When I was a little girl growing up in Shenandoah Valley, Virginia, I wanted to be a veterinarian because I loved cats. Later, when I found out that meant I'd have to see the literal inside of a cat, I scrapped the idea. Around the age of 17 or 18, I decided I wanted to be a model. At the time, I had no idea fetish modeling even existed. That all changed in when I turned For almost three years, I'd been doing admin work and payroll processing for a small local company that hired a mix of former convicts and active junkies to go door to door selling meat from off the back of a truck.
It wasn't exactly glamorous work; however, I did manage to pick up a few modeling jobs on the side. One day, I managed to book myself a print model gig in Orlando where I'd be traveling β and to be honest, I was so excited that I scanned the contract without really reading through it.
The shoot required me and another model to put on nylons and have our legs tied down while our stockinged feet were tickled. Had I read the contract, I would've known this! The other model told me she did fetish modeling full-time and that I could make a career out of it.
I went back to Virginia, quit my job, packed my bags, dumped my boyfriend, said goodbye to my family, moved to Orlando, and began trying to book myself for fetish film content. Soon, I was booking modeling work for tickle-related shoots and starting camming from a local dungeon called The Woodshed Orlando where I could rent space during the week when they weren't running a fetish club.
Once inside, clients could choose between purchasing public and private foot worship sessions with one of the models. We'd usually have six to eight models and host between 10 and 15 guys at each party. Last year, I stopped hosting the parties because I realized management just isn't my thing. Trust me, I know about strange, and this isn't it.
