DOORMAT HISTORY
NOTHING IN THIS STORY IS MEANT OR TO BE CONSTRUED AS PORNOGRAPHY.
THAT IS NOT ITS INTENT. THIS IS THE TRUE AND FACTUAL BIOGRAPHY OF ONE
CHILD’S ABUSE BY OTHER CHILDREN. THIS STORY DETAILS HOW ONE
INDIVIDUAL CAME TO LIKE BEING A DOORMAT AND BOOTLICKER FOR OTHER’S.
THE IS A TRUE AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL STORY.
This is meant as a full and accurate biography of one man that became a trample fetishist. I hope
this will inspire others to post similar biographies. By this I do not mean those of the "when I
was six, I was stepped on by my aunt, uncle, father, mother, sister, brother, etc. and became a
trample fetishist" variety. If it inspires someone, please try to address the very complex
experiences and issues that lead to your sexual preferences. I hope that I have done that.
Mat MacGregor
I grew up in a small town, in a largely rural area. This was coal-mining country. Most of the
local residents saw little value in education, since it would be of no use in digging coal out of the
earth. I was always a geek growing up. I never had any friends, only playmates. From about the
time that I was five years old, play always involved my getting beat up. This continued as long as
I was in school, from grade school through high school.
When I was about ten years old, I got beat up by a bully who was a year or two older than me.
When he had me down on the ground, he stepped on my chest to hold me down in the dirt. I
really don’t remember what kind of shoes he was wearing. Given the time, they were probably
something like Converse All-Stars. I fantasize today that they were boots, but I am sure they
were not.
About the time I was eleven, the same bully beat me up, this time with another boy watching and
laughing. The bully told the other boy to step on my chest to hold me down, and the other boy
stood on me instead. They both liked the effect that this had on me, and then the bully stepped on
my face, pressing it down into the dirt. This time I clearly remember he was wearing work boots.
They both thought this was hysterical. Later the same year, the same thing happened again, but
this time, while the one boy was standing on my chest, the bully decided to piss in my face. He
unzipped his pants, pulled out his cock and let go with a hard, long stream of piss in my face.
The other boy loved this, and then took his turn doing the same thing. This was a riot to them.
The bully then stepped on my face again with his work boot, forcing my face down into the mud
made from the dirt and their piss. Again, this was very funny to both of them, both laughing
almost to the point of pain.
When this kind of thing happens to you, you get a reputation. Soon, other boys were beating me
up, stepping and standing on me and pissing in my face. They loved it. Everyone started calling
me a fag. School was hell. At about the age of thirteen, same routine, this time with a new twist.
Three boys, one wearing dirty, beat up work boots and the other two wearing engineers, beat me
up and knocked me down in the dirt. The one wearing work boots stood on my chest, the second
pulled out his cock to piss in my face. Just as he started pissing, the third kicked me in the balls
hard. As I yelled in pain, the guy pissing directed his stream of piss, right in my mouth.
The third guy then stomped on my balls and ground his boot into my groin. As I lay there moaning in pain,
the second guy continued to piss in my open mouth. His piss had a pungent smell and a bitter
taste. All of them were busting up laughing. The one that stomped on my balls and crushed them
while the other bully was pissing in my mouth told me that his boots were steel toed. He said that
I was going to lie there, mouth open, while he and the other guy pissed in my mouth. He said that
if I didn’t he would either kick my nuts into my throat, or stomp them out of my asshole. I was
scared and did as I was told. Again, they all loved this.
Where and when I grew up, boys didn’t get in trouble for beating someone up. Boys got in
trouble for not defending themselves. Getting beat up could often lead to punishment by teachers
or principals for being weak and cowardly. I was beginning to feel that I deserved the treatment I
was getting from the other boys.
In the early spring of the same year, we had a warm spell, leading to the last of the snow melting
and the ground thawing. When the ground freezes and the water in it expands, it breaks up the
dirt. When the ground first thaws, it is very muddy. Three of the older boys grabbed me after
school and dragged me out onto one of the ball fields. They beat the shit out of me, and then
threw me down into the mud. As one of them stepped on me, it left a big muddy footprint. This
only inspired the others. They said I should be a fucking doormat; "let’s wipe our boots on him".
They stood on me and wiped their muddy boots on my chest, they wiped their muddy boots on
my face. When one wiped his muddy boot on my crotch, he noticed I had an erection. I didn’t
even know what one was yet. He said to the others, "the faggots got a hard on".
This was only more inspiration, each of them had to wipe their muddy boots on my erection, making it only
grow bigger. One of them took his very muddy boot, ground it into my face and said something
to the effect of "eat dirt faggot". I got more of the same old treatment. Lie in the mud with my
mouth open as each pissed into my mouth. More of the new treatment, wiping their muddy boots
on my chest, face and crotch. Then one of them got another idea. Lifting his boot out of the mud,
he placed the heel on my chest and placed the sole over my mouth. "Kiss my boot faggot." When
I didn’t respond fast enough, he stepped down on my mouth, forcing mud between my lips.
Again, "kiss my boot faggot". Scared, this time I obeyed. The next one took his turn, but he
instructed, "Lick my boot faggot". As I was scared and another one was standing on my cock and
balls with his muddy boot, I did as I was told. I was an object of much amusement that day.
I had to sneak in the basement door at home that day and clean up before my parents saw me. I
was scared, filthy, ashamed, humiliated and confused. I had gotten an erection during this abuse
and I didn’t know why. I did know that it felt good. I was coming into puberty. I was confused
enough already and this only made things worse. Now, I not only believed that I deserved this
treatment, but I was beginning to like it as well.
I got my first pair of work boots when I was about thirteen. I loved those boots. They made me
feel powerful. For a while, I slept in them every night. Soon, I was wearing them to bed and
masturbating. I would fantasize that I was the bully. Then one night as I lay in bed masturbating,
I thought of how I was being treated by the other boys. I was surprised when my orgasm was
particularly intense that night. I was getting more confused, more sexually aware, and it was all
mixed up.
When I fantasized about being stomped, kicked, trampled, used as a doormat, lying in the mud
and having muddy boots wiped on me, kissing them, licking them, my orgasms were more
intense. I was confused, but I liked it. Next, I was masturbating while kissing and licking my
own work boots. Then I would put them back on and sleep in them.
I rode my bike everywhere. When they were building a new school in town, I watched them
moving the dirt around with bulldozers and big dump trucks (Terex) I loved to watch the men
operating this equipment. It was best after it had rained, the work site would be muddy. I thought
they looked masculine in their dirty, muddy work boots. By this time, all the bullies at school
were wearing boots—work boots, engineers, loggers. I was getting very confused; I began
thinking that the bullies looked masculine too. I didn’t mind being beat up, trampled, stomped,
kicked and used as a doormat. I was fantasizing about it, masturbating to fantasies about it, and it
felt good. More confusion, but I didn’t care as long as the orgasms were good. I not only felt that
I deserved such treatment, I looked forward to it and I enjoyed it.
