Darcy Goes to London

London

Darcy pulled the hood of her raincoat over her head and looked up at Big Ben. She gave it a good few seconds of admiration before turning back towards the ground, shielding herself. The rain was falling sideways against her, quick and sharp, like rubber bands snapping against her skin. She had been in London for two days, and it seemed like the rain hadn't let up once. So far, the trip had consisted of holing up in her hotel room and ordering takeout, but she had to get out today.

"Fuck this," she muttered, her feet drenched, as she headed up the street to a pub called The Red Lion.

It was the middle of the day, but there were still quite a few people inside the pub, laughing and carrying on. She found a table in the back and sat down with a tall glass of beer.

As Darcy looked around at the ornate picture frames on the wall, the rain had picked up outside. It pelted the glass, loud and rushing, almost like ocean waves. She couldn't help but wonder what Florin was doing right now. A small part of her wished that the London version of Florin would walk right into this pub and pull up a seat at her table, but she knew she wouldn't get that lucky twice.

"There's always Tinder," Darcy's friend Anya had said on the phone last night, when Darcy was complaining about missing Florin's company.

"But don't you think that takes away from the... I don't know, the spirit of what I'm doing?" Darcy moaned. "Isn't this all about independence and adventure?"

"Um, independent women still get dick," Anya had said, with such a dry tone of certainty that it actually made Darcy feel a little better.

Sitting here now, at The Red Lion, Darcy realized it couldn't hurt to have a look. She opened up the app store, found the Tinder app, and clicked "download." She took a long gulp of beer, looked at her phone, took another drink, and then shoved her phone into her purse.

"Not yet," she mumbled to herself.

Maybe in a few days.

Maybe if the rain truly never let up.

Two days later and Darcy was getting on the bus back to the hotel, her clothes soaking wet. She had made the big mistake of wearing just a sweatshirt that day and had got caught in a rainstorm, which shouldn't have surprised her. But there she was, dripping and miserable as she stepped into the hotel entrance.

"Oof, forgot your umbrella, did ya?" said the energetic man at the front desk, who Darcy had come to appreciate. Today, however, was not the day.

"Ha, yeah," she said, swallowing down her angry mood. "Hey, is there... can I... can I have champagne sent up?"

Within ten minutes, Darcy had left her drenched clothes on the bathroom floor and was stepping into the hot bubble bath with a bottle of champagne in hand. She had already made up her mind that after this she would order Indian food and watch movies all night. If the weather wasn't going to cooperate, she could at least enjoy the hotel room.

In the bath, Darcy closed her eyes and leaned back. The ends of her brown hair floated on top of the foamy bubbles. She lifted the bottle to her lips and took a long swig, not bothering with a glass.

Her mind began to wander. She hadn't realized how mind-blowing the sex with Florin had really been, how much she had needed that. But still, she felt like something was missing. She thought back to the sex club, to the spanking and the leather, to the chains and the guttural groans. It seemed like a different world to her, a world of thrill and passion. A world of dirty fun and exploration. Right now, all Darcy wanted was for a man to walk into this hotel room and have his way with her.

She slid her hand between her legs, swaying gently in the depth of the tub. As Darcy played with her clit, she kept her eyes shut and thought about Florin tossing her onto the bed. She pictured him pulling down his pants and ordering her to suck his cock. She imagined what it would be like to be rolled over onto her belly and have his hand strike down on her ass, making it burn and sting. What would it be like to have her hands bound while he fucked her? In her fantasy, she'd whimper. In her fantasy, he would rub the red skin lovingly before taking her rough and hard.

The water rippled as Darcy came, sinking down deeper into the warmth.

The next morning, Darcy's head was pounding. She quickly remembered why she didn't ever drink champagne. Champagne always equaled bad news! Why had she felt the need to down a whole bottle? She reached for the water that drunk Darcy had luckily left for herself the night before (somehow) and chugged it down gratefully.

She grabbed her phone, annoyed she had forgot to charge it, and noticed that there were 72 notifications from Tinder.

"What the hell?" she said, in her raspy morning voice.

How could there be Tinder notifications when she hadn't even made a profile?

Suddenly, to her horror, Darcy clicked on the app to realize that she had, in fact, made a Tinder profile last night. The pictures she had chosen were a strange collection of sexy and silly, but apparently seemed to do the trick considering how many matches she had.

