Monday, 17 April 2017

Easter in The Pleasuredome.

My Easter Bank Holiday weekend started exceptionally early.  On Wednesday afternoon I packed my case and headed south for two days with friends at the Ess & Emm bed and breakfast in Warwickshire.  It was great way to begin the weekend, and even better when seven of us gathered for a dinner party on the Thursday night, and as we'd all been participants in the fetish scene for over twenty years, spent some time reminiscing about old escapades.

Friday morning arrived, however, and I was heading off again - this time further south to London.  The lovely Zara DuRose was holding one of her famed fetish parties in the city, and I was looking forward to being there.

Hold on, I hear you say... isn't this the weekend of the Fetish Evolution weekend in Essen, Germany?  It most certainly is, and after last year's brilliant time there I was determined to go back this year.  However, as the organisers were delaying the release of tickets and hotel accommodation, I had to make a decision to 1) abandon the Essen plans and opt for Zara's party instead or 2) hold on and hope that the Essen party was actually going to happen.  The decision was made for me.  The limited tickets for Zara's party were rapidly selling, and in equal measure flights to Düsseldorf airport were increasing in cost daily.  By strange coincidence, just as I made my choice and booked the hotel and tickets for London, the Essen tickets became available on the same afternoon.  Oh well, maybe fate had offered a helping hand.

So, at 10.00am I was arriving at my hotel on London's Seven Sisters Road instead of landing at
Düsseldorf.  I wasn't too dismayed, though - Zara's parties are legendary for their professionalism and as always plenty of playing is encouraged.  With the party starting on Saturday night, however, I still had plenty of time to kill - and London is a great place to do it.

First stop then - Camden, and the famous alternative market.  The market may not be as good (to me, anyway) as it was in it's pre-fire heyday, but it remains a great place to go.  Firstly, I had to get there.  No worries - I'd done my homework.  A No.29 bus would take me from just outside the hotel to Camden for a few pounds it appeared.  Leaving my bags with the hotel staff (10.00am was too early to check-in), I made my way to the bus stop.

A No.29 bus duly arrived and I stepped on board, brandishing my £5 note.  "A ticket to Camden, please," I smiled, handing over my money.  The bus driver looked at me.  He looked at the money in my hand.  I looked at the £5 note in my hand, wondering if I needed more.  I looked back at him.  He looked back at me.  "You can't pay with money on a bus," he said, doing his best not to sneer at my ignorance.  I looked down the bus at rows of passengers, all staring at me like I'd got onto the bus naked.  "I'm sorry, what do you mean?" I asked.  "You can't pay with money - you have to buy a travel pass," he replied, bored already with the explanation, as though he was teaching a sleepy tortoise how easy 2+2=4 is.  "A travel pass?"  I queried.  I mean, in Manchester you can still get onto a bus and pay with pigeons and twigs (I think).  "You need to go and buy a pass - down there," he waved in the vague direction he was travelling down Seven Sisters Road.  I was check-mated, with no move left.  I stepped off the bus.  He closed the door and it slowly pulled away, the passengers staring at me through the passing windows like I was a freak.  "Did you see that?"  "She tried to pay with money!" I could see them chattering in amazement.

I stomped off down Seven Sisters Road, hoping I'd see something that made sense.  I found a small grocery store.  I went in and found and a friendly Asian chap.  I explained my predicament.  He smiled and opened a large file, as though (appropriately, seeing as it was Easter) revealing an ancient manuscript from Biblical times.  He showed me the magical pass that the bus driver was speaking of.  'Oyster Card' it said.  Hmmm, I thought, like oysters are known for travelling vast oceanic distances and finding their way to mythical breeding grounds.  Yes, that made sense.  No matter, it was soon in my possession.  An expensive pass that allowed me onto any bus, even though I only wanted to get on one. 

Dexi Delite Manchester and Cheshire Escort - and Oyster Card
Soon I was back on a No.29 bus and heading towards Camden.  It was already busy, but I love the vibrant and melting-pot atmosphere.