I don’t want to leave the impression that I was used universally as a punching bag or doormat. I
was not. Only six guys did this to me. It was never more than two, or rarely three, guys at a time
and rarely the same group. Often it was only one. This was good since they seemed to spur one
another’s creativity. It was mainly a crime of opportunity.
At fourteen, I made a wonderful discovery while riding my bike—a played out strip mine. Due to
a loophole in the law, if a strip mine owner left equipment behind on the strip, he could say that
he was not done mining and would not have to reclaim the land. This mine had wonderful
abandoned heavy equipment on it. There was a huge Caterpillar D-9 bulldozer, a Terex
earthmover and a Terex mining dump truck. These Terex's tires were ten or twelve feet high and
the bulldozer was gigantic. All of these were parked in a depression in the tailing pile. The
tailing pile is where they pile all the dirt from the overlay that they strip off to get at the coal.
Because they were all parked in a depression in the tailing pile it was always very muddy. I
would stomp through and around the mud, and then pretend that I was operating the bulldozers
and other equipment. I would get my boots as muddy as possible. I would then climb into the
cabs of this equipment and stomp on the pedals, move the levers, pretend I was turning the
steering wheel of the dump truck. I would stomp and kick the mud from my boots on the pedals
so it would fall on the floor. Then I would stand, wipe and grind my boots into the mud,
pretending that I was doing this to myself. I would get my boots incredibly muddy, mud on tops
of the toes, mud stuck and packed to the sides, heels and soles of my boots. This yellow clay
mud stuck wonderfully to my boots. I would eventually sit in the cabs of this equipment and
masturbate while wearing my very muddy boots. If I blew my load on the floor, then I would
stomp in it with my boots. I would also piss on my own boots.
Having started masturbating as I licked my work boots when they were clean, I now moved to
masturbating as I licked and wiped my muddy boots on myself. I would lick them clean when
they were covered in mud. I wiped them on me as well as licking them clean. I would fantasize
that I could have magic powers and be two of myself, one of me wearing the muddy boots,
wiping them on the other me and the other me lying under those boots and being a doormat for
myself.
I was forced to suck cock for the first time. A guy who was about two years older than me
grabbed me and took me to a park that was seldom used. He pulled me over to a picnic table and
told me I was going to suck his cock. This idea had never occurred to me. He said if I didn’t,
he was going to do more than just hurt me. I was scared. He had me sit on the ground by the picnic
bench. He unzipped his jeans, pulled out his cock and balls and sat down. He told me to lick his
nuts. As I started licking his balls, he placed his boot in my crotch and started rubbing my cock.
Then I remembered him.
This was the guy who told everyone that I had an erection when I was
being stomped in the mud. He told me to lick his dick. As I was licking his cock and balls, he
was working my cock and balls in my jeans with his boot. He told me to take his dick in my
mouth and to suck on it. As his erection grew, so did mine. I liked the musky smell of his balls,
the salty, bitter taste of his balls. I liked having his cock in my mouth, although I didn’t know
why at the time. Later, I realized that I liked it because he was making me get hard with his boot,
while I sucked his cock. When he came in my mouth, I was shocked. I had never done this
before and didn’t know what to do. I swallowed. He said, "Good, I like a boy that swallows". No
one else ever found out about this. I kept waiting for it. I figured that all the guys would be told
that I was a cocksucker and it would be just one more thing that I would have to do in
humiliation. The guy never told anyone. I have never figured out why. But, he was the one that
taught me how to suck cock. I sucked his cock and swallowed his cum many times.
When I got interested in girls, I started fantasizing about girls that I would see wearing boots. I
fantasized that they would have me lick their boots, lick the soles of their boots clean, trample
me and use me as their doormat. I managed to steal a pair of girl's boots (I don't remember how).
I stomped around in the mud at the strip mine wearing these boots and later wiped them on me
and licked the mud from them while masturbating. I fantasized about girls in riding boots
stepping on me to mount and dismount their horses.
I was a photographer in college and shot many sports events. This is when I started to be turned
on by cleats. I would imagine lying in front of the benches and having the football players and
soccer players stepping on, trampling and stomping me with their muddy cleats as the came on
and off the bench.
While I was in college, I would go out at night and stomp around in the mud on soccer fields and
baseball fields, getting my boots as muddy as possible. I would masturbate while doing this. I
would walk back to the dorm and track muddy footprints down the carpets in the hallways and
elevators. I would stomp the mud off my boots, wiping my muddy boots on the carpets and
grinding the mud into the carpets as much as possible. In the mornings, I could see my muddy
footprints in the carpets in the hallways. This always made my cock hard when I saw it. I also
pissed in the elevators; I loved the urinal smell that the elevators acquired over time.
Having now been turned on by cleats, already stomping around at night on muddy soccer fields;
I bought my own pair of cleats and started playing intramural soccer. I purchased the cleats that I
did for the maximum amount of extreme violence that I could inflict on my chest, tits and hands.
I tested this out in the store by stepping on the backs and palms of my hands before choosing one
pair. I liked playing soccer and I was good at it. My main interest in playing though was to get
my cleats and myself as muddy as possible. This opened a completely new universe. Now I was
able to lick soccer cleats clean, wipe them on my chest and grind them into my tits. This was
new. Digging a cleat into my nipple, twisting and grinding it into my tit and scraping it across it
across my tit opened a whole new world for me. This introduced pain into my being a doormat. It
was somewhat like the pain of getting beat up, but much better. The pain intensified the doormat
experience and made my orgasms much more intense. It was exhilarating to masturbate, dig and
grind a heel cleat into my tit while licking and eating the mud from the cleats on the sole.
When the Frye campus boots became popular while I was in college, I really went nuts. I loved
those boots and fantasized about licking them and being trampled by them. I did manage to get
my hands stepped on by them a couple of times.
Oh, what fantasies I had. They were about both women and men. I didn't care, as long as I was
stomped and trampled with either their boots or cleats—and the muddier the better. I wanted to
lick the mud from their boots and cleats and be their doormat. I wanted them to wipe their boots
on me and grind lugged boot soles or cleats into my chest. I guess this kind of gets back to the
bully thing—a power transfer. I didn't think about it, I just wanted to be under those boots and
cleats—licking them, being trampled by them, having them wiped on me as their doormat.
It wasn’t all fantasy—I did get to fulfill my desires occasionally.
Getting my hands stepped on is something that I learned about by accident. During the Christmas
shopping season one year, I was in a Walden’s bookstore. I was looking at a book on a lower
shelf and had sat down on the floor. One hand was on the floor and the person standing next to
me stepped on it by accident. This was a new experience for me and I decided to try it again and
see if it would work. I would sit on the floor and place my hand next to or behind someone’s
foot. I found that if they shifted their weight or changed how they were standing, they would
usually step on my hand. This worked very well. A few of these were memorable experiences.