When she opened up her bio, however, Darcy's mouth fell open.

"My name is Darcy and I'm traveling the world! No, really. I'm in London att the moment, getting rained on and looking to have some fun wih a cute local tour guide. Is it you?? I will even go to the pub and watch 'football' with you!"

Darcy rushed to her matches and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that luckily, she hadn't actually messaged anyone yet.

"I must have fallen asleep before that part," she said, shaking her head in disbelief at herself. "Jesus Christ."

She scrolled through the messages that varied from "nice tits" to "hey" to a series of emojis that Darcy would never bother interpreting. But one guy stood out.

His name was Oliver, and he was very handsome. He looked almost professor-like, with his thin-framed glasses and sweaters. It surprised Darcy when she read his Tinder bio. He did like the typical things -- beer and fine dining -- but he was apparently also a lover of bondage.

Darcy's interest was officially piqued. She was still a little wary, but when she opened up the message to read the full thing, she was pleasantly surprised. He wasn't creepy, vague, or boring. He seemed... normal.

"Here's my number, if you'd prefer to reach me that way."

Oliver wasn't a professor, but an engineer. He was much cuter in person -- tall and lanky, with light brown hair that was nicely trimmed. When he showed up at the pub to meet Darcy that evening, he was impressed by the way she represented herself on Tinder. A lot of women didn't look like their pictures, but Darcy looked even better. She wore a black crop top t-shirt and a pair of jeans paired with black heeled boots. Her raincoat was forming a small puddle underneath its place on the back of her chair.

"So tell me more about this bondage thing," said Darcy, stirring her cocktail straw. "I'm sort of a newbie I guess you could say, but I'm very open and curious."

Oliver smiled and shrugged. "Hey, nothing wrong with that. Bondage -- what to say? There is something so beautiful to me about a woman tied up, bound. I love watching her struggle against a pair of restraints or even against a gag. Spanking is very fun, especially on a cute bum. The list goes on. I only love it if they love it too, of course. I like finding women who show me new sides to myself, too, or new interests."

This all sounded unbearably hot to Darcy. The greasy pub food from her dinner had helped her hangover, so when Oliver invited her back to his flat, she agreed almost before he had got the invitation out.

"Did you really mean what you said on Tinder? You're out here wanting to watch football?" Oliver said, raising his eyebrows skeptically at Darcy as they headed out into the night.

A loud laugh escaped Darcy's throat. "Um yeah, maybe not so much."

Oliver laughed, too, and opened the door for Darcy as the Uber pulled up.

"Wow, this place is nice!" said Darcy, when they arrived at Oliver's. "You've got so many books!"

Oliver went around and switched on the lights, dimming them down to set the mood. He hung Darcy's coat on a hook by the door.

"Thanks," he said. "I am a bit of a bookworm. What about you?"

Darcy nodded as she took a seat on Oliver's sofa. "I love to read, though I haven't had much time to lately. But I definitely want to get back into it, so you'll have to tell me some suggestions."

Oliver smiled at her as he joined her on the sofa with two glasses of wine.

"Cheers to you, Darcy. And new experiences."

Darcy noticed the mischievous sparkle behind his eyes as she clinked her glass against his. "Cheers."

They cuddled up together on the sofa, sipping their wine and chatting.

"So how do Paris and London compare?" asked Oliver. "What do you think?"

"Well, London seems to be mostly under water," Darcy replied, laughing softly. "But aside from the rain, I think I might like it here a little bit more."

"Is it because you understand the language?" he teased.

Before Darcy could reply, Oliver's hand was on her cheek, holding her face as he kissed her. His mouth tasted tart from the wine, but his lips were so supple and soft. He was an amazing kisser, and Darcy quickly found herself melting into him. Her body already felt hot and flushed.

"Should we go to the bedroom?" he asked, looking into Darcy's eyes.

"Yes." Her voice sounded choked. Her pussy was already throbbing, ready for Oliver and more of his mouth. Ready for his hands, his cock.

The rain picked up in the few seconds it took to walk into the bedroom. It pounded against the large windows. A car honked its horn outside. Darcy could hear the sound of wheels splashing into puddles.

Oliver pressed Darcy up against the wall, kissing her deeply. When he pulled away, Darcy studied his expression, and it looked like he was thinking of how to pose a question.

"Should we have a safeword?" he asked. "I didn't know if you wanted to... if you were okay with..."

