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  • 26.06.2018
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Something is. Fetish girl party

Sometimes I feel hornier in jeans than I do in a corset. There: I said it. I know, I know. Thing is, I have no idea whether Torture Garden is filled primarily with people dressed head-to-toe in expensive costumes, and in fact their website explicitly states that lots of people make their own outfits. It sounds utterly gorgeous, and I can thoroughly understand why people want to go.
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I Took My Tinder Date to a Sci-Fi/Fantasy-Themed Fetish Party

Something is. Fetish girl party
Something is. Fetish girl party
Something is. Fetish girl party
Something is. Fetish girl party
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I Went To A Foot Fetish Party, And This Is What It Was Like

We were falling in love, and I wanted to try everything. I fell for it just as hard as I fell for him. For a couple of years, we explored in the privacy of our bedroom, taking turns restraining each other and mixing pain and pleasure. And then, another lover of mine D and I were in an open relationship brought us into a whole community of BDSM aficionados. With D, it was all about intensifying sex and bonding together; with the community, it became one of the main ways that I grew and developed as a person. Through strap-ons and crossdressing, floggers and knives, I explored the depths of my gender and the limits of my body. People were being spanked, hot wax was being poured on bare skin, a man was walking around with heavy weights hung from his balls.
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The essential guide to your first time at a fetish club

And more importantly, what would I see or partake in, and how would my brain process that information on the night? Answer: probably. So, one purchased latex dress later — thank you Amazon Prime — and I find myself queuing in the freezing cold outside a run down theatre in South London, alongside a chap wearing nought but duct tape, genuinely not knowing what to expect from the next six hours of living.
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He spends most of the five hour event lying on his back, by the wall, while women stand on his face. When I see him at the end of the night, his hair is matted to the back of his head. Every couple of minutes, he taps my ankle. This is my cue to step off, so he can turn his head, alternating between left, right and centre. They only care about your feet.

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