Once, a woman wearing L. L. Bean Maine hunting boots stepped back and her heel just caught
my little finger. She didn’t notice or didn’t acknowledge that she was standing on my finger. She
stood on it a long time, shifting her weight from foot to foot. When she stepped off, I had the
pattern of her boot tread stamped into my finger. Another, very memorable time, a guy in a
leather jacket and engineer boots with Vibram lugged soles stepped on my hand with his heel.
He stepped full weight on all my fingers. I think because I didn’t react, he didn’t step off. He
shifted his weight onto the foot standing on my fingers and leaned over a whispered something to
his girl friend. She looked down and he stepped forward to pull another book off the shelf, more
whispering.
I didn’t move my hand and he stepped back onto my fingers. She looked down again
and he twisted on his heel grinding the lugged heel into my fingers. More whispering, he placed
the book back on the shelf then stepped off a little down the aisle and his girlfriend stepped onto
my fingers. There was more whispering and she placed her other foot on top of the one on my
hand and was now standing with her full weight on my fingers. There was giggling from her and
more whispering between them. She then stepped back to where she had been and he stepped
onto my hand with the sole of the boot. Reaching back and forth to point at different books, he
ground his lug sole hard into the back of my hand. They both moved over then, off my hand then
turned back, walking away. As they walked away, they both stepped on my hand. There was
laughter as they turned the corner of the aisle and walked away. I know that they both had to
know what they were doing. I not only had his lugged boot prints on the back of my hand, but it
took a couple of hours for them to fade. I will never forget that experience.
I also learned that at sporting events, when sitting in bleachers, if I placed my hand right at the
rear edge of the bench I was on, people sitting behind me would step on my fingers when they
put their feet up on my bench. I did this first by placing my hand under the boot of a woman
sitting behind me when she had her feet up on my bench. The other nice thing about this
situation, is that when people put their feet up on the bench in front of them, they often rock their
feet back and forth. This yields great pinching forces on the fingers and it feels wonderful.
Acting drunk at parties, I came up with two party tricks. The first was lying in front of sofas face
up at parties like I was passed out. The only way that people could sit on the sofa would be to
step on and trample me. There was one particularly memorable experience with this. When
hiking boots became the popular style, I had three women step on me in hiking boots and sit on a
sofa with their hiking boots on me. One had her boots on my crotch, one had her boots on my
lower chest and stomach and the third had her boots on my tits and face. They all thought this
was hysterical. They sat on the sofa drinking beer with their boots on me like this for maybe an
hour. My cock was as hard as a rock and it felt wonderful under the woman’s boot. They also
thought it was very funny when the one woman’s boot left a very clear imprint of her Vibram
sole on my face. They got up a couple of times to get more beer and stepped on me full weight
each time one of them got up or returned with more beer. Alcohol does wonders to diminish
inhibitions and enhance a perverted sense of humor.
The other party trick I had was drinking piss from beer bottles. When people thought I was really
trashed, they would take an empty beer bottle, piss in it then switch it with the bottle I was
drinking from. I knew very well what was being done. They thought I was too drunk to notice.
Usually guys pissed in the bottles. Occasionally women pissed in the bottles. Usually it was
whoever thought it was funniest. I rarely got drunk at parties because I have a very high
tolerance for alcohol. They did not know this however. It was common knowledge that I would
drink piss if someone switched my beer bottle or brought me a new one filled with piss. They
just thought I was too drunk to notice. Little did they know that I had been drinking piss since
junior high school. I loved it and they loved it. No one ever told me that I had been drinking piss
because I was too drunk to notice. If anyone had told me, I would have told them they were full
of shit.
On one occasion, I had sex with two women wearing boots. We had all been drinking at a party
and they were drunk. We went back to one of their dorm rooms intending to have sex. I started
by having each of them place her boots in my crotch as I pulled their boots off. We all undressed
each other and I started by eating them both out until they came. I continued to give them beer as
we partied naked. When one of them said she had to piss, I said let me eat you out first. She
agreed and then she said if I didn’t stop to let her use the bathroom, she was going to piss in my
mouth. I said, "Go for it." She did, and I drank it. After this, the other one wanted to piss in my
mouth too. I agreed. The more beer they drank the more I drank their golden showers. I ate them
to orgasm several times apiece—thank God for multiple orgasms. When they finally wanted me
to fuck them, I asked them to wear their boots as we fucked. They both agreed. I placed the heels
of their boots on my tits, had them grind their heels into my tits and I licked the soles of their
boots as we fucked. I don’t know if they remembered any of this the next morning, but when the
three of us woke up the next morning, we fucked some more and I had had one of the most
memorable experiences of my life the night before.
When I met my future wife, she always wore big clunky platforms. This is just one of the things
that I found very sexy about her. She was the first person—and only person—that I ever fully
confided in about my sexual preferences. When we would be making out, she would grind her
big clunky heels into my feet. She would let me lick her platforms and grind her heels into my
tits when we fucked. I bought her first pair of black, knee high lace up boots before we were
married. I had these resoled with Vibram soles and heels before giving them to her. I think that
the cobbler thought I was nuts. I loved to walk behind her and watch her walk in the mud.
The anticipation of eventually having to lick that mud from her boots, to have her wipe those boots
on me was extremely exciting. On occasion, I would lie on the ground, and she would lift her
boots directly out of the mud, wipe them on my face and chest and have me lick the mud from
her boots. I bought her many pairs of boots of different kinds. I bought, black knee high lace up
boots and knee high engineers with Vibram soles. I bought hiking boots, western boots,
platforms, riding boots, steel toed boots, work boots, military boots. I loved just seeing her wear
her boots. I loved boots with lugged soles because they bit into my tits and hurt the most. Before
sex, I would put the boots in my crotch and pull it on her while she pushed against my crotch. If
the boots were lace ups, she would step on my cock and balls while I laced up her boots. I was in
heaven. She was at her sexiest when she would wear a white lacy top, mid-calf denim skirt, and
knee high lace up boots. We would go walking in the mud—ball fields were best for this as they
had bleachers. We would go over to the bleachers, I would eat her out to orgasm, she would piss
in my mouth, we would fuck, then I would lick the mud from her boots. Finally, we would walk
through the mud again, and then walk home with muddy boots. Later, I would often masturbate
while licking the mud from my own boots.
Although I bought my wife several pairs of cleats (softball, soccer, football) in sizes that would
fit her, she always refused to wear them. They would have been awesome while making love, the
cleats digging into my tits while we were fucking. She always refused to wear them. I used them
to masturbate with, digging the cleats into my tits, licking the cleats on the soles and fantasizing
that my wife was wearing them. Oh well, it was better than nothing.
While working at a car dealership, I had access to a car that had a pair of women’s boots in it.
This woman raised horses and her boots had horseshit packed in the arch in front of the heel and
stuck to the sides and heels of the boots. They smelled wonderful. Curious, I licked these boots
and it tasted good.
