I'd love to hear your thoughts on this story in the comments! This story is a tad longer than my previous ones, so I hope you can enjoy the extra details!
***
His voice changed to a soft whisper. "Now, Melissa, I want you to crawl around the room for me. I want to see that body of yours move. Crawl, nice and slow, so I can get a good look at you."
The collar tightened around Melissa's throat as she hesitated, and a strong tug by the hand gripping the leash urged her on.
"Crawl, Mel," his voice cruelly repeated.
Tremors ran through Melissa as she started to edge forward, her elbows and knees pressing into the thick rug. She edged ahead in darkness, her heavy chest heaving beneath her, the bounce of her breasts causing further humiliation.
"Keep your head down, Mel," the voice instructed. "I want to see that pretty little ass of yours move when you crawl," mocking her American twang.
***
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking..."
The pilot's routine welcome was drowned out by the unbuckling of seat belts and the customary struggle to retrieve hand luggage from the overhead lockers. Melissa stayed in her seat, unbothered by the rush to exit the plane.
Instead, she turned to look outside at the bleak greyness which typified the British weather she would eventually grow accustomed to. The Arizona native didn;t have any experience with the cold, damp climate of her new home. Her golden tan spoke to Phoenix's near-year-round sunshine, where the cold becomes respite.
The 25-year-old had been accepted onto a master's course at the University of Oxford. Melissa figured she would come to the UK a month early and experience what the British capital has to offer a hot, spontaneous American sweetheart. Not long after landing, she made the journey from Heathrow Airport to her rental in Central London, looking out the window of the taxi at the grey West London suburbia that surrounded the airport.
Not one for wasting time, Melissa figured the best way of experiencing London was with a guide, and she figured who better than a hot local. She spent the first few hours in her rental swiping through Tinder, scanning through the men of London for a suitable candidate. Most were too ugly or too dull to meet her fantasy.
That was until 'Morgan, 29' appeared on her screen. A chiselled jawline gave way to broad shoulders in his profile picture, and his bright blue eyes were gorgeous even through her phone screen. A peek at his bio showed a strong sense of humour, and his workout photos left little doubt that he could show her the 'sights'. For the first time, Melissa's thumb moved with purpose, swiping right.
She let out a satisfied sigh, her eyelids drooping at the thought of having some rest after the long-haul flight from Arizona. Tomorrow would bring the city she had heard so much about, and hopefully a match with Morgan. Her head hit the pillow, and before she knew it Melissa was out like a light.
***
Melissa slowly woke the next morning, thrown by the time difference. The exhaustion seemed to have the upper hand until her phone buzzed with a text from Morgan.
"Hey darling, need a local guide? I'd be more than happy to give you the 'full' tour ;)"
A devious smile appeared on her face at both his humour and the stereotypically British turn of phrase.
She responded, "You read my mind. Are you free this evening?"
Morgan playfully joked about Melissa's directness-- a trait she would later discover was often seen as American in nature. They kept texting through the morning which ultimately led to plans to meet for drinks somewhere called Shoreditch.
Melissa spent the rest of the day in London sightseeing and doing a bit of basic shopping to fill her cabinets.
As the evening arrived, she stepped into her flat's small bathroom with a cold overhead light that managed to highlight every flaw on her tired face. She started by dabbing a small amount of foundation under her eyes, trying to conceal the jet-lagged bags. She added a touch of eyeliner and a subtle sweep of pink eyeshadow to give her face a needed lift.
Her focus then shifted to her outfit. Melissa had chosen a black faux-leather skirt that sat just above her knees, pairing it with a sophisticated, yet provocative, red peasant top. The flat's tiny mirror didn't quite allow a full-length view, but she was eventually satisfied with the glimpses she caught.
Melissa flipped off the bathroom light, slid into a pair of shoes, snatched up her purse, and retrieved her phone to check the time. She had 30 minutes to catch the Tube and find the bar.
