Ulysses and Sophia part 15
Ulysses hung limp in the suspension of the sapphire blue bungee cord, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. The blindfold remained tight over his eyes, turning the office into a void of sound and sensation. His feet, still wet from Sophia’s attention, throbbed with a mix of residual ticklishness and warmth. He could hear the rustle of fabric as Sophia moved away from him, her bare feet padding softly against the pink wool rug.
"I think we need something more," Sophia’s voice came from across the room, smooth and laced with a terrifying excitement. "I’m going back to the store. I’m going to find a toy that is perfectly suited to the position you’re in right now."
Ulysses swallowed hard, his throat clicking in the quiet room. The position he was in—suspended, helpless, blindfolded—left his imagination to run wild. His eyes widened behind the white handkerchief, darting back and forth in the darkness. A toy suited for this? He pictured heavy leather straps, clamps, or perhaps a riding crop. The thought of her returning with a whip made his muscles tense against the bungee cord, the elastic creaking slightly as he pulled his knees up in a defensive reflex.
"Don't worry," Sophia cooed, her voice drawing closer again. He felt her breath ghost over his ear. "The toy I have in mind will certainly sting, but it won’t cause any serious harm. It’s the perfect torture tool, really."
"Torture?" Ulysses whispered, the word barely audible.
"Precisely," she hummed, patting his cheek with a manicured hand. "Be a good boy and wait here. I won't be long."
He heard the distinct sounds of her dressing—the slide of silk stockings, the snap of a bra clasp, the rustle of her professional skirt being zipped. The air shifted as she moved toward the door. There was a pause, and then the sound of lips smacking the air.
"Mwah," she blew him a kiss playfully. "Don't go anywhere."
The heavy office door clicked open and then shut with a definitive thud. The lock turned with a sharp metallic snap, sealing him inside. Ulysses was left alone in the silence, suspended in mid-air, the only sound the low hum of the building's ventilation and the frantic beating of his own heart.
Time seemed to stretch and distort in the darkness. He tried to gauge how long she had been gone, counting the seconds in his head. He remembered the duration of her previous trip to fetch the vibrators, a span that had felt like an eternity then and felt even longer now. The sweat on his body began to cool, making him shiver slightly in the office's air conditioning. He flexed his fingers, trying to keep the circulation going, the bungee cord swaying gently with his movements.
Just as he estimated the time had matched her previous absence, the lock clicked. The handle turned, and the door creaked open. Heels clicked sharply on the laminate floor—a staccato rhythm that approached him with predatory intent.
"I'm back," Sophia announced. Her tone was gleaming with sadistic delight.
Ulysses stiffened. He heard a swishing sound, like multiple thin strands cutting through the air. *Swish, swish.*
"Recognize this sound?" she asked.
"No, Mistress," he stammered.
"It’s a martinet," she said, letting the name roll off her tongue. "A classic little beauty."
Ulysses’s blood ran cold. He knew the device. He had read about them in his more curious moments, descriptions of small, multi-tailed whips used for discipline. He was mortified, his face flushing hot beneath the blindfold. He recalled the specific details—the leather tails that didn't thud like a heavy whip but stung sharply, like a swarm of bees attacking the skin all at once. They left angry, red stripes and raised welts, surface-level pain that looked devastating but healed without permanent damage. The idea of being on the receiving end of that, while unable to see or defend himself, made his stomach churn with a cocktail of fear and dark arousal.
"Listen closely," Sophia commanded, snapping the whip through the air again. The *crack* was sharp and loud, making him flinch violently. "Danish oiled wood handle. About a foot and a half long. Nice and heavy in the hand."
She stepped closer. He could smell her perfume mixed with the faint scent of leather.
"And the tails," she continued, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Twelve of them. Soft, pliable leather the color of cinnamon sugar. They look so innocent, don't they? But they bite."
Ulysses gripped the bungee cord above his wrists, his knuckles turning white. He imagined the cinnamon-colored tails splayed out, ready to strike his exposed skin. The suspension left his torso, thighs, and ass completely vulnerable. There was nowhere to hide.
"Please," he whimpered, his body trembling.
"Shh," Sophia hushed him. He felt the soft brush of the leather tails against his bare shoulders, a feathery tease that belied the sting to come. "Just feel. Remember?"
She trailed the martinet down his back, over his bruised, bottom, ans down the back of his legs and thighs. The leather was cool against his overheated skin. After that, Sophia walked in front of him and slid the whip down his collarbone, heavy pecs, and toned six-packed stomach He gasped, his breath hitching in his throat as the tails brushed over his penis and testicles.
"Perfect for a suspended toy like you," she mused. "Every inch of you is accessible. I can paint you with little red stripes wherever I please."
Sophia walked behind him again and pulled the whip back, the air whistling as she did. Ulysses squeezed his eyes shut tighter behind the blindfold, bracing himself for the first bite of the cinnamon leather. Then he squealed like a pig as his boss lashed the backs of his hands, four times, using two back hand, and two front hand motions. He had never been stung by a bee before and as such was not prepared for the sharp fiery sensation of the whip’s tales hitting his skin and panting deep into his nerves. He continued, whipping him without pause, hitting the top of his forearms first, then the lower forearms next, then his sensitive elbow pits along his elbows, which made him holler even louder. Ulysses’ biceps were targeted next, and he felt the Sharp sting deep in his muscle fibers. Sophia then targeted his shoulders and the top of his spine, which hurt worse since there was little skin to soften the impact. Just like this hand, she had done two front and two backhand motions, but then she said, “I’ll only give your neck one lash, otherwise it’ll be in so much pain that you can only gasp and I can’t hear those lovely screams of yours!”