Having started, I licked these boots as thoroughly as I could, eating the horseshit from in front of
the heel. I liked the smell and the taste. Several years later, I had access to a sport utility vehicle
that had a pair of women’s riding boots in it, which I stole. These boots were black, but worn
brown on the insides of the calves from the sides of horses while riding. These boots were also
covered in horseshit. I licked them thoroughly clean of the horseshit. Coincidently, at the time,
we lived in a house with two horse farms behind it. After my wife had gone to sleep, I would go
over to one of the horse farms and press these boots down into fresh piles of horseshit. Then I
would return to the house and lick them clean.
Eventually, when my wife was not home, I would bring piles of horseshit into the garage, lie
down, then press the boots into these fresh piles of horseshit and lick it from the boots. I
suggested to my wife once that I would lick horseshit from her boots and she thought that was
disgusting. That didn’t stop me from licking horseshit from boots. Finally, when my wife was
away for the weekend, I brought a fresh pile of horseshit into the basement of our house. This
was a full, large, undisturbed pile of horseshit. I had already been out to a new housing
development and gotten my boots thoroughly muddy. I knelt before this wonderful pile of
horseshit and started kissing it, gently at first. Then I began to French kiss this pile of horseshit,
licking at it, then passionately kissing and licking it with both the top and bottom of my tongue. I
had placed a mirror behind this pile of shit so I could watch myself doing this. My cock was
getting incredibly hard. Then, I picked one of the turds off the top of this pile of horseshit with
my teeth. I looked in the mirror at myself with a horse turd in my teeth.
I stuck my tongue out around the turd as I watched in the mirror. Then I sucked the turd into
my mouth and chewed it up. I swallowed some of it, but most of it I spit out. I then lay over this
pile of horseshit and pushed my face down, mouth open, into the rest of it as if someone had forced
my face into it with a boot on the back of my head. I rocked my face side to side, fully covering it with
horseshit, closed my mouth, and then looked in the mirror. I stuck my tongue out so I could see it
covered with horseshit. Then I went to the washtub and cleaned up. This is the only time I have
done this, but would do it again with another person if they so desired. I still step in horseshit any
chance I get and lick it from my boots.
Eventually my wife started to complain that most of the boots I bought were too masculine. She
asked why I didn’t by her more feminine boots. I had no interest in fetish boots, fuck-me pumps,
high heels or any boots of these types. I tried to point out that riding boots and western boots
were feminine. She didn’t buy this argument.
My wife had not always worn boots when we made love. In hindsight, this may have been a
mistake. She began to ask why I didn’t make love so passionately when she didn’t wear boots as
I did when she wore boots. I said that I did, she didn’t believe it. Eventually, she began to
complain that I loved her boots more than I loved her. I said that wasn’t true. I truly had never
loved anyone else. Then she started to complain that I was looking at other women’s boots. She
said I never looked at other women that were not wearing boots, but that I looked at every
woman that was wearing boots. I said that wasn’t true, but she was right. She began to refuse to
wear boots in bed or when making love. Finally, she would not wear any new boots that I bought
her and then stopped wearing boots completely. She said using boots during sex was not
psychologically healthy for me. I didn’t buy that argument. She was jealous.
With this change in my wife’s attitude, I started to walk in the mud by myself. Then I returned to
licking my own boots, and then licking mud from my own boots. I did this at night after my wife
went to bed or when she was not home. This gave me time to clean up before she knew.
The Internet was a revelation for me. For the first time I came knew that I was not alone. I first
accessed the Internet through CompuServe in 1995. Since that time I have been with a number of
different Internet service providers. Since 1995, I have accumulated over 12,000 files totaling
over 1.0 GB of data. Most of these are pictures, but there are many stories and videos as well.
What a liberating feeling the Internet has provided in terms of my wanting to be a doormat, to
lick muddy boots, to eat horseshit from boots, to be trampled, stomped and kicked and to be
under another’s boots.
In time, I learned that top men are more interested in trampling and bootlicking than women.
Women seem to do it mainly for porno photos to satisfy the bank accounts of their employers
and men who want to be trampled by women and cannot find them. Men on the other hand, or
foot as you would, especially leather men love to have their boots licked. They like to stomp and
trample other men with their boots. This is what eventually led me to leather bars. What a
revelation that was. Men who were not afraid to be seen in public wearing leather jackets, leather
pants, leather chaps and wonderful boots outside and inside their jeans. This was a place that
men were comfortable in boots. This was a place that men wearing studded dog collars and
wristbands that said "submissive" were comfortable. This was a place that men were excited to
have another man lick their boots. I had found "heaven" again, since my wife no longer would
wear boots for sex or any other reason. I was back to my adolescence, being under another guy’s
boots and enjoying it. It was the power transfer again. I found men that would lick my boots in
the bar. It was doubly exciting to do this in public in front of other men. I found men that would
trample and stand on me at the bar. I found men that would go out back in the alley and piss in
my mouth, my face, and all over my chest and leather biker jacket. Again, I was in heaven.
Actions speak louder than words. My wife and I were no longer having sex. I would masturbate
under my own boots, lick my own boots, muddy and with horseshit on them. I would go to
leather bars and lick other men’s boots in public. I would also take my own very muddy boots to
the leather bar, find someone to put them on and lick those in public. I was never into "fetish"
boots. I liked real boots, real dirty and muddy and the men who would wear them. To lick these
boots in public was incredibly exciting. I had now moved back to being a doormat and bootlick
for men.
Currently my wife and I are separated. I go to leather bars and lick other men’s boots and other
men trample me with their boots. I stomp and walk in the mud or horseshit in my own boots, and
masturbate while wiping them on me and licking the mud or horseshit from them.
As a postscript, a wonderful thing that I learned many years ago was chain. Chain, especially
when placed inside a knee-high boot, can make that boot weigh as much as eighty pounds. This
is about the approximate weight of each boot of a one hundred sixty pound man. Unfortunately, I
have never been able to get more than eighty pounds of chain in a boot. I hope someday to find
the right combination of chain to get about ninety pounds in one boot.
I am sorry if any part of this story offends or disgusts anyone. It is the true autobiography of one
bootlicker and doormat. If anyone doubts the truth of this story, then anyone from Frederick, MD
to Pittsburgh, PA is invited to test my resolve.
I will suck cock and drink piss to be a doormat and bootlicker, but I only practice safe sex.
Anyone wanting me to be their doormat, lick their muddy boots or lick and eat horseshit from
their must provide the play space.
You can wear my boots or cleats if you want; I currently own about thirty-five pairs of boots and
about ten pairs of cleats. Or, bring your own muddy or shitty boots if you please. I will only eat
horseshit from boots, any other kind of shit or scat will not be welcome and I can tell the
difference.
I hope that this biography will motivate or inspire other doormats or bootlicks to tell how their
personal preferences developed. Take your time, don’t be glib or abbreviated, tell your whole
story. I have.
I am now 70% top but will bottom for the right guy. I would consider serving a couple (M/M or
even M/F) if they were the right pair. I live in Carroll County MD, not far from either Baltimore
or Columbia, MD. Anyone interested, feel free to contact me.
