gloss shine. With a combination of reverence, obedience and desire he reached out and began to polish those boots starting at the very top right where the tight breeches met the dark, heavy rim of the boot shafts. And with practiced care he gently massaged the leather bring out a rich shine. It was a act of surrender that he had performed often, sometimes daily before he left the office. It was a practiced ritual looking from a distance, crawling close and finally touching those tall boots. The scent and touch were hypnotic, sensual. Knowing he was being ignored and objectified increased his complete surrender. For him those boots spoke to him, he believed that with every stroke of his hand, every touch of his tongue they let out a deep, satisfying groan. When he kissed the toe of a boot he felt as though it was kissing him back. He fed his addiction with the drug of his choice .. my boots. Crumpled suit, trod on loafers and worn socks were the stage where he performed his supplication, his penance for having revealed his fetish and every time he did that he swore to himself never again … but like a true addict he was lying to himself knowing that he biggest fear was it would not happen again. Task completed he crawled away. I never told him too, he chose that final act himself.

Continued later.

No those boots are not going to clean themselves.

My posts are personal reflections. They are not sexual, though they may be sensual to like-minded men. They are written for gay / bisexual or men who are curious about, exploring or are already enjoying their own fetishes, interests, and desires. They are not about BDSM or S&M, nor are they intended to judge or define anyone else’s preferences. My postings reflect my own interests and what I find sensual—especially the boots I collect, enjoy wearing, and appreciate seeing on other men.

Know your place … choose your place, it’s your decision to make.

Custom Dehner boots! Image inspiration English equestrian art.

Garden chronicles- Weston Gendarmerie boots! There is something erotic, something mysterious about being the second owner and wondering what experiences the original officer may have had in these boots.

Garden chronicles - Dehner boots

As he shined those boots, he periodically leaned over and inhaled the deep, masculine scent radiating from the shining boots I was wearing. The intense aroma of the premium leather and warm wax seemed to overwhelm his senses, driving his fervor to a completely uncontrolled level. The sensory overload made him move from simply shining his boots to frantically licking them, then to passionately kissing and hugging them tightly against his body. The visual symmetry of the moment was flawless—my feet encased in his pristine leather, while he held my custom Dehners captive in a desperate embrace until I had him pull those boots off so that I could go shower but when I came back into the dim locker room,he was still there in his place of complete surrender, was kneeling on the hard floor in his uniform, wearing his own tall boots. His head was bowed deeply, and his arms were slid far inside the warm, stiff shafts of my custom Dehner boots. “I kept your boots warm, Sir," he murmured, his voice steady but entirely submissive. And that is how it began ……

I knew he was going to be my new bootboy, but I wanted him to make that decision for himself. True discipline cannot be entirely forced; it must be chosen with absolute, unwavering fervour so slowly began to shift my weight, starting to move my boot off his shoulder as if the session were concluded. The reaction was instantaneous. Panic flared in the recruit’s eyes, and his rigid military posture broke into a desperate, frantic scramble to maintain the connection. He leaned his head forward, pressing a deep, reverent kiss directly into the high-gloss leather. “Please, Sir,” he pleaded, “Let me show you how much I love those boots” and so I stood perfectly still, looking down at the shirtless recruit held captive by his own devotion. The heavy, masculine scent of the Dehners, warmed by my leg and the friction of his frantic polishing, completely filled the narrow space between us. He had crossed the line from a simple trainee to a personal servant, willingly binding himself to the absolute authority of my footwear. I gave a slow, cold nod of approval, letting him know his new life under my boots had officially begun.

The brief, deliberate pressure of the hard leather toe against his skin made him freeze instantly. His inhalations became shallow and rapid, his body locking into absolute rigidity under the weight of my boot resting on his shoulder. He didn't pull away; instead, his shoulder pressed upward slightly, leaning into the contact, completely surrendering to his long hidden and as yet unfulfilled craving to experience the taste of boot leather.

The recruit didn't look up. He kept his eyes strictly focused on the high-gloss shine of the Dehner boots, his breathing shallow as he pressed the cloth harder against the leather, completely surrendering the dominant discipline I knew he craved.

Cell mates? Interested?

I’ll thank you for your service …. later but for now … serve?

Ready and waiting for … ?

What’s in your garden? Yes, you should be willing to worship those Dehner hunting boots! Keeping them shining is a mandatory requirement and should be done by you as a matter of desire.