Before Ulysses could desperately beg her not to hit him there, Sophia struck his neck in the back hand motion with her right hand, the tails first wrapping around and then uncoiling and sliding around his nape.
"I think we need something more," Sophia’s voice came from across the room, smooth and laced with a terrifying excitement. "I’m going back to the store. I’m going to find a toy that is perfectly suited to the position you’re in right now."
Ulysses swallowed hard, his throat clicking in the quiet room. The position he was in—suspended, helpless, blindfolded—left his imagination to run wild. His eyes widened behind the white handkerchief, darting back and forth in the darkness. A toy suited for this? He pictured heavy leather straps, clamps, or perhaps a riding crop. The thought of her returning with a whip made his muscles tense against the bungee cord, the elastic creaking slightly as he pulled his knees up in a defensive reflex.
"Don't worry," Sophia cooed, her voice drawing closer again. He felt her breath ghost over his ear. "The toy I have in mind will certainly sting, but it won’t cause any serious harm. It’s the perfect torture tool, really."
"Torture?" Ulysses whispered, the word barely audible.
"Precisely," she hummed, patting his cheek with a manicured hand. "Be a good boy and wait here. I won't be long."
He heard the distinct sounds of her dressing—the slide of silk stockings, the snap of a bra clasp, the rustle of her professional skirt being zipped. The air shifted as she moved toward the door. There was a pause, and then the sound of lips smacking the air.
"Mwah," she blew him a kiss playfully. "Don't go anywhere."
The heavy office door clicked open and then shut with a definitive thud. The lock turned with a sharp metallic snap, sealing him inside. Ulysses was left alone in the silence, suspended in mid-air, the only sound the low hum of the building's ventilation and the frantic beating of his own heart.
Time seemed to stretch and distort in the darkness. He tried to gauge how long she had been gone, counting the seconds in his head. He remembered the duration of her previous trip to fetch the vibrators, a span that had felt like an eternity then and felt even longer now. The sweat on his body began to cool, making him shiver slightly in the office's air conditioning. He flexed his fingers, trying to keep the circulation going, the bungee cord swaying gently with his movements.
Just as he estimated the time had matched her previous absence, the lock clicked. The handle turned, and the door creaked open. Heels clicked sharply on the laminate floor—a staccato rhythm that approached him with predatory intent.
"I'm back," Sophia announced. Her tone was gleaming with sadistic delight.
Ulysses stiffened. He heard a swishing sound, like multiple thin strands cutting through the air. *Swish, swish.*
"Recognize this sound?" she asked.
"No, Mistress," he stammered.
"It’s a martinet," she said, letting the name roll off her tongue. "A classic little beauty."
Ulysses’s blood ran cold. He knew the device. He had read about them in his more curious moments, descriptions of small, multi-tailed whips used for discipline. He was mortified, his face flushing hot beneath the blindfold. He recalled the specific details—the leather tails that didn't thud like a heavy whip but stung sharply, like a swarm of bees attacking the skin all at once. They left angry, red stripes and raised welts, surface-level pain that looked devastating but healed without permanent damage. The idea of being on the receiving end of that, while unable to see or defend himself, made his stomach churn with a cocktail of fear and dark arousal.
"Listen closely," Sophia commanded, snapping the whip through the air again. The *crack* was sharp and loud, making him flinch violently. "Danish oiled wood handle. About a foot and a half long. Nice and heavy in the hand."
She stepped closer. He could smell her perfume mixed with the faint scent of leather.
"And the tails," she continued, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Twelve of them. Soft, pliable leather the color of cinnamon sugar. They look so innocent, don't they? But they bite."
Ulysses gripped the bungee cord above his wrists, his knuckles turning white. He imagined the cinnamon-colored tails splayed out, ready to strike his exposed skin. The suspension left his torso, thighs, and ass completely vulnerable. There was nowhere to hide.
"Please," he whimpered, his body trembling.
"Shh," Sophia hushed him. He felt the soft brush of the leather tails against his bare shoulders, a feathery tease that belied the sting to come. "Just feel. Remember?"
She trailed the martinet down his back, over his bruised, bottom, ans down the back of his legs and thighs. The leather was cool against his overheated skin. After that, Sophia walked in front of him and slid the whip down his collarbone, heavy pecs, and toned six-packed stomach He gasped, his breath hitching in his throat as the tails brushed over his penis and testicles.
"Perfect for a suspended toy like you," she mused. "Every inch of you is accessible. I can paint you with little red stripes wherever I please."
Sophia walked behind him again and pulled the whip back, the air whistling as she did. Ulysses squeezed his eyes shut tighter behind the blindfold, bracing himself for the first bite of the cinnamon leather. Then he squealed like a pig as his boss lashed the backs of his hands, four times, using two back hand, and two front hand motions. He had never been stung by a bee before and as such was not prepared for the sharp fiery sensation of the whip’s tales hitting his skin and panting deep into his nerves. He continued, whipping him without pause, hitting the top of his forearms first, then the lower forearms next, then his sensitive elbow pits along his elbows, which made him holler even louder. Ulysses’ biceps were targeted next, and he felt the Sharp sting deep in his muscle fibers. Sophia then targeted his shoulders and the top of his spine, which hurt worse since there was little skin to soften the impact. Just like this hand, she had done two front and two backhand motions, but then she said, “I’ll only give your neck one lash, otherwise it’ll be in so much pain that you can only gasp and I can’t hear those lovely screams of yours!”
Before Ulysses could desperately beg her not to hit him there, Sophia struck his neck in the back hand motion with her right hand, the tails first wrapping around and then uncoiling and sliding around his nape.
31-35, M