Confessions of a Fetish Model

A photoshoot isn’t just a moment for the model or the photographer. As I pose, I’m very aware that I’m also showcasing the talents of the stylist, the hair and makeup artist and the set designer. I’m the canvas for a lot of people’s artistry and I absolutely cannot let anyone down. Knowing this, I do feel a lot of pressure before a shoot. I have to turn up well-rested and have the stamina to pose all day long. I also need to possess the energy that will provoke the imaginations of the spectators who have yet to enjoy the fruit of our collective fetish art.

This is what is going through my head as I arrive at a fetish themed shoot in an abandoned industrial building on a spring morning. After greeting the team, I enjoy a much needed black coffee as my transformation begins. Thanks to the help of professional hairstyling and makeup, you would never know that I have been up since 5 am. When I look in the mirror, I hardly recognize myself. My ‘war paint’ makeup and big tousled Hollywood-style curls couldn’t be more different from my usual redhead lioness, freckle-faced, natural look.

Although I’ll be dressed in latex for the photos, being a model means that I have to be comfortable with a whole room of strangers seeing me naked. There is no place for self-consciousness, or underwear for that matter, as I change into and out of the selected latex costumes for the shoot.

I notice that the first black dress is a size too small and I’m going to need help, so I demand it. I stand naked as two guys drag the dress up my thighs. I breathe in. Now, this is what I call restraint; it’s tight but manageable. I feel as though it won’t be too difficult for me to give evil domme stares to the camera now.

When I’m all zipped up, they help me into a pair of mega high heels that are no way designed for walking in. Heels are for photos and fucking, I say. But despite this, I still feel powerful when I’m wearing them.

After gaining a few inches, now I’m now taller than the entire production team. Feeling like a giantess changes my body language as I begin to pose. Am I the same person who turned up in Converse and a tracksuit just a couple of hours earlier? It doesn’t seem like it. Now, I’m Femdom Extraordinaire, about to conquer the world. You will do as I say, I think to myself as I strike my well-rehearsed fetish poses.

My state of commando underneath the latex makes me so horny. I’m almost lost in my own perverse fetish delirium when the photographer declares that she has the shots she was after. Now it’s time for a costume change.

When I’m naked again, I do wonder if the crew notice my engorged labia or the trickle of nectar on my inner thighs. As I stand there naked, I can’t help but feel submissive as they undress and dress me again. I’m briefly obliged to follow their instructions before I return to my dominant, fetish poses. Then, I can continue with my mission to provoke the perverse imaginations of all those spectators who have yet to fall under my fetish spell. Although a photoshoot is a moment for everyone on set, at the precise moment when I’m devouring the lens, it really is just about me.

 

-Venus O’Hara

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