Free The Story of Owen: One Man's Submissive Journey by Claire Thompson Page A

following up with the soft towel. She could feel Owen’s eyes burning into her as she ministered to him, but she didn’t look up to meet his gaze.
    Satisfied she’d done her duty in aftercare, Sylvie pulled herself upright and stared down at her client. “You did very well, Owen. You took a lot today. You may dress now. The session is over.”
    She turned away, eager for him to be gone. She had to think. She had to regroup. She needed to be alone.
    Sylvie sat behind her desk, pretending to be busy while Owen pulled on his clothing. She didn’t look up until she realized he was standing beside the desk looking down at her.
    “Mistress Sylvie,” he began. “I just wanted to say—”
    “I apologize for that kiss,” she interrupted. “It was most unprofessional. I assure you it won’t happen again. Isabel will contact you for the next session.” Sylvie looked blindly down at her papers, cursing the heat she felt in her cheeks.
    “Please, let me speak.” Owen insisted. His voice was quiet but firm, no longer her submissive client, but just a man, a man with something to say. Sylvie looked up slowly and waited, her lips pressed together.
    “I just want to say, it’s okay. There’s no need to apologize for anything. Really.”
    Her cheeks still hot, Sylvie nodded mutely. Owen moved toward the door, turning back at the last moment. “Oh, and one more thing, Mistress.”
    “Yes?”
    “Thank you.”

Chapter 6
    Finally, a Saturday session. Owen could arrive relaxed, dressed in jeans, freshly showered and shaved. It was a crisp spring morning, the kind of day that held the promise of new beginnings. Instead of taking a cab, Owen decided to take the subway and then walk from the Washington Square station to Mistress Sylvie’s townhouse.
    He touched his mouth with two fingers as he stood on the stoop, the memory of her kiss still imprinted on his lips. If his hands had been free when they’d shared that brief kiss he would have pulled her to him, he would have crushed her body to his and never let her go.
    In retrospect, he was glad he’d been bound. It was clear from her reaction afterwards that she hadn't meant to kiss him. It had been a whim, one she obviously regretted. He’d recognized then that he needed to back off, to be careful. No doubt Mistress Sylvie had men hitting on her all the time. Owen was her client, nothing more. He seriously doubted he had a shot in hell with her on any kind of personal level, but hey, a guy could dream.
    Owen pressed the doorbell and identified himself. He stood back, staring at the peephole as if he could see inside, his heart kicking into gear at the thought of seeing Mistress Sylvie again. The door was opened by Isabel. He realized he’d been hoping that once again she would have the day off. Knowing he was alone with Mistress Sylvie during that last session had made it that much more intense.
    Isabel gestured him inside, inclining her head toward him as if to say he was no longer a new client. He was established—a regular. After Owen dropped the requisite envelope onto the silver tray, Isabel led him up the stairs to the dungeon.
    Mistress Sylvie was sitting on the high stool in front of the square of carpet. She was wearing a white silk dress, the bodice of which hugged her luscious breasts. The skirt was long and flowing, and Owen could see the outline of Mistress Sylvie’s shapely legs beneath its sheer fabric. Her feet were shod in white slippers and her thick, shiny hair hung to her shoulders. She looked like a princess in a fairy tale.
    She met his eyes, lifting her brows as she nodded toward the carpet. Recalling himself, Owen reached for the hem of his polo shirt and pulled the shirt over his head. Kicking off his topsiders, he unzipped his jeans and pulled them, along with his underwear, from his body. Naked, he moved toward the square of carpet and knelt, his head bowed, resisting the impulse to kiss Mistress Sylvie’s white slippers.
    She was holding his