We got a user send us some Fetish Party Halloween Pictures.
Happy Holidays!
Notorious is a cliché we can avoid, we all know where we are when we can hear the buzz of Patpong in the background, the secretive opening hints at what is to come. The ascent is full of pictorial promise, tastefully shot girls in restraint, action, play. as we walk in the darkness embraces us, shadows thrown at us by cages and whipping stools prod and push us towards the centre of attention. the sound is electro, gothic. The air is thick and acrid, the eyes still struggle to peer through the smoke, until they are arrested the smack of blonde being paraded towards the Crux decussata, and incarcerated by the determined look on the face of the Masked Man. The room is gripped by the proceedings as tightly as she is by her shackles, the trepidation on her face is cast acerbically by the flaming wax in her hand, the third candle spitting menacingly at her pussy. The tingling begins, for her and for us as he slowly warms her up to her punishment, slowly building the force and the pressure until we reach the clichéd crescendo; brutal whacks of the whip that make my own skin wince. For her this is all a prequel; as she is led away to a dark sequestered world to be worked on by a gang of professional nymphs; their shadows and moans punctuating the rest of the evening…
Back to the DJ, pumping out baneful bliss he has a ringside seat of what turns out to be the star of the show, the Party Maker. Ensconcing himself in his awkward looking triple-ringed cockwear is a cumbersome affair, hardly the ultimate precursor to excitement, but things change rapidly as wrists are bound to the cage. His stocky frame is slowly subdued by a trio of minxes, who’s enthusiasm warms in tandem with the skin on his buttocks. This guy takes a lot, most eye-catching is the harsh treatment of his genitals as Foxy Minx #1, clad in aggressively tight black Lycra, brandishes her nail-spiked leather glove. Pulling no punches, she unceremoniously scarifies him (I didn’t know there were nails in it…) while his back is embellished with dripping wax; his nipples yanked by clamps – courtesy of Foxy Minxes 2 and 3. This raises the bar for the evening and things level out into random play and curiosity. As the excitement of the private party subsides, the professionals’ competitiveness dulls and they reclaim their space. The road to the toilets is paved with debauchery, and while the smack of blonde is barely visible in the darkness beyond the hanging beads, the sound of her agony and ecstasy is hard to miss, incited by no less than 5 nymphs in a savage tryst. Time for my departure from the darkness down to the depths outside, and all the broken promise it contains.
L
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