The Fetish Portal

Fetish 1 a : an object (as a small stone carving of an animal) believed to have magical power to protect or aid its owner; broadly : a material object regarded with superstitious or extravagant trust or reverence b : an object of irrational reverence or obsessive devotion : PREPOSSESSION c : an object or bodily part whose real or fantasied presence is psychologically necessary for sexual gratification and that is an object of fixation to the extent that it may interfere with complete sexual expression (Merriam-Webster)

In our Tribe we use the word “fetish” a great deal. Many of us consider Leather a fetish. Some, boots and tight gloves. Fetish seems to be the foundation of our gear and much of our play. But seldom do we reflect on the actual role that fetish plays relative to our sexuality.

According to the dictionary, fetish has three essential meanings: an object with presupposed, magical powers; an object of devotion beyond reasoning; and an object that stands in the way of full, sexual gratification. I am especially interested in the third definition that states that a fetish acts as an obstacle to “complete sexual expression.” While this may be true relative to the hegemonic confines of sexuality, I view fetish as a portal, that is, as an object that operates beyond logic in order to bestow the gift of unhampered, physical expression. Subsequently, one feels free to explore the body through experience that is not hampered by contemporary, heterosexual morality.

This morning as I pull a half mask off the positive mold, I stroke the smooth, exterior surface of the leather. I examine the miracle of forming vegetable tanned leather. I look at the small, respiratory opening and the overall shape of the mask and my cock becomes tumescent. I do not understand why the object has this power over me. And if I try to formulate a reason, the object loses its grasp on me. The fetish operates solely because I allow the visceral part of myself to come to the fore, quashing the more rational part. This action sublimates a sexual response that falls outside of social definitions. A more primitive expression that leads to orgasm with no simulation to intercourse.

I cum in every mask I make, usually adding my own blood. Occasionally, I piss on it. When I am done, I massage the sticky ooze into the rough side of the mask. Finally, I seal it so that the liquid becomes a permanent part of the leather. Sexual expression utilizing a variety of bodily fluids.

I can remember the first time that I did this. Late one evening, I pulled a mask from the form and left it on the counter. While pulling it, I cut my hand with the blade, bleeding profusely on the interior surface. The next morning immediately after waking, I stood over the mask, my erection pushing against my loose robe. I looked at the dark blood stain inside. Without thinking, I began stroking myself and shot into the mask, a vessel for my cum. And, in a fashion similar to that used to initially form the mask over the positive side, I massaged the negative side with my hands, slowly working in the liquid.

I never know at what point I will baptize a mask. Usually it is in the early morning. Always at an early stage so as to weld my bodily fluids to the object.

When worn, the mask transforms both through its limiting character and through its ability to alter the body’s shape. Apertures limit sensory functions. Actual contact with the skin becomes restrictive, often claustrophobic. In contrast, the new, assumed shape of the masked part causes a feeling of extension into new space. A new skin. As a result, movements are altered both by the struggle within the mask and the liberation without. Surrender to the masking experience has been the basis of contemporary acting exercises, historic theatre, and, more importantly, the foundation of primitive, ecstatic experience.

When not in use, I cover the mask by placing it in a bag. An object of transformative power, I protect it from the mundane objects used in daily life. Virtually everyone who does mask work does this. In fact, this was one of the first instructions I received when I began learning about leather mask making. Unless in use, cover the mask.

At home, I am surrounded by masks in my office. It is my sanctuary where I both work and meditate. They represent the different facets of my nature, a shape-shifter. Above the Buddha on my altar hangs a carved, Kenyan mask once worn during circumcision rites. Its small, relaxed mouth and downcast eyes reflect a guise similar to the one that I assume on the zafu, the cushion.

In like fashion, I have a fetish for boots. When I connect with a boot bottom, I enter what feels like a light trance or drugged-like state, a state where my senses feel heightened. In addition, the boots as fetish objects facilitate the emergence of my sadistic nature. I become hard and immediately feel a rush of power like a strong current in a river. And I give myself to it. Beyond logic or reason, I surrender myself to the fetish and the my position of dominance.

I would suggest that rather than being an obstacle to complete sexual experience, the fetish object liberates the expression of sexuality beyond the confines of social definitions. It counters the contemporary world by allowing entrance into a world more in touch with the phenomenal self. An experience more at home in the “primitive” world than the cerebral experience of Western culture.