Seven Days at London Escorts Agency Maison Noire

In the heart of Mayfair, behind the discreet black façade of a Georgian townhouse, Maison Noire operated like a fine-tuned luxury machine. To the outside world, it was a boutique lifestyle consultancy—exclusively for the ultra-wealthy. But to those in the know, it was the most elite escort agency in London, owned and operated by two former fashion models who had never quite hung up their heels.

Chiara and Alessia, both Italian, both impossibly glamorous, had once ruled Milan’s catwalks. Now in their thirties and even more alluring, they curated London’s most sexually indulgent experiences for billionaires, royals, and men who never heard the word “no.”

Though they now ran the London escorts business, both women still took select bookings—only for the elite. And when they chose to indulge, it wasn’t just a date—it was a memory branded onto skin.

Monday: Mayfair Ménage

It began with a 2pm tea at Claridge’s. A Saudi prince had booked duo escorts Gemma and Alessia for an afternoon suite session. Gemma, a red-haired nymph with a dangerous smile, wore nothing but a silk trench over Agent Provocateur lingerie. Alessia had slipped back into her model mindset—black Louboutin heels, no knickers, and a hunger that only emerged with the world’s wealthiest men.

They didn’t make it past the first glass of champagne. The prince took them both right there on the velvet chaise—first Gemma’s mouth, then Alessia’s tight, trained body. When he came a second time, it was between their pressed-together breasts, dripping down diamonds and flushed skin.

Tuesday: Chelsea Dinner Date

Eva, a 25-year-old Hungarian fetish escort with a 22-inch waist and a taste for power games, was booked by a Russian tech mogul for dinner in Chelsea Harbour. She wore a latex pencil dress with nothing underneath, her nipples clearly visible beneath the gloss.

They didn’t even make it to the second course. In the powder room of Restaurant Gordon Ramsay, he bent her over the granite sink, fucking her hard while she watched herself moan in the mirror. By dessert, she was back at his penthouse at Cheyne Walk, gagged, cuffed, and mounted on a sybian while his security team watched through one-way glass.

She sent Chiara a selfie later, squatting over a champagne bottle, covered in his cum. “He tipped me in Ethereum,” she texted.

Wednesday: Notting Hill Girls’ Night

Chiara kept Wednesdays for indulgence. No clients—just staff bonding. At a private residence in Notting Hill, she hosted what she called “Midweek Debauchery.”

Ten women. One jacuzzi. Bottles of rosé and toys laid out like weapons.

Mina, the French-Sudanese goddess, ended up with her legs spread over the hot tub’s edge while Tasha, the curvy Russian escort from Moscow, licked her clit slowly while teasing her own ass with a glass plug.

Chiara sat in the corner chair, fingers inside her own wetness, watching her girls writhe and moan like art. The staff didn't just sell sex—they lived it.

Thursday: Knightsbridge Kinks

Alessia got called in for a "black card only" client—an Emirati billionaire who had specific tastes when ordering VIP escorts. The rendezvous point was a subterranean dungeon suite beneath a private residence off Knightsbridge Green.

Wearing only a leather collar and six-inch patent heels, Alessia was shackled to a Saint Andrew’s Cross while the client flogged her gently with a suede whip, muttering filthy praise in Arabic.

She climaxed when he slid a lubed plug into her while whispering his fantasies of sharing her with his business associates.

She left the session with her makeup ruined and a cheque for £40,000.

Friday: The Park Lane Orgy

Maison Noire didn’t do “parties.” They did experiences.

On Friday, they hosted a private booking for a banking CEO who rented the top floor of The Dorchester. Six of her best London escorts were sent: Yasmin, Bianca, Chanel, Mina, Tasha, and Eva.

The theme was “Eyes Wide Shut,” and the girls wore Venetian masks and high heels—nothing else.

The scene? A candlelit suite filled with champagne, leather, mirrors, and naked bodies. Anal sex, oral, double penetration—it was all part of the script.

Bianca took two cocks while on all fours on the dining table. Yasmin sat on a face while fingering herself. Mina was bound to the balcony railing, screaming into the city lights as two clients filled her from both ends.

It went on until dawn.

Saturday: Sloane Street Seduction

Alessia and Chiara had a rare double booking with an old contact—a media tycoon who owned half the tabloid world. He requested a BDSM experience "something very depraved."

They met him in his Sloane Street apartment, both in thigh-high boots and corsets, no panties, no mercy.

The night included strap-ons, pegging, face-sitting, and three hours of orgasm denial. The man came only once—hands bound, cock in a cage, begging like a boy.

“I should print this on the front page,” he gasped, just before collapsing.

Sunday: Hampstead Heights Wind-Down

By Sunday, the girls regrouped. Alessia and Chiara hosted a brunch at their private home near Hampstead Heath. The women lounged naked by the pool, their skin glistening, their bodies bruised with pleasure and satisfaction.

There were stories, laughter, and fingers that lingered a little longer over fruit and champagne glasses.

It wasn’t just work. It was a lifestyle.

They loved the secrecy, the glitz, the orgasms, the chaos. They were addicted to the sex, the power, the whispers behind tinted Bentley windows and backroom club lounges in Soho and Marylebone.

Maison Noire was more than VIP escorts agency.

It was London’s most luxurious secret—a place where fantasy wasn’t just fulfilled, it was designed, delivered, and devoured.

And by Monday, the bookings would start again.

OUR EXCLUSIVE SELECTION OF VIP ESCORTS in LONDON

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