A London Transsexual Escort. 257 Pt 1


For a while now, J (a regular of mine) has suggested a threesome with a girl (natal) he often visits, his desire was to be taken advantage of by the both of us.
I was more than happy to oblige and suggested he get to it and arrange it. A few weeks later I received a text, ‘Can you do the 21st at 2pm for three hours, I’ve rented a dungeon in Islington.’
Arriving at my destination, I was greeted by a large blue industrial metal door with heavy locks, which lead down to a basement. There was an intercom to the side but no name label; ‘Hi, it’s Frances,’ I was buzzed in and descended down the red-carpet stairs, opening up into a corridor with a bathroom to my right, ahead and beyond was a black curtain.
Drawing it back I entered a softly lit and elongated Aladdin’s cave, with pillar-box red walls and black ceiling. To my right a large bed and upon the side walls hung an array of every conceivable toy or apparatus of pleasure one could think of, of various sizes, lengths and widths: gimp masks, dildos (hand and plug-in), collars and cuffs, chains, ropes, gleaming medical apparatus neatly displayed in glass cabinets, stocks, restraining table, wooden and leather whips, paddles, a small metal cage and a swinging leather sling chair with stirrups. The Marquis de Sade would have been impressed.
‘We’re down here.’ At the far end of the room J and S were sat up at a high bar table drinking bubbles, he naked and S, wearing basque and heels. ‘A glass Frances,’ ‘Oh yes please.’ I introduced myself to S, a delightfully friendly girl in her late 20’s/early30’s. We spent perhaps half an hour getting to know one another, and whilst J went off to the loo, discussed what were our limits and what we were comfortable doing with one another (most things), however, we’d play it by ear and see how things go; as for J, anything and everything went.
Firstly, we moved over to a wooden cross, restraining his ankles and wrists in an X position, before placing a blindfold on him. S and I walked over to the large display of whips, paddles and canes, I chose a leather strand whip and she, a paddle, whereupon, we took turns applying them to J’s bottom. Steadily, we increased the intensity with which they were administered to his now smarting buttocks until J asked for a break.
Next, we guided him to the leather cushioned table, again restraining him whilst laid out on his back. S went off to explore the medical cabinet, returning with a stainless-steel hand roller with a sharply spiked wheel, like what you’d use for pie pastry cooking. This, she gently wheeled over his chest and around his nipples, I didn’t notice him offering any resistance, despite the contraptions obvious ouch factor, nor was he in a hurry for S to stop.

One person's pain is another person's pleasure.
We took a break from proceedings, more for J‘s sake than ours, recharged our glasses and sat upon the bed, chatting in a most congenial way, as one might on an English village cricket green whilst taking a picnic. 
The dungeon is hired out for half or full days, it's certainly well kitted out and I’d guess at no small cost or investment. It offers shower facilities, fresh towels, music system and a mini-bar with snacks laid on, I admire the entrepreneurship of whoever owns the place.
To be continued...

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