Fetish catwoman with whip.
This picture was emailed to me by accident. It wasn’t meant for me, and it appeared in my inbox among other “cartoon characters” — what I called anything animated, as I didn’t care much for the art. Then I looked more closely. At first I didn’t pay much attention to the rubber-masked head behind the woman. I looked at her and what I perceived to be a sleek leather mask covering most of her face. Only her ghostlike eyes and full lips were revealed.
First I gazed upon her tight fitting, thigh-high PVC boots with heels that could pierce the skin. My eyes traveled further up, and I admired the bodice that was a smothering corset fastened by leather straps. Straps were also attached to those beautiful boots. Her hands and arms were enveloped in the same PVC material and kept secured by yet another relentless strap reaching from shoulder to sensual shoulder. Her thighs, neck and exquisitely shaped firm breasts were protected only by a thin layer of latex. And in her left hand she held a whip.
I felt strangely aroused. I did have a slight whip fetish… I decided that I was going to let myself unashamedly fantasize about an animated woman. Nobody needed to know. She seemed so real.
I was alone in my apartment as usual. She was the picture of unrivaled beauty, this feline fatale. Even though I could not see her entire face I knew she was gorgeous. She had the body of a goddess, legs so sinful they should be declared illegal in all 50 states. I couldn’t help but long for those legs to be wrapped around me.
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I felt myself becoming the masked creature with crimson eyes that could tear right through her like a blade through soft fabric. I, too, was holding my identity secret in a rubber confinement, yet my skin could easily have burnt right through it with unbridled lust. I wanted her in a way a lost cub wanted its mother when hungry. I needed to run my tongue along those delicious leather thigh-high boots and taste the material as if it were her very skin. I vividly saw us trapped together in a dungeon, she my dominatrix and I her slave forever. She would do to me as she pleased and I would tremble in erotic fear.
And last but definitely not least I beheld her whip – my latest fetish. It became the beacon of my every want, my every need. She could stun me into submission with a mere look but the touch of a whip on desirous skin is like a furious kiss planted with such haste you could only yearn for more. She could pin me down with her ferocious heels, digging into my flesh and I would not be satisfied. She could strangle me with one of her many straps and still I would want more. It was time to stop fantasizing. It was time to taste her venom and relish in whatever punishment she saw fit. It was time to open my eyes and begin enjoying the fruits of my imagination.
If only I could remember where I’d last seen my whip…
Posted 3 years, 10 months ago at 12:29 pm. Add a comment
Vinyl mermaid held in bondage.
This picture takes the bondage scene to a whole new level. This underwater nymph is rapture in all its elegance. Whoever took this photo knew what they liked and captured it magnificently. This is an image of pure distorted decadence. A sick fetish about drowning perhaps? Whatever it is, the splendor of this picture is nearly beyond words for me. Nearly…
She is wearing nothing save for stilettos, a leather neck collar and, my favorite, vivacious vinyl. Vinyl gloves enwrap her arms up to her elbows, a vinyl band surrounds her breasts. From beneath her arched back, like seaweed, another vinyl strap waves upwards in the movement of the water. Her sultry black hair is following the same skyward motion.
She is submerged into the tranquility of water, chained to the bottom with no chance of escape. I am the only one who holds the key to her freedom. This sense of absolute power is enough to render a person completely delirious. My heart beats frantically when I think of the consequences of leaving her in there just a moment too long. In the absence of air she will first panic but a sense of peace will overtake just before she becomes unconscious. This, however, is not the desired result. I just need her to know that I am in control. Her very life depends on me. And so does her pleasure. Without me she will not know the bliss that comes with surrendering to my every whim.
I dive into the water while she remains motionless. I show her the keys to her aquatic prison, taunting her with the idea of release. The air trickling up from her nose tickles my skin as I hover above her. I go up for air and decide on my next descent I will grant her only wish. Before I dive down to the very bottom I stop for a brief moment to kiss her mouth and she bites my tongue, enough to draw blood. I am furious and decide to punish her as soon as we surface. I fumble with the keys and she kicks me in the face. I decided this was a huge turn-on for me and I purposely take my time. I know both of our oxygen deprivation limits, and I will reach mine sooner than her. She was used to this. I finally get her legs free and I moved quickly to release her arms as well. As soon as her one arm was free she was clawing at my face and I wrapped my large hands around her neck and kissed her ferociously again. She surrenders, and I emancipate her from her near grave.
