Monday, 20 September 2010


I went to a fetish fair, with another couple of first timers and a friend who goes regularly. On the newbies tour round the venue, Cindy was fascinated by all the vintage costumes and vertiginous shoes, but I hadn't really seen anything that grabbed my attention. Until I saw him.

Tight full body black rubber suit showing off his skinny punk boy physique, paw hand restraints, and a stylised dog mask with floppy ears. He was being led around on a collar and leash by an unassuming looking master wearing a hoodie and band T-Shirt, and Puppyboy wasn't acting like an animal at all, just casually walking and chatting. There was no overt dominance going on, but, really, there didn't need to be.

If it wasn't for his eyes, I wouldn't have been so transfixed, but there was a soft, given look in them, an expression of complete satisfaction. He was in his rightful place, he didn't have to worry about anything, he was complete.

I followed him around a little, drinking in the sight, but too shy to approach. I wouldn't have known what to say anyway, it was a strange kind of desire that was fired in me, I think I wanted to be him rather than own him. Not because of the outfit, not because I wanted to be a puppy, but I just longed for that peace in his eyes, that knowledge that he was leashed, controlled, and all was right with the world.