Mat MacGregor
[email protected]
THAT IS NOT ITS INTENT. THIS IS THE TRUE AND FACTUAL BIOGRAPHY OF ONE
CHILD’S ABUSE BY OTHER CHILDREN. THIS STORY DETAILS HOW ONE
INDIVIDUAL CAME TO LIKE BEING A DOORMAT AND BOOTLICKER FOR OTHER’S.
THE IS A TRUE AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL STORY.
This is meant as a full and accurate biography of one man that became a trample fetishist. I hope
this will inspire others to post similar biographies. By this I do not mean those of the "when I
was six, I was stepped on by my aunt, uncle, father, mother, sister, brother, etc. and became a
trample fetishist" variety. If it inspires someone, please try to address the very complex
experiences and issues that lead to your sexual preferences. I hope that I have done that.
Mat MacGregor
I grew up in a small town, in a largely rural area. This was coal-mining country. Most of the
local residents saw little value in education, since it would be of no use in digging coal out of the
earth. I was always a geek growing up. I never had any friends, only playmates. From about the
time that I was five years old, play always involved my getting beat up. This continued as long as
I was in school, from grade school through high school.
When I was about ten years old, I got beat up by a bully who was a year or two older than me.
When he had me down on the ground, he stepped on my chest to hold me down in the dirt. I
really don’t remember what kind of shoes he was wearing. Given the time, they were probably
something like Converse All-Stars. I fantasize today that they were boots, but I am sure they
were not.
About the time I was eleven, the same bully beat me up, this time with another boy watching and
laughing. The bully told the other boy to step on my chest to hold me down, and the other boy
stood on me instead. They both liked the effect that this had on me, and then the bully stepped on
my face, pressing it down into the dirt. This time I clearly remember he was wearing work boots.
They both thought this was hysterical. Later the same year, the same thing happened again, but
this time, while the one boy was standing on my chest, the bully decided to piss in my face. He
unzipped his pants, pulled out his cock and let go with a hard, long stream of piss in my face.
The other boy loved this, and then took his turn doing the same thing. This was a riot to them.
The bully then stepped on my face again with his work boot, forcing my face down into the mud
made from the dirt and their piss. Again, this was very funny to both of them, both laughing
almost to the point of pain.
When this kind of thing happens to you, you get a reputation. Soon, other boys were beating me
up, stepping and standing on me and pissing in my face. They loved it. Everyone started calling
me a fag. School was hell. At about the age of thirteen, same routine, this time with a new twist.
Three boys, one wearing dirty, beat up work boots and the other two wearing engineers, beat me
up and knocked me down in the dirt. The one wearing work boots stood on my chest, the second
pulled out his cock to piss in my face. Just as he started pissing, the third kicked me in the balls
hard. As I yelled in pain, the guy pissing directed his stream of piss, right in my mouth.
The third guy then stomped on my balls and ground his boot into my groin. As I lay there moaning in pain,
the second guy continued to piss in my open mouth. His piss had a pungent smell and a bitter
taste. All of them were busting up laughing. The one that stomped on my balls and crushed them
while the other bully was pissing in my mouth told me that his boots were steel toed. He said that
I was going to lie there, mouth open, while he and the other guy pissed in my mouth. He said that
if I didn’t he would either kick my nuts into my throat, or stomp them out of my asshole. I was
scared and did as I was told. Again, they all loved this.
Where and when I grew up, boys didn’t get in trouble for beating someone up. Boys got in
trouble for not defending themselves. Getting beat up could often lead to punishment by teachers
or principals for being weak and cowardly. I was beginning to feel that I deserved the treatment I
was getting from the other boys.
In the early spring of the same year, we had a warm spell, leading to the last of the snow melting
and the ground thawing. When the ground freezes and the water in it expands, it breaks up the
dirt. When the ground first thaws, it is very muddy. Three of the older boys grabbed me after
school and dragged me out onto one of the ball fields. They beat the shit out of me, and then
threw me down into the mud. As one of them stepped on me, it left a big muddy footprint. This
only inspired the others. They said I should be a fucking doormat; "let’s wipe our boots on him".
They stood on me and wiped their muddy boots on my chest, they wiped their muddy boots on
my face. When one wiped his muddy boot on my crotch, he noticed I had an erection. I didn’t
even know what one was yet. He said to the others, "the faggots got a hard on".
This was only more inspiration, each of them had to wipe their muddy boots on my erection, making it only
grow bigger. One of them took his very muddy boot, ground it into my face and said something
to the effect of "eat dirt faggot". I got more of the same old treatment. Lie in the mud with my
mouth open as each pissed into my mouth. More of the new treatment, wiping their muddy boots
on my chest, face and crotch. Then one of them got another idea. Lifting his boot out of the mud,
he placed the heel on my chest and placed the sole over my mouth. "Kiss my boot faggot." When
I didn’t respond fast enough, he stepped down on my mouth, forcing mud between my lips.
Again, "kiss my boot faggot". Scared, this time I obeyed. The next one took his turn, but he
instructed, "Lick my boot faggot". As I was scared and another one was standing on my cock and
balls with his muddy boot, I did as I was told. I was an object of much amusement that day.
I had to sneak in the basement door at home that day and clean up before my parents saw me. I
was scared, filthy, ashamed, humiliated and confused. I had gotten an erection during this abuse
and I didn’t know why. I did know that it felt good. I was coming into puberty. I was confused
enough already and this only made things worse. Now, I not only believed that I deserved this
treatment, but I was beginning to like it as well.
I got my first pair of work boots when I was about thirteen. I loved those boots. They made me
feel powerful. For a while, I slept in them every night. Soon, I was wearing them to bed and
masturbating. I would fantasize that I was the bully. Then one night as I lay in bed masturbating,
I thought of how I was being treated by the other boys. I was surprised when my orgasm was
particularly intense that night. I was getting more confused, more sexually aware, and it was all
mixed up.
When I fantasized about being stomped, kicked, trampled, used as a doormat, lying in the mud
and having muddy boots wiped on me, kissing them, licking them, my orgasms were more
intense. I was confused, but I liked it. Next, I was masturbating while kissing and licking my
own work boots. Then I would put them back on and sleep in them.
I rode my bike everywhere. When they were building a new school in town, I watched them
moving the dirt around with bulldozers and big dump trucks (Terex) I loved to watch the men
operating this equipment. It was best after it had rained, the work site would be muddy. I thought
they looked masculine in their dirty, muddy work boots. By this time, all the bullies at school
were wearing boots—work boots, engineers, loggers. I was getting very confused; I began
thinking that the bullies looked masculine too. I didn’t mind being beat up, trampled, stomped,
kicked and used as a doormat. I was fantasizing about it, masturbating to fantasies about it, and it
felt good. More confusion, but I didn’t care as long as the orgasms were good. I not only felt that
I deserved such treatment, I looked forward to it and I enjoyed it.