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Once we are both safely on land I tie her up with the chains, and she smiles vindictively at me. I leave the room to put on my rubber uniform and get my whip, leaving her bound to think of her sins. I had no reason to gag her, she never made a sound. When I returned she was gone. But she did leave a note:
“We should do this again tomorrow, I’ve got church choir practice tonight.”
This was one of my favorite pics and summaries here at fetishpicz. Did you like it as well? Do you like vinyl, pvc, or patent vinyl? Visit MJTrends.com and persure their huge inventory of pvc / vinyl materials. Be sure to view their tutorials on working with vinyl material. Looking for more content? Head on over to FetishBuzz where they have fetish photography, blogs, models, videos, and pics!
Posted 3 years, 10 months ago at 12:27 pm. Add a comment
Latex clad fetish transvestite dominating the slave.
The background painted a malevolent image in this picture. The walls are colored in an ever so gradient of purple that which matches the mistresses hair. In the depths of the color collage, was a women, but this women was not just an ordinary women. This bright and vastly colorful women was a transvestite. She looked poised, however, in the depths of her mind she wanted greater control as she sat atop this dominated woman–she who lay motionless in her rubber masked outfit underneath her aggressor. The dominated woman’s outfit grew together from head to foot as she appeared in a one piece neck to floor zipped rubber dress that lay fluttered upon the bed. Concealing her face, she wore a rubber mask that covered everything except for her eyes, mouth, and two holes to breathe out of.
The dominatrix as she appeared, had handcuffed the helpless woman to the iron bed frame using two leather snapping bracelets and some length of indestructible chains, refraining the woman from much motion. The iron bed was dilapidated in most regards and stood quite uneasily erect. The naked frame of the cold, ruthless bed was covered by a rubber material mattress that sat abiding to their most erotic sensational pleasures. Nevertheless, the dominatrix stood above the seemly unwilling woman and placed a tight, coiled rope around her unexposed neck. Now she had complete control over her, forcing her evermore so deeper into her erogenous zone, though never allowing complete orgasmic sensations to fulfill her with ecstasy.
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The transvestite was vivacious in most aspects. She pieced together her outfit in a fashionable attempt to provide just enough detail to keep your senses interested, though enough hidden from sight to keep your mind intrigued. The top that she wore contained materials in great supply, enough to easily cover her arms and her toned, flat stomach, though left nothing covering her chest. The end of the top stopped at the touch of her breasts, as they exposed their every curve enticing the struggling victim.
The dominatrix’s feminine body enchanted the slave as she thrust her hips towards her blackened face. Her skin snuggling rubber pants hung to her every sensual move subduing even the most valiant servants. She knew what she wanted. She slowly moved her pelvic muscles forward until she reached the woman’s shoulder. She clinched the rope tighter as the exotic pleasure arose in her cerebellum. Her knee high leather boots dug deeper and deeper into the unrelenting mattress.
The friction caused by the two rubber outfits atop of one another sparked indescribable sensations that must be prolonged. The aromas grew intensely as their bodies fought the urge to explode upon touch. The impetuous actions had now become to great to overcome and they found themselves, in lieu of impulsive action, engulfed by the most auspicious odor in the air. The walls echoed with pleasure as the rope gradually tightened around the slave’s neck and the exotic foreplay soon turned into just another night of BDSM.
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Posted 3 years, 10 months ago at 12:22 pm. Add a comment
Hot model wearing black and red latex spanking pants.
Upon finding this photo my first thought was what a heavenly voluptuous body this woman has–and how I wish she was totally naked. My eyes carefully scanned the picture some more, and I at once realized that her uniform was actually more appealing than bare skin. I was glad she kept it on. She combined my two favorite colors, red and black – a more sinful combination one simply could not imagine. She was the picture of absolute decadence; an angelic vision of a devilish girl.
