Tuesday, 26 April 2016

Torture Garden - 25th Anniversary

On Friday afternoon I found myself once more on the Virgin train heading south to London - for a special 25th anniversary.  Two and a half hours later I disembarked onto a busy platform at Euston Station, grabbed a taxi and headed for my hotel, south of the Thames.

As much as I'm a Northern Lass at heart, I still love the old city of London - just passing through the streets in the black cab I enjoyed the sights and sounds of the great thriving metropolis.  As Samuel Johnson famously said, "he who is tired of London is tired of life" - and I'm certainly not tired of either yet.  My cab driver, a lovely cheerful Cockney chap asked me if I was down for the weekend.  "Only until Sunday," I replied.  "Oh," he answered, "I thought you might be down for the marathon."  "Marathon," I queried.  ""Yeah, you know, the London Marathon - on this weekend," he laughed.

Bollocks - no wonder my hotel was bloody expensive for the two nights!  "Hmm," I said to my cheeky Cockney cabbie, "to me a Marathon is still something you eat.  Anyway," I added, "I could run 26 miles, but only for a Christian Louboutin sale."  I did have plans for some exercise, but if I was lucky it wouldn't be the type to hit daytime TV.

There was quite a queue to check-in, with lots of running types with colossal amounts of luggage - not something I really understood.  I mean, all you need to run in is a skimpy top or t-shirt, shorts and training shoes, surely?  Anyway, I was finally ensconced in my room and relaxed for the evening, with only a brief venture out for a snack at a nearby café.

Saturday dawned, and I promised to take it easy in order to conserve energy for the forth-coming night.  Nevertheless, I still managed to make a trip to Covent Garden for a bit of a look around.  Sadly, I found, as is usual, more and more of the 'usual' suspects - Starbucks, High Street shopping chains, restaurant chains... I was especially sad to see one of my favourite eating places, Food For Thought, had also disappeared from it's old place on Neal Street.

I returned to my hotel later that afternoon a little sad at the changes, but still energised by my stroll through the city.  I treated myself to a late lunch from Planet Organic and had a bit of a late afternoon kip before getting ready for the Big Night.

The Big Night, on this occasion, was Torture Garden, the seminal London fetish club, celebrating its 25th birthday on the Saturday night at The Coronet Theatre close to The Elephant & Castle.  After my last visit in October for the Halloween Ball, I promised myself an early start to the night, just in case once again it became simply too busy to be fun later on.

I wriggled into my latest latex purchase, my lovely dress from Brigitte More, slipped on my high-heeled sandals and waited for friends to arrive in order to share taxi costs.  By 9.15pm we were heading out of the hotel to find a passing black cab.  I got a few looks from the gathered crowd in the hotel lobby.

Dexi Delite Manchester and Cheshire Escort - Torture Gaarden, London.
We stepped out into the damp night air and strolled down the street, keeping our eyes peeled for the welcoming yellow glow of an available taxi coming through the night.  I became a little more conscious of interested looks from passing cars and pedestrians.  I could hear a couple of the group behind my making a few lewd remarks and suddenly caught sight of myself in a shop window.  "Oh," I thought, "I look a little like a 'lady of the night'."  Then I realised, "Oh... I am."

Dexi Delite Manchester and Cheshire Escort - Torture Gaarden, London.
No wonder I was getting a few looks.

Eventually a taxi arrived and we were dropped off outside the already busy Coronet Theatre.  A brief check through security was not as bad as it could have been - I mean, metal detectors at a fetish club?  Everyone got stopped, either for clothing, boots or piercings!  The club was still only a third full, but it was a promising start to the night.  I was really pleased to have lots of lovely comments from strangers about my dress, and even more pleased to see friends from last German fetish weekend in Essen.

I took the opportunity to have an early wander through the club, taking a chance on getting some photos in one of the playrooms - one is on my website as this week's Picture Of The Week, of course.