I don’t want to leave the impression that I was used universally as a punching bag or doormat. I
was not. Only six guys did this to me. It was never more than two, or rarely three, guys at a time
and rarely the same group. Often it was only one. This was good since they seemed to spur one
another’s creativity. It was mainly a crime of opportunity.
At fourteen, I made a wonderful discovery while riding my bike—a played out strip mine. Due to
a loophole in the law, if a strip mine owner left equipment behind on the strip, he could say that
he was not done mining and would not have to reclaim the land. This mine had wonderful
abandoned heavy equipment on it. There was a huge Caterpillar D-9 bulldozer, a Terex
earthmover and a Terex mining dump truck. These Terex's tires were ten or twelve feet high and
the bulldozer was gigantic. All of these were parked in a depression in the tailing pile. The
tailing pile is where they pile all the dirt from the overlay that they strip off to get at the coal.
Because they were all parked in a depression in the tailing pile it was always very muddy. I
would stomp through and around the mud, and then pretend that I was operating the bulldozers
and other equipment. I would get my boots as muddy as possible. I would then climb into the
cabs of this equipment and stomp on the pedals, move the levers, pretend I was turning the
steering wheel of the dump truck. I would stomp and kick the mud from my boots on the pedals
so it would fall on the floor. Then I would stand, wipe and grind my boots into the mud,
pretending that I was doing this to myself. I would get my boots incredibly muddy, mud on tops
of the toes, mud stuck and packed to the sides, heels and soles of my boots. This yellow clay
mud stuck wonderfully to my boots. I would eventually sit in the cabs of this equipment and
masturbate while wearing my very muddy boots. If I blew my load on the floor, then I would
stomp in it with my boots. I would also piss on my own boots.
Having started masturbating as I licked my work boots when they were clean, I now moved to
masturbating as I licked and wiped my muddy boots on myself. I would lick them clean when
they were covered in mud. I wiped them on me as well as licking them clean. I would fantasize
that I could have magic powers and be two of myself, one of me wearing the muddy boots,
wiping them on the other me and the other me lying under those boots and being a doormat for
myself.
I was forced to suck cock for the first time. A guy who was about two years older than me
grabbed me and took me to a park that was seldom used. He pulled me over to a picnic table and
told me I was going to suck his cock. This idea had never occurred to me. He said if I didn’t,
he was going to do more than just hurt me. I was scared. He had me sit on the ground by the picnic
bench. He unzipped his jeans, pulled out his cock and balls and sat down. He told me to lick his
nuts. As I started licking his balls, he placed his boot in my crotch and started rubbing my cock.
Then I remembered him.
This was the guy who told everyone that I had an erection when I was
being stomped in the mud. He told me to lick his dick. As I was licking his cock and balls, he
was working my cock and balls in my jeans with his boot. He told me to take his dick in my
mouth and to suck on it. As his erection grew, so did mine. I liked the musky smell of his balls,
the salty, bitter taste of his balls. I liked having his cock in my mouth, although I didn’t know
why at the time. Later, I realized that I liked it because he was making me get hard with his boot,
while I sucked his cock. When he came in my mouth, I was shocked. I had never done this
before and didn’t know what to do. I swallowed. He said, "Good, I like a boy that swallows". No
one else ever found out about this. I kept waiting for it. I figured that all the guys would be told
that I was a cocksucker and it would be just one more thing that I would have to do in
humiliation. The guy never told anyone. I have never figured out why. But, he was the one that
taught me how to suck cock. I sucked his cock and swallowed his cum many times.
When I got interested in girls, I started fantasizing about girls that I would see wearing boots. I
fantasized that they would have me lick their boots, lick the soles of their boots clean, trample
me and use me as their doormat. I managed to steal a pair of girl's boots (I don't remember how).
I stomped around in the mud at the strip mine wearing these boots and later wiped them on me
and licked the mud from them while masturbating. I fantasized about girls in riding boots
stepping on me to mount and dismount their horses.
I was a photographer in college and shot many sports events. This is when I started to be turned
on by cleats. I would imagine lying in front of the benches and having the football players and
soccer players stepping on, trampling and stomping me with their muddy cleats as the came on
and off the bench.
While I was in college, I would go out at night and stomp around in the mud on soccer fields and
baseball fields, getting my boots as muddy as possible. I would masturbate while doing this. I
would walk back to the dorm and track muddy footprints down the carpets in the hallways and
elevators. I would stomp the mud off my boots, wiping my muddy boots on the carpets and
grinding the mud into the carpets as much as possible. In the mornings, I could see my muddy
footprints in the carpets in the hallways. This always made my cock hard when I saw it. I also
pissed in the elevators; I loved the urinal smell that the elevators acquired over time.
Having now been turned on by cleats, already stomping around at night on muddy soccer fields;
I bought my own pair of cleats and started playing intramural soccer. I purchased the cleats that I
did for the maximum amount of extreme violence that I could inflict on my chest, tits and hands.
I tested this out in the store by stepping on the backs and palms of my hands before choosing one
pair. I liked playing soccer and I was good at it. My main interest in playing though was to get
my cleats and myself as muddy as possible. This opened a completely new universe. Now I was
able to lick soccer cleats clean, wipe them on my chest and grind them into my tits. This was
new. Digging a cleat into my nipple, twisting and grinding it into my tit and scraping it across it
across my tit opened a whole new world for me. This introduced pain into my being a doormat. It
was somewhat like the pain of getting beat up, but much better. The pain intensified the doormat
experience and made my orgasms much more intense. It was exhilarating to masturbate, dig and
grind a heel cleat into my tit while licking and eating the mud from the cleats on the sole.
When the Frye campus boots became popular while I was in college, I really went nuts. I loved
those boots and fantasized about licking them and being trampled by them. I did manage to get
my hands stepped on by them a couple of times.
Oh, what fantasies I had. They were about both women and men. I didn't care, as long as I was
stomped and trampled with either their boots or cleats—and the muddier the better. I wanted to
lick the mud from their boots and cleats and be their doormat. I wanted them to wipe their boots
on me and grind lugged boot soles or cleats into my chest. I guess this kind of gets back to the
bully thing—a power transfer. I didn't think about it, I just wanted to be under those boots and
cleats—licking them, being trampled by them, having them wiped on me as their doormat.
It wasn’t all fantasy—I did get to fulfill my desires occasionally.
Getting my hands stepped on is something that I learned about by accident. During the Christmas
shopping season one year, I was in a Walden’s bookstore. I was looking at a book on a lower
shelf and had sat down on the floor. One hand was on the floor and the person standing next to
me stepped on it by accident. This was a new experience for me and I decided to try it again and
see if it would work. I would sit on the floor and place my hand next to or behind someone’s
foot. I found that if they shifted their weight or changed how they were standing, they would
usually step on my hand. This worked very well. A few of these were memorable experiences.