She finds herself in a padded cell, covered from wall to roof in shining red rubber. This was quite convenient if a person needs to shove someone violently against the wall without doing damage the paint job. She has on a skin suffocating rubber dress that outshines the best of them. A red stripe gleams off the black material, from her neck all the way down her back, taking leave only momentarily where fish net stockings intercepted the line, to travel all the way down her firm shapely thighs. A similar red stripe makes its journey from her shoulder to her wrist.
Her outfit looks like it should be a natural part of her body, as it was there from birth. Her black rubber gloves are fingerless so that when she touches her victim, they can feel the combination of human skin and synthetic fabric. In her one hand she holds the object of my most deprived fetish: the unforgiving whip. This too is adorned in red and black as is her entire ensemble, including her hair, giving her the look of a goddess on fire.
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Her full bodied butt and breasts are not covered in rubber but were enveloped in enticing fish net stockings, revealing more than meets my requirements. Her breasts were big yet still firm with the nipples still pointing in the right direction. And between the cheeks of her buttocks protrudes the ends of a strap that created the illusion of a little tail like the devil she is. If I had one, it would be wagging furiously now at this bewitching vision before me.
Her eyes say one thing to me: “I am going to make you beg for deliverance!”
Her smoldering hot mouth is so inviting and her ravishing red lips are slightly parted. I wish I could slip my tongue between them just for in instant of sweet salvation. I know this is not an option for me as she is my dominatrix, and I am nothing but a lowly slave who does not dare move without her explicit orders.
I have no idea what she has in store for me tonight, but her sinful smile is assuring me that it will be painful and severe. I have, after all, been a very naughty boy. The air is ripe with anticipation, and I wait silently and tremulously for my fate. When she appears to me something new is being revealed to me. Something I could not have imagined in my wildest dreams.
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Posted 3 years, 10 months ago at 12:17 pm. Add a comment
Naughty latex nun
This irreverent picture had me very excited and definitely appealed to my dark side. I have fantasized about nuns ever since I was a little girl and as I was growing up I was completely convinced that they were all sexually devious women who unashamedly lusted after young innocent girls. At least I hoped so.
Here sitting on a red couch we find two women, one clearly the dominatrix and one the slave. I am not sure which one of these two I would rather be, but at the moment my fetish runs along the lines of impious pleasure, hence for now, the nun. She is exquisitely dressed in an all leather habit and leather gloves. The black crucifix across her chest has already made my knees quiver in readiness to bow before her holiness. She is wearing platform stiletto boots and dark red stockings. Her slave is wearing nothing but her black underwear and I can assume the fabric is cotton. The bottom half of her captive’s head, including her mouth, is constricted by suffocating vinyl and my guess is she is not too happy about it. A tiny tube allows her to barely breathe. I notice that interestingly, the figure on the cross behind them is also strangely depicted in some type of bondage manner, tied up with red rope.
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First I envision myself the as the docile slave awaiting my mistress’s next command. She is sipping her beverage and staring ahead of her. I have no idea what it is she is drinking, I am just the servant. I look at her tentatively and though I am here against my will I find a certain attraction for this woman’s silent power over me. She ignores me completely and turns to me only when she is hungry for sin. This drives me crazy and I wish I could speak, maybe even beg for recognition. I suddenly want to please her and an overwhelming sense of carnal desire rouses in my lower abdomen, lowering its heat into my even lower regions. I want her to dominate me completely and I vow to surrender all protests at once. I need to feel her power over me in the most physical way possible. If she will only put down that cup and rather drink from me. I want to taste a little of that forbidden godliness.
I can now only imagine the enticing pleasure it must be to embody the essence of this holy mother. To have this servant girl wait on my every move. How I would so enjoy the feeling of her skin against the material of my stockings. To feel the warm wet kiss of her breath against the cold leather of my boots. I gasp secretly under my breath at the idea of ripping off what little she is wearing and have her contort and shape herself into any position I see fit. I will fetch my whip and punish her like it was done to the image tied in red rope. She wants it – her eyes tell me that.
