My story

For me, obsession has always been at the root of my addiction.  When I met my first girlfriend, I stared at her for hours.  Literally.  I can remember a bus trip to a camping retreat (we went to the same church and were in the youth ministry together) and the whole three-hour bus ride I spent sitting in the front row, spun around and watching her–memorizing her face, the way her hair fell, the way she laughed.  It was almost in reverence… like I was worshiping an idol.

This was all before I knew anything about findom or femdom and very little about sex.

I obsessed about things other than pretty girls too.  I would count stairs whenever I encountered them.  Or if there was a song on the radio that I liked, I’d find it online then listen to it on repeat over and over for days until I sucked all the joy out of it like marrow from a bone.

My family is also pretty obsessive and prone to addiction.  My cousin died from a drug overdose, my father struggled with alcoholism, and two of my siblings were heavy users of meth and heroin.

I was fortunate enough to see those examples at a young age–long before I was tempted by heavy drugs–and so I was able to navigate my way through adolescence unscathed by them.  However, I had no idea of the dangers of being addicted to the dopamine that came from porn and fetish websites and that’s the one that caught me.

My first girlfriend and I experimented a lot in that area–mostly due to me.  There was something so alluring about being dominated for me that I just kept asking for more.  She humored me which was great, but it was never enough.  I would supplement my time with her by masturbating in front of the computer screen to increasingly sketchy pornography.  I went from fetish websites, to femdom websites, to findom websites.  My tastes gradually grew more extreme–from foot fetish pictures, to trampling pictures, to cuckold pictures, to findom journals, to all things, self-deprecating–until I wasn’t even capable of having normal sex without some humiliation aspect to it.

My first girlfriend dumped me while I was in college and it was the worst feeling in the world.  It didn’t just hurt because she was my first (first kiss, first lay, first love, etc.) but through the six years we were together, I had pushed her to treat me worse and worse and she had lost respect for me entirely and it was entirely my fault!  That’s what stung the most.

After that, I lapsed into a big depression and couldn’t figure out how to move on with my life.  It was as though God had just told me he didn’t want me.  All the color of my world had been sucked out and I was limping through life like a walking corpse.  Inside I was dead, and bitter.  I felt like I had nothing to live for, but as a Christian I couldn’t kill myself either.  Part of me held a glimmer of hope that I might win her back.  If I was rich or famous maybe.  I started comparing myself to celebrities and one-in-a-million success stories like Mark Zuckerberg’s and thought if I could be like them she’d take me back.

I joined a bunch of clubs to be president (even if there was only one other person in the club), loaded myself up with courses, ran for student government president and worked out a lot.  Every day was pain and nothing happened fast enough.  I put so much pressure on myself to be this shining star–constantly asking how I could do more and do it faster–that eventually I crumbled.  My hair started falling out, I began to fail in all my classes, and I lost my run for president.

My brain and emotions were on fire.  Every day hurt and I couldn’t figure out what to do to make it stop.  I had an internal voice shouting “go go go” and would get up only to burn myself out again in different fantastic ways.

One thing that offered a little temporary respite from the stress was masturbating to internet porn.  It began to need it more and more.  And when it wasn’t enough, that’s when I started to act out.

I have a foot fetish and with nothing to lose and a heavy metal blasting in my head at all times, I would do anything for the peace that came with an orgasm.  One time I remember breaking into the school theater’s changing room at night during the run of a play to masturbate to the shoes the actresses wore.  Another time, I stole a pair of socks from the hamper of a friend’s roommate.  Worse perhaps was after a semester when everyone had moved out, I threw a rock through the glass of an apartment where four girls had lived and masturbated with my face on the floor imagining my face was pressed against their footprints.

I had hit rock bottom (or so I thought) and there was nothing I could do about it.  From the moment I woke up in the morning, I had the urge to masturbate to femdom.  I probably masturbated 5 times a day.  It was worse than any time I had been with my girlfriend.  In fact, the pain I felt about her also became arousing.  I would look up pictures of her and her new boyfriend online and fantasize about being their cuckold or just giving her money while she laughed at me with her new better man.  I was able to turn that pain into arousal and that’s how I dealt with everything.

After college, I still acted out, but in different ways.  I moved out into my own apartment and started reaching out to girls to meet online.  I started posting ads on craigslist asking to buy women’s shoes for a hundred dollars.  This worked for a while and I got a lot of shoes.  However, every now and again I’d have moments of regret and shame and throw them all away and vow to never do it again.  I’d cry, pray, maybe give up porn for a few days (the record was 10), but then something would happen.  I’d see a cute girl being dominant on TV or in person somewhere, and I’d masturbate to it and fall right back into the old patterns.

I never broke into another place again like I did in college.  That was something that made me feel really gross about myself and I’m glad that part of my life didn’t continue outside of school.  However, with the success I was having on Craigslist, I didn’t need to.  I was able to pursue my addiction to new heights because I was now finding women who’d indulge me and understood my fetish and would humiliate me as much as I was willing to pay.  It was a whole new level.

My craigslist posts moved from buying shoes/socks to paying women to kiss their feet or just to be spit on.  Most pathetic sometimes I just paid girls to pay them.  The humiliation of just handing over money to have them take it and laugh at me was worth the money (and they were always willing to meet again and do it for more).

This led me to meeting with prostitutes who would let me masturbate while their feet were on my face for abnormal amounts of money.  I found myself in seedier places like brothels and dungeons with cocaine dust on the counter tops, paying women for them to humiliate me.  Once I paid a heroin addict two hundred dollars to rub her feet and I never talked to her since.  It only dawned on me after the fact how dangerous that was for her.

My life was going in a seriously bad direction.  I was consumed with femdom, hemorrhaging money to prostitutes and online findoms, and putting myself through some horrific abuse emotionally.

On the outside though, no one knew what I was going through.  Not my family, not my friends.  During the day I worked a respectable 9-5 and made enough money to support myself.  At night I was blowing it on self-destructive behavior and constantly toeing the line between worlds and tempting the secret world to spill over into my vanilla one.  Sometimes it came very, very close, which I’ll write about in another entry.  However, I was never exposed for what I was doing to anyone I cared about and it felt very much like I was two different men.

2 Replies to “My story

  1. Thank yoj so much for this post
    I am in same situation
    Instead if feet my addiction is for ass and worn panties

    I really need help to quit. But keeps going back. Yesterday i spent 600 dollars. Same this happens weekly

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