The Story of Owen: One Man's Submissive Journey Read Online Free Page A

cases even more aware, because I don’t have the fog of lust or endorphins confusing the issue.”
    She drew the leather slapper in a circle around Owen’s erect shaft and lightly tapped his balls, making him jerk in his restraints. “So, as I was saying…” Mistress Sylvie smacked the side of his cock and again Owen jerked, drawing a sudden sharp breath. “You don’t need a specific word. You just talk to me, okay? And if you aren’t in a position to speak, open and close your hand, like this.” She demonstrated, closing her free hand into a fist and then opening it again. “Is that clear, slave Owen?”
    Just as he started to say, “Yes, Mistress,” she struck him suddenly, a sharp sting to his left nipple. “Ah!” he ended up shouting instead, as much from surprise as pain. She struck his right nipple even harder and Owen bit his lip to keep from shouting a second time.
    “I asked a question…” Mistress Sylvie continued to smack him with the crop while Owen struggled to catch his breath.
    “Yes, Mistress Sylvie. Yes!”
    “You feel the pain, and it hurts, and yet it’s perfect, is it not? It’s as if your skin has been asleep, and now suddenly it’s awake, wildly awake, every nerve tuned and sharpened, waiting to be played like a musical instrument. You’ve been silent all this time, your whole life, waiting to be taught how to sing your pleasure and your pain.”
    Mistress Sylvie’s voice was lilting, her accent adding music to the poetic words, but beneath the poetry was a truth that resonated with something deep inside Owen’s soul.
    Yes, he’d been waiting, all his life, for this—precisely this.
    Again, do it again.
    The Domme complied with his silent wish, cropping every inch of available skin, though she avoided his bobbing cock and aching balls. The cropping hurt, and yet it didn’t. Or rather, it hurt, but the pain wasn’t anything like stubbing your toe or bumping your head. There was a fierce sweetness to the pain, a pleasure so sharp and strong it took his breath away.
    “Is it good, Owen? Is it what you hoped for? What you dreamed of?” Mistress Sylvie’s voice was a low, sensual purr.
    “Yes, Mistress,” he whispered devouring with his eyes the beautiful imperious woman standing before him, eyes flashing, hair flying as she cropped him. “God, yes.”
    A part of him wanted to be let down from the cross. He wanted to push Sylvie Dubois to her knees and thrust his rigid shaft deep into her throat. He wanted to take her into his arms and kiss that luscious mouth. Mentally he shook his head at these thoughts. They were not lovers. She was being paid to do this, and there were boundaries neither would cross.
    Owen closed his eyes, letting the sensation of stinging leather mingle with the thrill of the cuffs holding him fast against the smooth wood. He was naked and fully restrained, at the mercy of an incredibly sexy woman who didn’t question his need for this. On the contrary, she understood completely.
    “I’m going to increase the intensity now, slave Owen. Are you ready for that?”
    Owen swallowed and nodded, hastily adding, “Yes, Mistress,” when she started to frown.
    “Yes, you are,” she pronounced. “And so—” Without warning, Mistress Sylvie smacked the head of Owen’s cock with the crop.
    “Ah!” Owen shouted, as pain exploded through his nerve endings. He could have said stop . He could have said, enough! But Owen said nothing more. He felt sweat beading along his forehead and upper lip. He was clenching his hands into fists and his heart was going mad in his chest.
    “Good boy,” Mistress Sylvie murmured, leaning close, the intoxicating scent of her perfume again reaching his nostrils. She brushed her lips over his cheek, the movement so light and quick that he wondered if he’d only imagined it.
    Stepping back, she began to smack his inner thighs with sharp, stinging blows. “Slow your breathing,” she said, though she didn’t stop hitting