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Posted 3 years, 10 months ago at 12:11 pm. Add a comment
Photo of goth girl crawling along the floor in medical mask.
This photo grabbed my interest immediately as I have a particular thing for sultry eyes. Above the surgical-type face mask, her seductive eyes are demanding my attention, eagerly seeking out anyone who could save her. Am I her savior? Or her tormentor? The mask could be hiding an array of facial expressions formed by her mouth and the eyes refuse to reveal any hint as to what her lips are saying. It could be anger–it could be anguish. It could even be pleasure.
Red and white rubber wrist guards could very well also contain a secret of slashes made by an eager blade. Maybe it was an attempt to escape the clutches of her apparent ill-fated lot. Her hands are bound together with securely tied yellow rope and the same type of rope encircles her thighs. Red vinyl boots almost matching the outlines of her eyes reach up to the middle of her calves. Around her head is more yellow rope, this time made from rubber.
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Her captor looms somewhere in the background, clearly not concerned with the fact that she seems to be desperately trying to crawl away from him. Or is she? Can it be that she is presenting herself in one of his favorite BDSM position? Is she perhaps waiting to be ravaged and dominated? Her captor might be an alluring dominatrix who is just waiting for the right moment to enforce a myriad of S&M procedures on this young vixen.
I would like to think she is crawling towards me. Her eyes besieged with passionate want for me. Her nails are short, probably from trying to claw her way out of whatever punishment awaits her daily. She is clearly no stranger to pain. Three solid blocks of colored-in tattoos on her right arm reveals this truth as I am well aware of the extreme discomfort of being inked.
She is crawling towards me and her eyes never leave my gaze. With our eyes locked together I retreat slowly and she follows on all fours. I will take her away from this place if she is willing to come all the way with me. I will take her home and I may even untie some of the rope constricting her flesh. Maybe not. The tension in the air is palpable as we maneuver delicately away from her captor, careful not for him or her to see us. The question that her eyes ask is not one I can answer just yet. We’re almost there, getting closer. Soon, my love, you will find yourself in a new kind of captivity. One where I’m sure you’ll want to stay forever.
We reach our destination safely and I remove only her mask. She still does not speak but those eyes, oh those eyes speaks volumes. In an instant she knew that maybe she should not have followed me. Her lips begin to quiver but I reassure her not to worry. I will take good care of her for as long as it takes…
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Posted 3 years, 10 months ago at 3:45 am. Add a comment
Young woman in fetish bondage.
When you look at this photo, the one thing you must never feel is pity. To understand the BDSM lifestyle is to understand its fundamental message: submission, dominance, pain, pleasure, humiliation and suffering are all intertwined in one beautiful concept. She wants to be here. Even when she doesn’t think so, she wants to be dominated. She wants to be humiliated. And she wants it now.
This picture is one of my many favorites. It encapsulates the contradictory nature of bondage. Here her facial expression and actions tell us that she want to break free. She is pulling helplessly on a chain that imprisons her gorgeous curvaceous body, yet she came to me out of her own free will. The cold steel assaults her skin, threatening to constrict her breathing if she pulls any harder. She is wearing only her black underwear and thigh high panty hose riddled with holes. She appears graceful, even though she is in a desperate attempt to free herself. Her black hair and dark eyes and the delicate frown formed on her brow all compliment the gloomy aura palpable in the air.
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As her dominator, I have to treat her as a slave–she is nothing more and nothing less. She belongs to me completely. Her flesh and her mind is my property, and I decide when she will experience agony and when she will experience bliss.
I decide for now on the former, and I am toying with the idea of getting rid of her little slave girl uniform. I decided to keep it on for now, fighting with the primal urges of a man nearly crippled with longing. This is a careful process, and I should not just surrender to the debauched desires involved in a BDSM act. She is just too delicious to ravish at a whim. She needs special care and attention because once I have a taste of her innocence, it’ll be hard to ever want to taste anything else. She positively oozes with nasty delight.
