He stood there above them, his blood boiling and his face turning a tender shade of crimson. Kneeling beneath him, were his siren slaves…his vixens in chains: Diamond, Jasmine, and Scarlet. He had left for work with a smile on his face as the triad all scuffled to be the last one to kiss him goodbye. As per usual, they were under clear instructions that the house was to be clean, the chores tended to, and dinner made and ready by the time he arrived home. For Master Fiik, as he was referred to in his house, life was bliss.

         He had a well to-do job that paid him more than enough to afford three beautiful women living underneath his roof, and any desire he could have ever wanted was now the very last thing on his mind. Even so, one might find cause to assume that three girls all demanding the love, emotional, and sexual attention of one man would hate each other due to the constant competition. And in a less perfect world, such a thing would be so. Yet, Fiik found this to be the greatest asset to his household. When he first took the girls in, they each had already been best friends since childhood. Life really couldn’t have been anymore perfect…until this evening.

         A week  ago while on a trip to the mall, and during the few moments he had to himself while the damsels were off buying frilly panties, Fiik had come across a rather unusual find; a vase. Having wandered into an antique shop with every intent to wander back out, he had come across the rather old oriental design. The work and effort put into its painting was not only spellbinding…but it even seemed as if the vase itself told a story. Remembering a bare fireplace mantle back home, Fiik bought the rather pricy artwork against his better nature. The girls squealed at the sight and congratulated their master on such a gorgeous find.

         And so over the course of the next week, their Master only found it necessary to tell them once to be careful around it; as well as to not play in the same room with it, as to avoid its early departure from the world of unbroken things. It had only been a week. Not a month, not even a year…but a week when he arrived home to find his naked slaves, all collared and cuffed, sitting in the living room with fear in their eyes. The oriental find was found broken and in far too many pieces in front of them. They made no eye contact, yet they also said nothing.

         Biting his lip, he was furious. How hard was it to not play in the dining room? Without saying a word he ambled into his room and counted to twenty, or was it fifty? He found himself losing count in his failing attempt to maintain his calm. Having now changed into something more comfortable, he walked back into the living room where they were still loyally kneeling, and he sat on the couch with heavy thud. The room was far too quiet, and he could even see small beads of sweat dripping down the small of Jasmine’s back.

         “Who did it?”

         Silence! Silence did it! They seemed to shout with un-parted lips. Their bodies never moved, they breathing never shifted, this was quite unusual. His slaves rarely disobeyed him of their own free will, and yet all three of them sat there begging him silently to forgive them for their defiance. So they were smart. From the way things appeared, one of them was solely responsible for the destruction of his vase. Otherwise, they would have already been pleading and begging at his ankles for forgiveness. No, no, their silence was in defense of a lone perpetrator, someone who they were afraid to let bare the punishment for their sin alone. How admirable.

           “I know what you’re doing. So I’m only going to ask you sluts this one more time. Who did it?”

         They knew he would figure it out, that’s why they gave him the respect of sparing him of any excuses and lies. Feeling his emotions intensifying again, he stood up and moved in front of them, calculating his next course of action. After a minute of silence he commanded them to follow him to the kitchen. When the three had finally crawled to the doorway, they found him standing there slowly pouring uncooked rice onto the floor.

         “Alright then. Diamond, go to my room and be in “kneel 3” when I get there. Jasmine, Scarelet, I want you two to take up “kneel 1” on this kitchen floor until I come for you. And for your sakes I better not hear a fucking peep out of either of you.” He growled.

         Fear creased their faces as they began to move forward. The moment their knees laid upon the rice, and the gravity from their upper bodies pushed down…they both simultaneously bit their lips to hold out from crying. Moving to his bedroom, he found Diamond on his bed. She was facing the wall with her ass in the air and the rest of her upper body laid flat and extended forward. Opening up his special “chest” in the corner of his room, he pulled out a riding crop and a studded paddle. This was going to be a very long night for all of them.

         “One chance Diamond, tell me who did it.”