Dexi Delite Manchester and Cheshire Escort -  Camden, London
I wandered slowly down the main street, popping into shops that caught my eye.  There was, as always, plenty of shops selling trinkets (and tat, if I'm honest), but the tourists seem to keep these places in business.

Soon, however, I was at the market itself.  I already had a list of the places I wanted to visit, so was able to scoot past many of the stalls and shops without slowing to check them out.  I found Collectif Clothing, suppliers of great vintage-style outfits, and spent some time (and a bit of money) in there.  From there it was short walk over to Cyberdog - I needed a new bag and wondered if the outlandish store would have something appropriate.


Dexi Delite Manchester and Cheshire Escort -  Camden Market, London.
Punky, cutting edge and futuristic, but they sadly didn't have what I wanted, although they did have a soap named with me in mind.


Dexi Delite Manchester and Cheshire Escort - Dexi Delite soap.
Next up was F.A.B. - the Fetish Alternative Boutique.  I found it nestled in a row of shops at the north end of the market.  Recently opened, I was intrigued if there would be something to spend some money on.  I wandered in and found a handsome chap behind the sales counter.  We began chatting, and in one of those bizarre cases it quickly dawned on us that as much as we knew all the same people in the fetish scene over the last two decades, we'd never bumped into each other.  It turned out he was indeed the Max Deviant - an (in)famous fetish model and punk, a gent who hung out with The Clash in their London Calling heyday and who played pool with Metallica on their tours.

It turned out to be a long lazy afternoon, only broken when when I popped to the shops to get a bite to eat and some beers and went back to chill with Max again.


Dexi Delite Manchester and Cheshire Escort - Camden Market, London.
By 5.00pm though I was heading back to find my No.29 bus for my trip back to the hotel.  It was a quiet night afterwards, as Saturday was going to be a long day.

Dexi Delite Manchester and Cheshire Escort -  Camden Market, London.
Saturday was another early start - once again heading for more crowds, but this time on Oxford Street.  yes, I still needed a bag, and some new make-up.

Dexi Delite Manchester and Cheshire Escort - Oxford Circus, London.
Firstly, a stop at Debenhams - quite a step in the opposite direction to the small independent stores I'd been visiting at Camden market the day before.  There was a good reason though - Debenhams in London is currently the only retailer in the UK that has the Kat Von D make-up range.  As well as being a gorgeous lady, her range is entirely cruelty free.  I found the concession in the huge store and tried on pretty much the whole array of wonderful lipsticks.  I ended up with four, as I had to narrow it down from the ten or so that I actually wanted.

Afterwards, I couldn't help myself but check out the shoe department in nearby Selfridges - which turned out to be a huge disappointment.  I left Selfridges and realised I was pretty hungry by that point.  Oxford Street seemed to offer very little.  I wandered into John Lewis and continued my bag hunting and found a rare delight, hidden away in the store.  Comptoir Libanais is a fantastic Lebanese restaurant up on the fourth floor of the department store.  The food and staff were simply brilliant, and a wonderful change from the usual Oxford Street fare - I can't recommend this enough if you are in Central London and in need of some healthy and fabulous food.

Dexi Delite Manchester and Cheshire Escort - Comptoir Libanais @ John Lewis.
From there it was a slow walk back the Oxford Circus tube station.  I am, however, pleased to report that I finally got the bag I wanted, from a small store near the tube station - so the trip to face the swarming crowds of central London was worth it.

The remainder of the afternoon was spent relaxing in the hotel and preparing for the big night ahead.  I had chosen to wear my golden-nude Kiku corset with a new matching skirt and neck corset. Jimmy Choo high-heeled sandals would complete my outfit.


Dexi Delite Manchester and Cheshire Escort -  Dressed the party.
It was a fifteen minute taxi ride from the hotel to Blundell Street, where the party was being held.  I wanted to be there early, and arrived just 30 minutes after the doors officially opened.  I handed in my coat to the cloakroom attendants (which was not going to be my last visit to them, it transpired) and headed deeper into the club.  It was already quite busy, with the early arrivals already in full-on party mode.  Heavy, sensual dance music oozed from the speakers in the main room.  Partitioned off behind diaphanous curtains were two play areas - one helpfully furnished with a bed large enough for more than a few people.  Upstairs were two more play areas, furnished with various restraint furniture for those with a more BDSM requirement for play.