I make her a promise and say if she stops struggling with her chains I will let her choose the instrument of discipline. Her eyes lower and she humbly replies that she secretly prefers for her Master to do the choosing. This pleases me, and I gently trace my fingers down her elegant neck where soon there will be a leather collar and a solid metal ring for her leash. I leave her alone as she is, scantily clad and chained, sensing the shivers down her spine.
When I come back I see she has tears in her eyes and I remind myself not to feel any pity whatsoever. I have dressed myself in a body hugging PVC suit and have collected a leather whip, paddle, ball gag end blindfold harness. I ask her again if she wants an option and again she says her Master can choose. I approach her to remove her stockings and a sweet smell of fear and anticipation emanates from her skin. She quivers under my touch. Ah, the night has just begun.
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Posted 3 years, 10 months ago at 3:44 am. Add a comment
Latex head to toe
This picture completely took my breath away. As much as I love the naked female body, there is nothing like a tight fitting, almost all covering latex catsuit that leaves everything to the imagination. Here only her two hands and one alluring eye are revealed to an inquisitive onlooker. What could she be thinking as she crouches down, hugging her knees with her right arm and peeking behind her shoulder at the camera? The light creates gleaming streamlines down her back and on her left arm. She looks good enough to lick. Beneath her beautifully curved back I find the object of one of my fondest desires: her firm glistening butt, with the light beaming off the latex material. Beneath that, enveloping her feet, are delicious platforms stilettos so high you could climb them. Her head gear is curious. It could easily be compared to horns. Or the liliripes hanging from a court jester’s hat. Her mouth and face are covered in what seems to be a second world war-like gas mask, perhaps in an attempt to hinder her from talking.
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I find this ensemble all too kinky, and it becomes more and more difficult to restrain my overwhelming urges. Thinking about the sensuous touch of the mere fabric of her attire leaves a tingling sensation in my most private of regions. I imagine my breasts sliding off the smooth surface of her every curve while I kiss her from behind, caressing every inch of her. I will leave the entire costume on for an extended time, feeding my fetishes. I will gladly kiss her boots as if it were her own flesh, stroking tenderly, exhilarated by the delicate touch. I will lie on the floor submissively if she wishes to pin me down with her heels. I am hers for the taking. As she is mine.
She looks incredibly naughty, and the way she only has the one eye revealed reminds me of someone almost sinister. She has secrets hiding behind this black uniform–secrets I long to know. Maybe if I can just find myself entirely entwined with her heavenly body, I will learn what she is hiding. Maybe if I taste her mouth and inhale her breathe she will let me in.
My heart starts racing, and I feel a slight sweat braking out. Is she sweating now? Is she gasping at the thought of releasing herself to me, aching for rapture? If I want to take it all off, I will start with the horned head cover, letting out what I’m sure is her black hair. I will have to carefully peal the latex from her as it would surely fail to just slip off, adhering to her burning, wet skin. I see her nails are long and black. Will they tear into me with resistance when I try to take her into my arms? Or will they caress my face in approval? The air is breathing sexuality and I wish to have her now. But she can leave her boots on. I insist. I’m certain so does she.
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Posted 3 years, 10 months ago at 2:58 am. Add a comment
Behold – a vision in fire. The perfect sacrifice. A sensuous offering for the gods of lust. This exquisite woman in the image is harnessed from head to toe in leather and metal. Her skin is glowing in the faint candle light, giving a sensuous golden appearance. Ah, gold wrapped up in leather surrounded by flames. She is blindfolded and is looking down slightly to indicate her delicate facial features. The spaces between the leather straps clearly show her immaculate figure, her athletically shaped calves, and beautiful round breasts. Her stomach is covered with this tight material that meets the horizontal cover of her bosom in a cross, similar to the one on her forehead. Her head cover is also of leather and spewing forth from it is long leather straps reaching the floor. Her platform shoes show off her slender shapely feet: a long-standing fetish of mine.
Her pose is passionate–her arms stretched above her head say she is confident and spellbinding. She is a witch of the night. She needs not to see because she knows all eyes are always on her. She is the ultimate picture of perfection–a living embodiment of sheer flawlessness. And I swear she will be mine.