Darcy smiled, biting her lower lip. "I'm down to explore. Let's make the safeword... pineapple. Isn't it always pineapple?"

Oliver laughed. "Pineapple it is."

After that, it was on. Now that they both knew they were on the same page, any hesitation they might have had was gone.

Oliver reached for Darcy's shirt and pulled it off over her head. He was taken aback by how big her breasts were. They had been so concealed by her shirt, and now here they were, nearly spilling out over the cups of her bra. He squeezed his hands over them, before leaning in to kiss Darcy's neck and collarbone.

"Mmm," she moaned, and when Oliver reached around to unhook her bra, her breath caught in her throat. She helped him out of his shirt, and they both took off their pants, looking at each other with excitement as though this was both of their first times.

Darcy squealed as Oliver pulled her by the small of her back and began kissing her again, this time maneuvering them backwards until they were falling onto the bed.

Once there, Oliver began to leave a trail of kisses down Darcy's neck until he reached her breasts. He used his tongue to draw slow circles around her nipples until he finally took them into his mouth.

"That feels good," Darcy breathed, closing her eyes and relaxing against the gentle tugging of Oliver's tongue. She always had such sensitive nipples, and this was one of her favorite sensations. Her pussy was wet already.

Oliver raised his head. "You're gorgeous, Darcy."

"Thank you," she said, barely audible as Oliver reached for her panties and slid them off her legs. She was shivering with eagerness and anticipation.

He dropped down to his belly, spread apart Darcy's thighs, and went to town on her pussy. He loved how she smelled and tasted and the fact that she was already so wet. Oliver ran his tongue along the sticky entrance, lapping her all up. When his tongue reached Darcy's clit, she cried out.

"Mmmhm," Oliver moaned, acknowledging that he had found the right spot. While he focused there with his tongue, he slipped two fingers inside Darcy, deeply and slowly. When he started moving them back and forth, sweeping the inside of her, Darcy's back arched off the bed from the intensity of it all.

"Fuck!" she nearly screamed, forcing herself to stay put on the bed rather than shy away from the sensation. It felt incredible, almost too much so.

Oliver loved it. He loved watching a woman come undone like that, and he wanted to make Darcy come. His eyes looked up at her to find that Darcy was playing with her nipples, rubbing her thumbs across the hard peaks.

"Yes, yes!" Darcy was no longer in control of her volume, it seemed. She couldn't help it. When her orgasm started forming in her center, it was over. It consumed her entire being for what felt like eternity, leaving Darcy screaming and shaking. Oliver didn't let up the entire time. He was there for the ride, still fingering and tonguing her, until she gently moved his head away to indicate she was finished.

He sat back on his heels, licked his lips, and smiled at Darcy.

"You're something else."

Darcy was still trying to catch her breath. "You are."

"I'll be right back," said Oliver. "Wait right there."

Darcy watched as he opened the door to his closet, rummaged through a door, and then reappeared. She couldn't tell what he had in his hands, but she knew it was something fun.

"Come here," said Oliver, as he stood by the side of the bed. His tone had shifted, and Darcy's heart leapt to her throat.

She crawled across the bed to where Oliver stood and looked up at him, her green eyes big and eager.

"Suck my cock, Darcy."

Within a split second, Darcy was on all fours, taking Oliver's thick cock into her mouth. She started by running her tongue across it -- it was so long! -- and then ended at the head. She swirled her tongue around it before slowly lowering her mouth all the way down as best she could.

"Look up at me while you suck my cock," commanded Oliver, his tone gentle yet firm. "Yes, just like that. You have the prettiest eyes."

Darcy moaned against his cock as she looked up at him, bobbing her face up and down obediently. Her pussy was dripping. She could feel the wetness hanging from her in long strings spilling out.

"Good girl. You're so good at that," Oliver said, watching Darcy suck him. He loved how she looked with her mouth stuffed full, and how she sounded. No one had ever made noises as adorable as Darcy.

Oliver closed his eyes, listening to the rain and to Darcy sucking his cock. He wanted to remember this moment forever, this beautiful evening with a beautiful woman as the clouds unleashed their fury outside. It was almost too perfect.

"Are you ready for me to fuck you now?" he asked suddenly, looking down and taking Darcy's face in his hands so she was steady, with her cheeks sucked in.

"Mmmhm!" she mumbled.

"Let's get you into position then."

