Nature vs Nurture or Are We Born This Way?

It’s fascinating to me how consistent my sexual proclivities have remained over the years.

When I was only six-years-old I distinctly remember that there was a gal (maybe 12 or 13-years-old) who lived two doors over on whom I had a significant crush. Why? Because she had a distinct penchant for going about sans footwear. And when she did wear shoes, it was inevitably a pair of cheap foam flip flops.

Really, I saw a lot of this gal… my dad worked with her dad, so our families were friends, and she almost literally lived next door (two doors over actually). If I wasn’t at her place, she was at mine. We never socialized but, damn, did I get an eyeful of her lovely bare feet, time and again. I should add that the rest of her was pretty appealing as well, soft and curvy, not at all thin, but not fat. And lovely, thick, long dark hair.

People don’t think that a six-year-old can have these thoughts but, boy, did I ever.

Cemented in my mind is the day that she and some of her friends were playing with some boys their own age… and she along with one other gal, for some reason, ended up getting tied to a tree. Really and for true… right in the front yard!

My memory is crystal-clear. The other gal I was uninterested in; she had on sneakers and socks. But my lovely neighbor, she was wearing only her usual flip flops. The boys weren’t half bad riggers… I remember noting how they looped the rope around the wrists and ankles, ensuring that the gals couldn’t get loose.

But I was focused, laser-like, on her feet in those flip flops, hoping against hope that someone would go over and take them off. But I needn’t have worried… as she laughed and struggled she kicked off first one, then the other, the better that her bare soles and toes could dig in the dirt, futilely effecting her escape.

In a move that was bold beyond comprehension, I walked over, picked both of them up, and set them on the sidewalk, several feet from where she was tied. Ostensibly, I was being helpful. In reality, I didn’t want her to have any chance of putting them back on!

The struggles, and my voyeurism, went on for several minutes before my mother leaned out the door and called me in for dinner. She didn’t seem fazed in the slightest that there were two girls tied up by a bunch of boys. Was it a different world in 1971? Or are such tie-up games perfectly acceptable provided it’s just amongst the kids?

When I went back out after dinner, they were all gone, her flip flops as well. I remember that there were a few distinct bare foot prints in the dirt; I found the idea that she’d had to walk the several feet from the tree to the sidewalk in her bare feet strangely appealing.

The next day we were at her house (my parents were playing cards with hers) and she came down for a bit. I remember noticing that there were faint-but-distinct rope burns around her wrists and ankles.

My point again is… I was six-years-old, and my interest in bondage and bare feet was already well cemented. I remember watching and thinking, “Yes, that’s how it should be.” My fetishes weren’t formed by this incident… I already knew that I liked women who were barefooted, and that they should be tied and gagged. Seeing this was simply my first experience with actual BDSM.

I continue to believe that a proclivity towards BDSM or fetishes in general is hard-wired into our psyche, much like being straight or gay. I’m happy to have someone in my life who’s only too happy to indulge my kinks. Because, the older I get, the more I feel the need to indulge them, and on an increasingly regular basis.

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PirateStan has been involved in his local BDSM community for over 11 years, after having had a lifelong inclination towards it. He currently lives a contented life in Southeastern Virginia with his girl, zeirah, while working by day for a Major Metropolitan Publication.