But I shouldn’t be fooled by her immaculate exterior, for she hides an inside as rotten as the devil himself. The lengths she would go through, the sordid acts of S&M, bondage and torture are beyond measure. Her reputation far exceeds her. All the more reason that she entices me so.
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My body–no, my soul aches for her absolute splendor. I have the patience to slowly unfasten each and every strap with meticulous care. I will use my hands and my teeth, and if I have to, I will use the fire surrounding her to unshackle her from her fabric prison. She will feel the pain she inflicts upon her victims.
I will use the snakes emanating from her head to tie her hands behind her back so that I have full monopoly of her body to do with as I please. I will cut off another emanation from her head and use it a whip if she doesn’t obey me.
The heat in the air is tangible. It faintly smells of sweat and vanilla. A combination to ignite even the smallest hint of desire I feel for her. She cannot see me but she senses that I approach her. Without doing even the slightest thing she manages to entirely seduce me and I feel myself slipping into a state of delirium. I fall into a state of reverie that lasts for several moments. I feel a warm, hard material pressing onto the skin of my neck, face and hands, yet I cannot open my eyes. I am entranced by the smell and the heat and the inexplicable warm sensation against my skin.
Finally I manage to open my eyes and I find myself bound and gagged by the very ropes I wanted to use on her. She was beginning to rip my clothes off me.
She was still blindfolded.
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Posted 3 years, 11 months ago at 3:39 am. Add a comment
In this picture there are two women who are handcuffed to the cold, rash steel bars behind them. They appear to be in some kind of dungeon and are in need of some naughty punishment. One of the women looked scared and frightened–perhaps it was because she didn’t know what was going to happen, or maybe it was because she was afraid she’d like it. Unbeknownst erotic aromas stained the thin air that soon became palpable to the awaiting dominator.
The appearance of the frightened woman was as graceful as any. She had a very sleek and slender shape accompanied by her ever so colorful blonde hair. She stood there with her weary arms behind her head, leaving her in an extremely vulnerable position. Nonetheless, she struggled to free her hands and place them in front of her, aiding her innocence.
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She had assembled quite a fantastic array of clothing. She had on some netted waist high panty hoes and a tight leather mid-length skirt. The glide of the fabric onto her body demonstrated the way in which her valiant, curvaceous hips portrayed as they emanated from behind the constricting leather. Her top consisted of a hugging leather halter top that exposed the most delicate sections of her being. She gallantly finished off the ensemble with a snap together leather choker that contained a ring for some type of use like a leash–not unlike what a dog would wear.
The second women, on the other hand, looked angry, as if someone had done something unjust to her. She looked as if she wanted to speak out loud and announce the wrongdoings but couldn‘t. As you can see, both of the women were silenced by a piece of black duct tape covering their mouths. As the woman clinched the steel bars behind her, enchanting seduction quivered unrequitedly from within her. She didn’t appear at all bothered by the handcuffs restricting her movement. At most, she simply seemed perplexed about something. Nonetheless, she was ravishing in her outfit.
Her long, dark-black hair draped down upon her succulent cheeks, and her breasts were pushed so mundanely together yet so picturesquely in the same instant. She wore a black vinyl bra along with an ostentatious one-piece leather dress. The dress clung to her body like saran wrap, covering every perfectious curve that she had, thus illuminating the woman underneath the material. To top off the outfit, she wore black vinyl bicep-high arm coverings and a twisted metal-looking choker. Her stare was simply hypnotizing as was her beauty.
They waited patiently standing as I, a man with quite an array of fetishes, stood inanely in front of them. They wanted so badly to be dominated, and I was going to give it to them, fulfilling their fantasies. First I’d start with some soft spanking and gradually move my way to the rubber whip. The mental images were building inside and the eroticism grew. I entered the room with the a paddle in one hand and the whip in the other. It seemed as an inevitability that a long night of continuous ecstasy was in store for all of us.
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Posted 3 years, 11 months ago at 6:48 pm. Add a comment