Darcy sat down, trembling.

"Are you okay?" Oliver said quietly, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

"Yes," she answered, just as quietly, but completely genuine. "I'm impatient, and I want you."

He chuckled. "Well, you'll have me. I just have to get you how I want you first."

Darcy looked at him, never feeling more trusting in her life. She was so glad to have met Oliver. He was gentle and sexy, confident and calm. She wanted to stay in this bed with him for days on end, exploring and taking their time. She wanted to see what he would do next.

Oliver pulled out a pair of soft leather cuffs and held them out for Darcy to see.

"Give me your hands," he said, so matter-of-factly.

Darcy watched as he attached one cuff to each of her wrists, before attaching two chains to the latches. Then, he took Darcy and laid her down in the center of the bed so that he could hook both chains to the bedposts at the top of his bed, leaving Darcy's arms completely spread up and over her head.

"God, that's perfect," Oliver said, sitting back on his heels to admire his work as he stroked his cock. "Does that feel comfortable, hon?"

Darcy smiled at his warmth. "It does."

"Good. Since you're just getting started, I'll go easy and let you keep your legs unrestrained. How does that sound?"

"It sounds good," Darcy replied, realizing quickly that it seemed unfittingly unsexy for the situation. "I mean... thank you..."

She wasn't sure how she should address him. She didn't have to wonder long, though, because Oliver stepped in.

"Thank you, sir," he said.

Darcy smiled, writhing around in the restraints as a chill shook across her. "Thank you, sir."

With that, Oliver got in between Darcy's weak thighs and slid his cock into her, inch by inch. He looked down and watched it happen, watched the way her pretty pussy lips stretched out over his shaft. She was so wet, absolutely dripping! He loved that and loved how tight and warm she was, like her pussy had been made for his cock specifically.

"Good girl," he said, looking at Darcy's face. Her jaw was slack as he started to fuck her now, slowly and deeply. "Ah, your pussy feels incredible."

Darcy swallowed hard, her breath coming out rushed, more a gasp than anything. "Your cock is perfect."

Being tied up while Oliver fucked her was even hotter in real life than it was when Darcy had fantasized about such things. She loved not being able to move her arms where they instinctively wanted to go. She loved feeling like part doll, part woman.

Oliver held her legs apart and pushed them back, causing his cock to penetrate her even deeper now. Her pussy was so slick that every time he thrusted into her, it made a satisfying, wet noise that only turned Oliver on even more. He thought about how sloppy she would be with his cum dripping out of her.

Darcy started to shake from his new, deeper position.

"Are you gonna cum for me, Darcy?" Oliver asked, looking intensely into Darcy's face. Her eyebrows were drawn together, her lips parted.

"Please," Darcy begged, whimpering. "Can I?"

Oliver smiled at her obedience and her girlish, adorable plea. "You may."

A few more deep strokes of Oliver's cock caused Darcy to lose it all again, her orgasm crashing through her as she screamed, animalistic and loud. She pulled against the restraints, her back arching off the bed. Oliver didn't let up. He kept fucking her through the orgasm, and just as she was finishing, just as she was coming down, he himself was releasing a load of cum deep into Darcy's pussy.

"Fuuuuck!" he grunted, his cock twitching inside her. His orgasm kept coming and coming, the long hot ropes of cum never-ending as they flooded Darcy's pussy.

Darcy felt like a puddle. She was exhausted from her orgasm and couldn't stop admiring how Oliver looked as he came. His slim frame was more muscular than she had given him credit for, his arm muscles tensing and pulling.

Finally, he had nothing left to give her, and his cock started to soften.

He slid out from Darcy and began to undo the restraints around her wrists, rubbing her skin as he did so. Then, he collapsed onto the bed, panting, and pulled her in against him. Her brown hair was messy and tangled as it fell behind her. She breathed against Oliver's damp neck, and he couldn't see it, but she was smiling.

"Twelve...ahhh....hnng-thirteen, ow!"

The warm, golden hour light was radiating down over Darcy's body as she squirmed over the edge of the bed. It was four days later, and the sun had finally found its way to London, and Darcy had found herself hinged at the waist, as Oliver laid into her ass with some good, hard smacks.

"Stop arching," Oliver corrected, pressing Darcy down on the small of her back. "Stay just like that, or we will have to start over."

"Sorry, sir... OW! Fourteen... fifteen..."