Dexi Delite Manchester and Cheshire Escort - Torture Gaarden, London.
Pretty soon the club began to fill up, but I took advantage of the space on the dancefloor to lose myself in the thumping sexual dance music.  I didn't realise, but it was nearly 2 hours later that I went in search of friends and have a well-earned drink.  I found the group in the smaller upstairs bar, and had just ordered a drink when the unmistakable sounds of 'The Jean Genie' hammered out of the nearby speakers.  I was back on the dancefloor with one of the girls, paying our homage to the great David Bowie.  As soon as the music faded, the smooth tones of Cream by the recently departed Prince rolled across the dancefloor, and it was time to keep dancing.  I promised myself that drink straight after the song, but no sooner had it finished than a dance version of Bowie's great 'Let's Dance' pounded from the sound system - that was another few minutes on the dancefloor.

I became aware of someone dancing pretty close at that point - A, a lovely gent that I'd met at a club the previous year.  After the music had finally switched to something I didn't want to dance to, we had a drink together and a catch-up.  I found out that he was in a relationship with a new girl who, although working that night, had given him freedom for the event with only one rule - he was not allowed to 'come' until he got home. "Hmm", I thought, "..that makes it interesting."  I asked the handsome chap if he fancied a wander around the club to see what was happening, to which he duly agreed.

Downstairs in the playrooms there was a little bit of SM play, but the assembled crowds meant that we couldn't get too close.  It was, however, close enough for me to feel something very hard through his think latex shorts.  I realised we were next to the Couples Room, and asked if he wanted to check it out.  He wasted no time in agreeing, and we joined the short queue for the room.  Before entering the room, the Door Bitch requested that A and I kissed to prove we were a couple.  I certainly didn't mind, and judging by the eagerness that A slid his long pierced tongue down my throat, he didn't either.

Upstairs in the Couples Room the dim lighting was just enough to give shape to the copulating couples, but all around sighs and moans escaped wet lips, and the slap of male hips pounding into willing female flesh punctuated the soft sounds with a staccato beat.  My eyes slowly became used to the low light, and I could see more clearly the sexy sights around us - on a circular bed four ladies were being impaled on their lovers cocks. On benches around the walls of the room men sat whilst their women sucked their hard cocks.  In one corner two women were finger-fucking each other whilst their partners stroked them.

Seeing a little room left on the circular bed I laid back, peeling my tight latex dress up over my thighs.  I spread my legs and A dropped to his knees and began to lick softly at my cunt.  Laying next to me was a lovely blonde girl, deep in the throes of passion as her black lover fucked her solidly with a heavy rhythm.  As much as I was enjoying the oral administrations of A, I was also acutely aware that we didn't really have much room.  Spying that an old medical examination chair was available, I pulled A to his feet and I climbed into the leather seat, hitching my legs up wide into the stirrups of the chair.  A resumed his cunnilingus, his pierced tongue flicking delicately over my engorged clitoris.  As my pussy became wet and silken he slipped two fingers into me, stroking the insides of my cunt with a careful precision, all the time keeping up his lovely tongue work.  I felt my orgasm suddenly swelling and when it hit I heard my own moans join the others in the room in a choral cacophony of copulation.

A looked a little distressed at this point, and upon my asking what the issue was pulled down his tight latex shorts.  His thoughtful girl had made sure he behaved himself by locking his cock into a tiny cock-cage, against which his erection strained like Samson to break it's bonds.  No wonder I'd felt something hard against my arse in the SM rooms!  Thankfully, he saw the funny side and was no doubt in for a treat when he got home.  We left the Couples Room - me, very nicely satisfied, and A, very much looking forward to getting home.

The remainder of the night was spent chatting to fantastic people from all over the country, but by 3.00am my friends sought me out to ask if I was ready to head back to the hotels.  It was a great night, but tiredness was just beginning to creep up - no wonder, though, after five and a half hours of serious clubbing.

By 4.00am I was back in my bed, crashing out on my bed but still feeling the tender touch of A's tongue between my legs and the beat of The Jean Genie in my head.

Sunday dawned, and I was certainly grateful that I didn't have 26 miles to run.  By lunchtime I was back on the train heading home to Manchester Piccadilly Station, with more fabulous and fantastic fetish memories to keep me company on the way home.  "A small Jean Genie snuck off to the city" indeed.

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