Once, a woman wearing L. L. Bean Maine hunting boots stepped back and her heel just caught
my little finger. She didn’t notice or didn’t acknowledge that she was standing on my finger. She
stood on it a long time, shifting her weight from foot to foot. When she stepped off, I had the
pattern of her boot tread stamped into my finger. Another, very memorable time, a guy in a
leather jacket and engineer boots with Vibram lugged soles stepped on my hand with his heel.
He stepped full weight on all my fingers. I think because I didn’t react, he didn’t step off. He
shifted his weight onto the foot standing on my fingers and leaned over a whispered something to
his girl friend. She looked down and he stepped forward to pull another book off the shelf, more
whispering.
I didn’t move my hand and he stepped back onto my fingers. She looked down again
and he twisted on his heel grinding the lugged heel into my fingers. More whispering, he placed
the book back on the shelf then stepped off a little down the aisle and his girlfriend stepped onto
my fingers. There was more whispering and she placed her other foot on top of the one on my
hand and was now standing with her full weight on my fingers. There was giggling from her and
more whispering between them. She then stepped back to where she had been and he stepped
onto my hand with the sole of the boot. Reaching back and forth to point at different books, he
ground his lug sole hard into the back of my hand. They both moved over then, off my hand then
turned back, walking away. As they walked away, they both stepped on my hand. There was
laughter as they turned the corner of the aisle and walked away. I know that they both had to
know what they were doing. I not only had his lugged boot prints on the back of my hand, but it
took a couple of hours for them to fade. I will never forget that experience.
I also learned that at sporting events, when sitting in bleachers, if I placed my hand right at the
rear edge of the bench I was on, people sitting behind me would step on my fingers when they
put their feet up on my bench. I did this first by placing my hand under the boot of a woman
sitting behind me when she had her feet up on my bench. The other nice thing about this
situation, is that when people put their feet up on the bench in front of them, they often rock their
feet back and forth. This yields great pinching forces on the fingers and it feels wonderful.
Acting drunk at parties, I came up with two party tricks. The first was lying in front of sofas face
up at parties like I was passed out. The only way that people could sit on the sofa would be to
step on and trample me. There was one particularly memorable experience with this. When
hiking boots became the popular style, I had three women step on me in hiking boots and sit on a
sofa with their hiking boots on me. One had her boots on my crotch, one had her boots on my
lower chest and stomach and the third had her boots on my tits and face. They all thought this
was hysterical. They sat on the sofa drinking beer with their boots on me like this for maybe an
hour. My cock was as hard as a rock and it felt wonderful under the woman’s boot. They also
thought it was very funny when the one woman’s boot left a very clear imprint of her Vibram
sole on my face. They got up a couple of times to get more beer and stepped on me full weight
each time one of them got up or returned with more beer. Alcohol does wonders to diminish
inhibitions and enhance a perverted sense of humor.
The other party trick I had was drinking piss from beer bottles. When people thought I was really
trashed, they would take an empty beer bottle, piss in it then switch it with the bottle I was
drinking from. I knew very well what was being done. They thought I was too drunk to notice.
Usually guys pissed in the bottles. Occasionally women pissed in the bottles. Usually it was
whoever thought it was funniest. I rarely got drunk at parties because I have a very high
tolerance for alcohol. They did not know this however. It was common knowledge that I would
drink piss if someone switched my beer bottle or brought me a new one filled with piss. They
just thought I was too drunk to notice. Little did they know that I had been drinking piss since
junior high school. I loved it and they loved it. No one ever told me that I had been drinking piss
because I was too drunk to notice. If anyone had told me, I would have told them they were full
of shit.
On one occasion, I had sex with two women wearing boots. We had all been drinking at a party
and they were drunk. We went back to one of their dorm rooms intending to have sex. I started
by having each of them place her boots in my crotch as I pulled their boots off. We all undressed
each other and I started by eating them both out until they came. I continued to give them beer as
we partied naked. When one of them said she had to piss, I said let me eat you out first. She
agreed and then she said if I didn’t stop to let her use the bathroom, she was going to piss in my
mouth. I said, "Go for it." She did, and I drank it. After this, the other one wanted to piss in my
mouth too. I agreed. The more beer they drank the more I drank their golden showers. I ate them
to orgasm several times apiece—thank God for multiple orgasms. When they finally wanted me
to fuck them, I asked them to wear their boots as we fucked. They both agreed. I placed the heels
of their boots on my tits, had them grind their heels into my tits and I licked the soles of their
boots as we fucked. I don’t know if they remembered any of this the next morning, but when the
three of us woke up the next morning, we fucked some more and I had had one of the most
memorable experiences of my life the night before.
When I met my future wife, she always wore big clunky platforms. This is just one of the things
that I found very sexy about her. She was the first person—and only person—that I ever fully
confided in about my sexual preferences. When we would be making out, she would grind her
big clunky heels into my feet. She would let me lick her platforms and grind her heels into my
tits when we fucked. I bought her first pair of black, knee high lace up boots before we were
married. I had these resoled with Vibram soles and heels before giving them to her. I think that
the cobbler thought I was nuts. I loved to walk behind her and watch her walk in the mud.
The anticipation of eventually having to lick that mud from her boots, to have her wipe those boots
on me was extremely exciting. On occasion, I would lie on the ground, and she would lift her
boots directly out of the mud, wipe them on my face and chest and have me lick the mud from
her boots. I bought her many pairs of boots of different kinds. I bought, black knee high lace up
boots and knee high engineers with Vibram soles. I bought hiking boots, western boots,
platforms, riding boots, steel toed boots, work boots, military boots. I loved just seeing her wear
her boots. I loved boots with lugged soles because they bit into my tits and hurt the most. Before
sex, I would put the boots in my crotch and pull it on her while she pushed against my crotch. If
the boots were lace ups, she would step on my cock and balls while I laced up her boots. I was in
heaven. She was at her sexiest when she would wear a white lacy top, mid-calf denim skirt, and
knee high lace up boots. We would go walking in the mud—ball fields were best for this as they
had bleachers. We would go over to the bleachers, I would eat her out to orgasm, she would piss
in my mouth, we would fuck, then I would lick the mud from her boots. Finally, we would walk
through the mud again, and then walk home with muddy boots. Later, I would often masturbate
while licking the mud from my own boots.
Although I bought my wife several pairs of cleats (softball, soccer, football) in sizes that would
fit her, she always refused to wear them. They would have been awesome while making love, the
cleats digging into my tits while we were fucking. She always refused to wear them. I used them
to masturbate with, digging the cleats into my tits, licking the cleats on the soles and fantasizing
that my wife was wearing them. Oh well, it was better than nothing.
While working at a car dealership, I had access to a car that had a pair of women’s boots in it.
This woman raised horses and her boots had horseshit packed in the arch in front of the heel and
stuck to the sides and heels of the boots. They smelled wonderful. Curious, I licked these boots
and it tasted good.