         She whimpered from the anticipation, and her body began to tremble. After a moment of waiting for her response, Fiik shrugged his shoulders in lack of concern and raised the riding crop above his head. Hearing the swooshing sound, Diamond would flinch and suddenly blurt out “Me!” Pausing to take in the declaration of truth and honesty, Fiik merely stared at the blonde’s shaking form. Sighing quietly he walked up to her and knelt next to her on the floor. Rubbing his hand on her back, he knew her too well. Diamond was the martyr and the leader of the three. It wasn’t an issue of it “couldn’t be her,” he just knew that it wasn’t. Leaning forward he kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear, “No more lies darling.” Rising to his feet, he moved across the room to the edge of his bed. “Now get up and resume the position next to me on the mattress. Let’s get going with this.”

         Feeling conquered and crushed, Diamond took up her place. She was barely settled before the first lash was given. Unprepared for the stinging sensation, she let out a cry and a pained moan, clenching her teeth she primed herself for the next hits. Her Master often enjoyed punishing them, to the point where most of their punishments were over trivial things. In fact, they weren’t really punishments at all, and just jovial versions of his ability to wield his hold over them. In all honesty however, they could care less. This was how they enjoyed the ecstasy of each others carnal desires, and as he had put it…they had a tendency to be pain sluts. Yet as she kneeled, flinching with every strike that was delivered, the pain seemed to be more excruciating since she knew sexual gratification would not overtake him until the very end if it came at all. This was one of those moments she would try to live down for the remainder of her service to him. The fact, that in some way, she had failed and disappointed her master.

         Halfway through using the studded paddle, Fiik would come to realize that Diamond was in another complete state of mind. Whether it was from disappointment or pain, she had fallen into another form of consciousness. Biting his lip, he would put the weapon down and would move forward to her side kissing the back of her neck. There was no need to continue, unless he decided it pleasing to beat her subconscious…which…he didn’t.

         “Wake up baby. Follow me. You’re done.”

         Standing by the entrance of the kitchen, he waited patiently for the wobbling Diamond to crawl to his feet. Pointing to the rice and the other girls he made it very clear that she was not to be spared the painful waiting process. Sobbing miserably she took her place and then failed at doing her best to fight back the onslaught of tears. Looking over the other two girls, he would see the look of absolute mortification on Jasmine’s face as she stared at Diamond out of the corner of her eye. Quirking an eyebrow, Fiik would lift his finger and point to Scarlet. “You, come here. You’re next.” Now crying openly, the dark brunette would painfully make her way to her master. Kneeling at his feet, she felt his hand wrap around her waist and squeeze one of her full breasts as he knelt next to her. Whispering loudly enough so that everyone else could hear, he would issue dark threats of torments that were far too unbefitting of the crime committed. And like a moth to a bonfire, she finally broke.

         “Enough! I’m so sorry Master. I’m so sorry. They didn’t do anything; it was my fault I swear! I’m so, so sorry.” The words and the tears poured from Jasmine like a crumbling damn of shame. On top of that, the looks Scarlet and Diamond snuck her, betrayed them all.

         “Of course you did it beautiful, you think I honestly didn’t suspect it was you?” Raising a hand to hold Scarlet’s tear streaked chin in his grasp, he would angle her face to look at her sister slave. “But now it’s too late. Scarlet has to be punished for lying to her Master, and then I’ll come back for you.”

         Twenty minutes later, Scarlet found herself standing on the tip of her toes against Fiik’s bedroom door. With her face against the carved wood, her hands were bound above her head to top panel of the door. Her body was dripping with sweat, and covered in welts from her Master’s flogger and she was weeping as she endured the finale of the cane he was using. As he untied her, she took it upon herself to fall backwards into the warmth of his loving arms. Holding her tightly in his embrace, he turned her face to meet his and proceeded to kiss her fervently. The lusty nature that quelled beneath his skin was brimming outwardly now, but as he broke off his affection from his slave who craved more…he made the decision to leave the very worst punishment and his sexual relief for Jasmine.

         Following his beaten kitten back to the kitchen, he told her and Diamond to go to the living room and tend to each others wounds. Then without another word, he walked into the kitchen, grabbed Jasmine by her hair and raised her to her feet. Dragging her into his bedroom, he threw her against his bed. After slamming his door loudly, he turned to face the tear stricken girl. Moving past her frightened form, he opened his chest and pulled out all of the four tools he had previous used; the paddle and riding crop used on Diamond, and the cane and flogger used on Scarlet. Continuing to dig through his chest, he pulled out a set of chains, a blindfold, and a gag. Yet it was in this moment that he witnessed resilience within Jasmine that he had not seen before.