***
Melissa descended the steps into the Underground; the London air gave way to a blast of hot, stale air. The Tube's trademark red circle logo whizzed past her as the train arrived. The carriages clattered, loud and impatient. She stumbled as she fought to get past the rush of commuters and onto the carriage, earning her first "Oi" from an unimpressed Londoner. But as the train pulled away, Melissa regained her balance. And after a few stops, sweating slightly but mostly unscathed, she arrived at Old Street Station and followed her phone's instructions to Shoreditch.
Neon lights reflected off the wet pavement, illuminating the trendy bars and clubs along Shoreditch High Street. Melissa checked her phone for the name of the bar Morgan had sent; her eyes scanned the crowded street until she spotted "The Bricklayer's Arms."
She took a deep breath, smoothing her skirt and pushing open the door. The bar was dimly lit. She spotted a guy standing by the bar. He caught her eye, flashing a charming smile as he raised his hand in greeting. "Melissa?" he mouthed. Melissa nodded, feeling a spark of excitement in her stomach as strutted towards him.
"Morgan," he said smoothly, as he leaned in to kiss her cheek. His eyes studied over her face. "You look stunning."
"Thanks, handsome, call me Mel," she confidently replied, tucking a loose strand of hair back behind her ear.
"I love your accent! Shall we grab a table?" Morgan asked, nodding towards the empty booth. Mel agreed and excitedly followed him.
After standard small talk and with the aid of alcohol, their chat soon turned flirtatious. Mel watched Morgan's eyes lock onto her as she spoke. She didn't shy away; she certainly wasn't the type to either, her voice grew more seductive as she closed the small distance separating them. The noise of the pub faded away as they focused on each other.
It wasn't long before their conversation entered dirty talk territory. Mel began to open up about her fantasies. "I have to admit, I'm a total submissive," she teased. "I love being ordered around and told what to do."
Morgan's eyes widened in surprise. "Really?" he asked, his voice full of excitement."I had you down as a man-eater."
Mel laughed loudly at his joke, before a grin appeared on her face. "Yeah, totally," her American accent made Morgan smile. "I love the feeling of being controlled, of being at someone's mercy." She leaned in closer still, her lips almost brushing against Morgan's ear. "I love being told what to wear, what to say, what to do. Anything," she whispered.
Morgan's face changed, his eyes filled with lust. Mel could see the excitement just in the way he shifted in his seat. "I don't think I've ever met anyone like you before," he smiled, feeling his prayers had been answered.
Mel laughed. "That's what you get with an American, I guess. We're not as reserved as you Brits."
"Well, you've caught my attention" he whispered back. "You see, I like taking control, I enjoy making people submit."
Mel's skin prickled with anticipation as Morgan's words sent a shiver down her spine. She felt her nipples hardening beneath her top and flutters in her stomach.
"I would make you do all sorts of things, Mel," Morgan continued, his voice low. "Rule one, I would ban panties so I can touch you whenever I want. Then I'd make you beg for me to take you."
Mel's face grew hot with arousal as Morgan's words painted vivid images in her mind. She felt her mouth watering at the thought of being so utterly under his control.
"I'd bind you with rope so you're completely at my mercy," Morgan whispered, his body smothering Mel's small frame in the booth. "Then you can suck my cock, deep and hard like a good girl, until you're gagging on it."
Mel's lips parted, her breath coming in short gasps as she listened to Morgan's filthy words. She felt her body melting into the seat, her limbs going weak with desire.
"And if you disobey me, a rough spanking that leaves welts on your ass will make you remember who's in charge," Morgan growled, his voice growing rougher by the second. Mel could feel herself leaking into the gusset of her underwear.
***
As the date went on, Morgan leaned in closer, with a seductive voice. "Want to come back to my flat? I've got a great view of the city from my living room window."
She had only just met Morgan, but there was something about him that made her feel at ease. "Sure thing," she said with a heavy American twang.
Morgan grinned, "Great, let's go."
They walked out of the bar, into the refreshing cool air. They caught a bus to Hackney. The ride was short without the day's busy traffic. Morgan's flat was on the top floor of a modern building, with a living room that could compete with Pinterest's finest. As she stepped out onto the balcony, the lights of Canary Wharf and the Olympic Stadium beamed into the sky.
The flat was filled with plants. Mel wandered, admiring Morgan's excellent interior design. "You've got a great eye for design," she observed.
