Read Online The Story of Owen: One Man's Submissive Journey by Claire Thompson - Free Book Online Page B

flogger or a single tail. Your choice.”
    Owen followed her moves with his eyes as Sylvie opened the bottom drawer of the desk where she kept some of her toys. She pulled out the three items, laying them side by side on the desk. Lifting the slapper, which was made of a wide, thick strip of leather folded over onto itself, Sylvie hit the desk with it, creating the loud slapping sound that gave the implement its name. Owen jumped at the sound, his cock bobbing.
    “That one, Mistress. Please.” Owen’s eyes were burning with intensity, fixed on the shiny leather implement.
    Sylvie nodded. “Excellent.” Leaving the slapper on the desk for the moment, she moved behind Owen. “I think I’ll change your position. I don’t want your hands in the way.” She released the clips on Owen’s cuffs, allowing him to put his arms at his sides, though not for long.
    “Raise your arms over your head. I’m going to secure you to the ceiling. That, along with the ankle cuffs, will keep you just where I want you.” Owen looked up, and she could see him noticing the sturdy eyebolts imbedded in the ceiling, from which she hung potted plants when the space was being used purely as an office.
    Taking the stepladder she kept in a corner for the purpose, along with a chain she kept in her drawer, Sylvie climbed up and looped one end of the chain over both eyebolts. She clipped Owen’s cuffs to the other end and climbed from the ladder, moving it aside.
    Retrieving the slapper, she ran it over Owen’s shoulders and chest, feeling his shudder as if it were her own. She moved behind him, beginning slowly, using the thick leather paddle lightly against his ass and thighs to warm the skin. After a few minutes she aimed higher, hitting his broad back and shoulders, the smacking sound reverberating in the room, accompanied by the sound of his rapid breathing.
    She moved to face him, striking his muscular chest with the leather, which left a swath of reddening skin in its wake. She hit the front of his thighs, careful not to catch his cock or balls with the stinging leather—they’d had enough torture for one day. Again the forbidden desire to cup his balls and stroke his cock beckoned her and Sylvie retreated from it, going again to stand behind him.
    She focused on his ass and the backs of his thighs, slapping the skin in hard, steady strokes, watching as it turned from rosy pink to cherry red.
    After several minutes, Owen cried, “Mistress! Please!” His breath was ragged, his muscles rigid. “I can’t—it’s too much. Please—”
    Sylvie lowered the slapper, though she wasn’t done. Not yet. It wouldn’t be fair to Owen to stop now, not when he was so close. “Slow your breathing,” she admonished gently. “Unclench your hands. Flow with pain, instead of trying to resist it. Think of it like a wave. You can either struggle against it and get pulled under, or you can dive into it, and let it carry you along. It’s your choice, Owen. A conscious choice to accept, to embrace, to become one with the pain.”
    She spoke soothingly, honestly wanting to help him move past his resistance, certain he could get there if he tried. She stood close behind him, feeling his heat. She pressed her body against his back, letting her leather-clad breasts brush against him. Though she wanted to wrap her arms around him, instead she reached for his shoulders. She dug her fingers into the bunched muscle. He was strong and beautifully built. She moved her hands down his back, kneading the hot, sweaty skin until his breathing slowed a little.
    “Are you ready, Owen? Shall we continue?”
    “Yes, please, Mistress Sylvie.”
    Stepping back, Sylvie resumed the whipping, letting the leather land in hard, steady strokes against his ass and legs. And then it began to happen.
    Sylvie was struck with the same awe that always gripped her when she watched someone begin to move into that miraculous place where pleasure and pain no longer had separate