The club quickly filled, and it soon became apparently clear that I wasn't the only one that had shunned the Essen weekend.  Numerous fetish friends arrived, and I spent a good portion of the early part of the night catching up with their recent exploits.  Midway through the night it was time to hit the dancefloor.  I decided to take off my skirt and handed it over to the cloakroom attendants for safe keeping, leaving me now in just my transparent corset, some very brief panties, neck corset and my high heels.  A little more undressed, I lost myself in the thumping, hypnotic and sexy tunes that pumped from the speakers.

Something else was also becoming apparent, however.  Two solid days in my high-heeled boots and now my Jimmy Choo sandals was taking it's toll on my aching feet.  I sought out a chair and sat down to rest my tired toes.  A handsome, swarthy long-haired gentleman offered to massage my feet - I wasn't going to say no.  He rubbed each foot in turn, sending a soothing bliss through my legs.  Slowly he worked his way up to my calves, deeply massaging the aching leg muscles.  His ministrations carried on to my thighs, and I felt the pressure of his strong hands on my inner thighs.  I spread my legs a little, and saw his eyes widen at the glimpse of the curves of my cunt under the sheer, clinging and skimpy (and rather damp) gusset of my panties.  As he pondered what his next move should be, I decided to make the choice easier.

I peeled off my panties, leaving my legs spread as I laid back on the chair.  I was aware of people crowding closer for a better view of my cunt between my spread-eagled legs.  He lowered his head to my pussy, and I felt his soft tongue tracing a pattern around my clitoris and pussy lips.  A probing finger tenderly eased into my wet cunt, and he gently and slowly finger-fucked me whilst licking softly at my engorged clit.  I felt my pleasure building slowly, swirling and rising like an incoming tide.  I became oblivious to the watching crowd, concentrating instead on enjoying the sensations that were flowing through my body.  My orgasm built and crashed over me, my tight cunt contracting on his strong fingers and my hips bucking uncontrollably against his lips.

As my muscles tensed up I felt a sudden release around my tightly-corseted waist.  It was only as my manly masseur sat back, mission accomplished, that I realised I had ripped my corset with the strength of my orgasm.  Oh fuck.  A quick check revelaed that one panel had split completely, making it pretty much un-wearable.

I thanked my un-named lover for his attention and headed to the toilet to check out my attire.  Yes - like me, it was a bit fucked.  I took it off and handed it over to the cloakroom attendants, who by now must have been wondering what else I could take off.  I was now just in my high heels and neck corset, my panties having been discarded somewhere in the club when I was sat down.

So, I spent the remainder of the night pretty much naked, but thoroughly enjoyed dancing in the heaving dancefloor crowd, my nipples and tits being constantly brushed by soft leather or slippery latex as bodies moved against me.  I was in this state when I bumped into yet another old friend - Rubber Ron, the man behind the famous Submission club that I used to visit regularly in my early years in the fetish scene.  We had a lengthy chat, and I was amazed to find he was spending a fair bit of time in Manchester.  We promised to keep in touch, and I'm already looking forward to seeing him again and also what he has in store for Manchester itself.

As 4.00am approached I decided it was soon going to be time to seek out a taxi, so began saying goodbye to friends.  One, as I approached, said "I thought you might want these back - I rescued them from the chair where you left them."  It was my panties.  I slipped them back on, a ritualistic step back to normality.  I agreed to swap them for a quick snapshot taken on his phone - but once he'd sent it to me it turned out a little skewed thanks to his inebriated state...


Dexi Delite Manchester and Cheshire Escort -  Undressed for the party.
Finally, with all my goodbyes said, I was outside in the chilly night air, but there was still time for one last photo before the taxi arrived.


Dexi Delite Manchester and Cheshire Escort - taxi time.
It was 5.00am when I finally clambered into bed.  Another superb Zara DuRose party, and a fabulous trip to London, too.  A great Easter weekend, in other words.  I hope you all had an equally good time!


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