Having started, I licked these boots as thoroughly as I could, eating the horseshit from in front of
the heel. I liked the smell and the taste. Several years later, I had access to a sport utility vehicle
that had a pair of women’s riding boots in it, which I stole. These boots were black, but worn
brown on the insides of the calves from the sides of horses while riding. These boots were also
covered in horseshit. I licked them thoroughly clean of the horseshit. Coincidently, at the time,
we lived in a house with two horse farms behind it. After my wife had gone to sleep, I would go
over to one of the horse farms and press these boots down into fresh piles of horseshit. Then I
would return to the house and lick them clean.
Eventually, when my wife was not home, I would bring piles of horseshit into the garage, lie
down, then press the boots into these fresh piles of horseshit and lick it from the boots. I
suggested to my wife once that I would lick horseshit from her boots and she thought that was
disgusting. That didn’t stop me from licking horseshit from boots. Finally, when my wife was
away for the weekend, I brought a fresh pile of horseshit into the basement of our house. This
was a full, large, undisturbed pile of horseshit. I had already been out to a new housing
development and gotten my boots thoroughly muddy. I knelt before this wonderful pile of
horseshit and started kissing it, gently at first. Then I began to French kiss this pile of horseshit,
licking at it, then passionately kissing and licking it with both the top and bottom of my tongue. I
had placed a mirror behind this pile of shit so I could watch myself doing this. My cock was
getting incredibly hard. Then, I picked one of the turds off the top of this pile of horseshit with
my teeth. I looked in the mirror at myself with a horse turd in my teeth.
I stuck my tongue out around the turd as I watched in the mirror. Then I sucked the turd into
my mouth and chewed it up. I swallowed some of it, but most of it I spit out. I then lay over this
pile of horseshit and pushed my face down, mouth open, into the rest of it as if someone had forced
my face into it with a boot on the back of my head. I rocked my face side to side, fully covering it with
horseshit, closed my mouth, and then looked in the mirror. I stuck my tongue out so I could see it
covered with horseshit. Then I went to the washtub and cleaned up. This is the only time I have
done this, but would do it again with another person if they so desired. I still step in horseshit any
chance I get and lick it from my boots.
Eventually my wife started to complain that most of the boots I bought were too masculine. She
asked why I didn’t by her more feminine boots. I had no interest in fetish boots, fuck-me pumps,
high heels or any boots of these types. I tried to point out that riding boots and western boots
were feminine. She didn’t buy this argument.
My wife had not always worn boots when we made love. In hindsight, this may have been a
mistake. She began to ask why I didn’t make love so passionately when she didn’t wear boots as
I did when she wore boots. I said that I did, she didn’t believe it. Eventually, she began to
complain that I loved her boots more than I loved her. I said that wasn’t true. I truly had never
loved anyone else. Then she started to complain that I was looking at other women’s boots. She
said I never looked at other women that were not wearing boots, but that I looked at every
woman that was wearing boots. I said that wasn’t true, but she was right. She began to refuse to
wear boots in bed or when making love. Finally, she would not wear any new boots that I bought
her and then stopped wearing boots completely. She said using boots during sex was not
psychologically healthy for me. I didn’t buy that argument. She was jealous.
With this change in my wife’s attitude, I started to walk in the mud by myself. Then I returned to
licking my own boots, and then licking mud from my own boots. I did this at night after my wife
went to bed or when she was not home. This gave me time to clean up before she knew.
The Internet was a revelation for me. For the first time I came knew that I was not alone. I first
accessed the Internet through CompuServe in 1995. Since that time I have been with a number of
different Internet service providers. Since 1995, I have accumulated over 12,000 files totaling
over 1.0 GB of data. Most of these are pictures, but there are many stories and videos as well.
What a liberating feeling the Internet has provided in terms of my wanting to be a doormat, to
lick muddy boots, to eat horseshit from boots, to be trampled, stomped and kicked and to be
under another’s boots.
In time, I learned that top men are more interested in trampling and bootlicking than women.
Women seem to do it mainly for porno photos to satisfy the bank accounts of their employers
and men who want to be trampled by women and cannot find them. Men on the other hand, or
foot as you would, especially leather men love to have their boots licked. They like to stomp and
trample other men with their boots. This is what eventually led me to leather bars. What a
revelation that was. Men who were not afraid to be seen in public wearing leather jackets, leather
pants, leather chaps and wonderful boots outside and inside their jeans. This was a place that
men were comfortable in boots. This was a place that men wearing studded dog collars and
wristbands that said "submissive" were comfortable. This was a place that men were excited to
have another man lick their boots. I had found "heaven" again, since my wife no longer would
wear boots for sex or any other reason. I was back to my adolescence, being under another guy’s
boots and enjoying it. It was the power transfer again. I found men that would lick my boots in
the bar. It was doubly exciting to do this in public in front of other men. I found men that would
trample and stand on me at the bar. I found men that would go out back in the alley and piss in
my mouth, my face, and all over my chest and leather biker jacket. Again, I was in heaven.
Actions speak louder than words. My wife and I were no longer having sex. I would masturbate
under my own boots, lick my own boots, muddy and with horseshit on them. I would go to
leather bars and lick other men’s boots in public. I would also take my own very muddy boots to
the leather bar, find someone to put them on and lick those in public. I was never into "fetish"
boots. I liked real boots, real dirty and muddy and the men who would wear them. To lick these
boots in public was incredibly exciting. I had now moved back to being a doormat and bootlick
for men.
Currently my wife and I are separated. I go to leather bars and lick other men’s boots and other
men trample me with their boots. I stomp and walk in the mud or horseshit in my own boots, and
masturbate while wiping them on me and licking the mud or horseshit from them.
As a postscript, a wonderful thing that I learned many years ago was chain. Chain, especially
when placed inside a knee-high boot, can make that boot weigh as much as eighty pounds. This
is about the approximate weight of each boot of a one hundred sixty pound man. Unfortunately, I
have never been able to get more than eighty pounds of chain in a boot. I hope someday to find
the right combination of chain to get about ninety pounds in one boot.
I am sorry if any part of this story offends or disgusts anyone. It is the true autobiography of one
bootlicker and doormat. If anyone doubts the truth of this story, then anyone from Frederick, MD
to Pittsburgh, PA is invited to test my resolve.
I will suck cock and drink piss to be a doormat and bootlicker, but I only practice safe sex.
Anyone wanting me to be their doormat, lick their muddy boots or lick and eat horseshit from
their must provide the play space.
You can wear my boots or cleats if you want; I currently own about thirty-five pairs of boots and
about ten pairs of cleats. Or, bring your own muddy or shitty boots if you please. I will only eat
horseshit from boots, any other kind of shit or scat will not be welcome and I can tell the
difference.
I hope that this biography will motivate or inspire other doormats or bootlicks to tell how their
personal preferences developed. Take your time, don’t be glib or abbreviated, tell your whole
story. I have.
I am now 70% top but will bottom for the right guy. I would consider serving a couple (M/M or
even M/F) if they were the right pair. I live in Carroll County MD, not far from either Baltimore
or Columbia, MD. Anyone interested, feel free to contact me.
Mat MacGregor
[email protected]