Cum Collars and Gangbangs a London Escorts Submission to the Elite

I am Yoana a known face among the most elite London escorts. Some women dream of red carpets, designer gowns, and champagne flutes in private jets.

Me? I dream of being flown out, stripped bare, and put on display for men who own cities — while I’m on my knees, tits out, cum dripping from my mouth.

So when Cassandra sent me the invite, I didn’t even blink.

“Exclusive party in the south of France. Ultra-elite. They want you as the main attraction. High payout. Total submission. Can you handle it?

”I sent back three words:

“Book the flight.”

Arrival – The Château of Debauchery

They flew me in on a private jet. No passport checks, no questions. Just a limo waiting on the tarmac to take me straight to the estate — a secluded château surrounded by vineyards and security thicker than anything I’d seen in London.

The host was known only as Étienne. French billionaire. Art dealer. Known for two things: collecting rare things including the best escorts, and knowing how to throw a party no one ever forgets.

This party? It was invitation-only. Masks mandatory. Phones banned. Every guest had money, influence, and a hard-on for decadence.And me?

I was the main event — a blonde Bulgarian escort with big natural tits and no boundaries.

The Dressing Room – Prepared Like a Prize

A female assistant met me in a candlelit dressing suite. She didn’t ask my name. She just smiled and said in French-accented English:

“Please undress. He wants them to see you as you are.”

I took off everything. She bathed me, oiled my skin, powdered my big boobs and inner thighs. She clipped diamond clamps to my nipples and laced a velvet collar around my neck.

Then came the heels — tall, black, laced up to my thighs.

No bra. No panties. Just oil, diamonds, and attitude.

She leaned in and whispered: “They’ve heard stories about you, Yoana. They want to see if they’re true.

”I smirked.

“Then let them watch."

The Entrance – A Room Full of Hunger

The main hall was a fantasy — gold leaf ceilings, violins in the background, champagne flowing, and masked faces watching me as I was led into the centre of the room.

A soft spotlight followed me.

Some clapped. Others whispered. All stared.

They saw the tits first — my big naturals, heavy and swaying slightly with every step, nipples erect from the cool air and tension.

I didn’t speak. I just knelt on the black velvet cushion in the centre of the marble floor, legs spread, arms behind my back.

Étienne stood from his leather chair and raised his glass.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said in slow, seductive French, “your entertainment for the evening… Yoana. Touch of Class.

”A chorus of murmurs. Applause. And then silence as he added:

“This horny lady is at top of the rankings for the best escorts in London, she doesn’t just take cock… she devours it. She doesn’t just accept pain… she comes from it. And she’s going to prove it… now.

Act One – Tits on Display, Mouth in Service

The first to approach was an older man, masked, impeccably dressed.

He knelt in front of me, cupped my big natural breasts, and kissed each nipple softly before standing and unzipping his trousers.

Without needing a word, I opened my mouth and let his cock slide in, wet and warm.

The room watched in silence as I sucked him — deep, slow, hungry — letting drool spill onto my breasts as I moaned around his shaft.

When he came, he pulled out, painted my tongue, and watched as I swallowed every drop, then opened my mouth again to show it was gone.Applause echoed through the hall.

I was already dripping.

Act Two – Worship and Whispers

Next, the women came — two of them, elegant and feline.

They kissed me softly. One stroked my breasts, whispering “magnifique escorts London” as she squeezed. The other knelt behind me, sliding her fingers between my legs, teasing my soaked pussy as the crowd watched my body squirm.

They sucked my nipples, slapped my big tits lightly, and fingered my pussy until I moaned loudly enough to make the room fall silent again.

I came with their fingers deep inside me, grinding against them like a bitch in heat.

Someone in the crowd whispered:

“What an escort, she’s fucking addicted to being watched…”

They weren’t wrong.

Act Three – Bound for the Elite

I was lifted by two men and strapped to a padded X-frame, legs spread, tits pressed out for full view. A dom in leather gloves approached. He didn’t speak. Just opened a silver case of toys and began to work.

He flogged me slowly. First across the thighs, then my breasts, watching my tits jiggle violently with every strike.

The pain was sharp. He’s skills in the art of BDSM Delicious.

The crowd gasped when he added nipple clamps and attached small weights, letting my natural tits stretch, swing, bounce.Then came the lube. He pushed a plug into my ass, slowly stretching me before strapping in with a thick black dildo.

He fucked my ass in front of the entire room.

My breasts swung wildly, the weights clinking with each thrust.

I screamed. I begged. I came.

And the room applauded.

Act Four – The Cum Ritual

Étienne stood again. “London escorts are the best sluts, now… let her be filled".

”One by one, guests came forward. Men of every age, build, and background — all with throbbing cocks, ready to leave their mark.

Some wanted my tits — squeezing them around their shafts and coming between them while I moaned “harder” like a good little cum slut.

Others pushed into my throat, face-fucked me until I gagged and drooled and swallowed every last drop.

One man came in my ass while another fingered my pussy until I squirted across the marble floor.

They used me. Drenched me. Worshipped my body while treating it like a shared toy.And I?

I begged for more.

“Please,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “Don’t stop. I’m not finished.”

The Final Act – Owned by the Elite

The last client was a woman. Tall. Stunning. Masked in gold.

She whispered, “You need to be marked.

”She pressed a wax seal onto my lower back, branding me — temporarily — with Étienne’s crest.

“You’re his now.”

And I smiled, cum still smeared across my breasts.

“Good. Let the whole world know."

Afterglow – Bathed, Kissed, Paid

They carried me to a private suite, bathed me in warm milk, and massaged my body until I melted.

Étienne came in with a velvet envelope.

“You’ve outperformed all of the escort legends,” he said.

Inside: €25,000 cash and a diamond collar.

“You’ll return,” he added. “Next time… we take you outside.”

I laughed, took a sip of champagne, and spread my legs wide in the bath.

“I’ll bring knee pads."

Yoana’s Reflection

That night… I became legend.

I’d always known I was made for more than flats in Bayswater or businessmen in Canary Wharf.

I was built for stages, for rooms of power, for eyes that pay to watch a woman break and still beg for more.

My tits were swollen for two days. My throat sore. My ass throbbed.

But I’ve never been more alive.

I’m Yoana.

The cum slut from London.

Big natural tits. Big mouth. Bigger appetite. 

I am escort number one!

And after France?

London feels small.

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