         “Please Master; this one has caused so much trouble today. If it be fitting in your plan, this one begs that you punish her without the use of restraints. This one wishes to endure her punishment without help.”

         Dropping the tools of bondage at his feet, Fiik felt truly moved by her devout comment. All night she had forgotten her place in her vernacular and title, and now at the cusp of her punishment…she was radiating the light of a warrior. Smiling he whispered on tingling tongue, “Alright.” Lying completely on her belly, she extended her arms and legs outward. Wrapping her hands around the bars of the bed frame, she would rethink her actions and instead merely ball her hands into fists.

         “Spread your legs.” He commanded.

         Order obeyed, she lifted her head faced the wall in front of her. A chilling shiver rushed across her body as the flogger was gently placed on her back. Lifting it up slowly, he dragged it to the top of her head. After making several small taunting circles, he towed it down the curve of her shoulders, in and out of the small of her back, over the milky hills of her ass, and then back up between her legs. Pulling it rapidly in the air, her body tightened. Then he quickly changed tools, and instead of being swatted by the flogger, she was whacked across the back with the riding crop. She yelped with surprise as she soon found her Master, lover, and father figure unrelenting in the execution of his chastisement. She endured a heavy amount with the crop, and when she thought that she was close to shedding tears, she found that he replaced the torture to her back, ass, and thighs, with slaps against her ass with the smooth side of the leather paddle. And just when she had held her reserve for so long, she felt the weight crush her and the tears emerge when he flipped the paddle over and used the studs. Crying profusely she gritted her teeth hard and only emitted whimpers of pain. When he actually switched to the flogger, what should have only lightly stung and have been more of an annoyance than a threat instead accentuated the throbbing pain that she had tried so hard to endure. When he put down the flogger and gently touched her ass with the coolness of the cane, she broke down and begged for mercy. She found none shown as her burning red ass soon matched the color of plum and violet, and screams that echoed hard enough to shake the walls if they didn’t. 

         When he was finished with her, she laid there beaten and worn. Her body heaved for air as she tried her damndest to stop crying. Rolling her onto her back, Fiik laid next to her as he trailed designs across her naked front. Turning her head to him, she mumbled a heartfelt “Thank you Master,” and “I love you.” Moving his body over hers, he kissed her passionately only to find that she wasn’t so broken to return his kiss with equal fever. Breaking away, he’d lick his way down her neck, past her collarbone, and would suckle hungrily on her breasts. He felt her body quiver as a euphoric shiver swallowed her whole. Reluctantly he abandoned her alabaster mounds, and he began to graze with his tongue a path south of her body to the divine meeting of her crevice, demanding nothing short of honey from his lover. To this, her yearning body would provide for him not only honey, but milk, sugar, butterscotch and vanilla. He had never felt such emotions that flowed through him like the rapturous feelings that flowed as he devoured her. The longer he went, the more fervor would flow through him. And the more passion that filled him, the more energy and hunger he would feel. Jasmine on the opposite end would be moaning to her hearts content. She was descending from her third orgasm and felt the rise of a fourth. She’d beg him to stop, but she was afraid that this inhuman zeal that came from her Master, she’d never feel again.
She didn’t deserve this. Or…did she? She suffered her trial; she pleaded and gave him honesty. No, no, she deserved this, and she’d relish in every corner of desire she could find around her. For thirty minutes he dined on the best meal he had ever been given. For thirty minutes, she came thirty-eight times, and the only thing that made him stop was the sudden realization that he had slipped away from consciousness. Panting for air, she sat up on her elbows and looked at him as if staring at some sex driven Neanderthal.

         She quirked an eyebrow at him, he’d grin at her, and soon she found him on top of her drilling her hard enough to the point where she would find herself losing all focus and sense of self. Soon the only sound she was emitting was grunts and moans as rough and primal that any outsider wouldn't compare it to being human. There was no “classy” form of their expression that night as they only stayed in a few positions for the next couple of hours. All that mattered to him was that his grip was maintained, and that his slave’s verbal song enlightened and engulfed his ears. Non dare me tutto e niente il meno, mio amore. All that mattered to her was that he didn’t stop pounding the life out of her, and that her Master understood just how truly dumbstruck in love she was with him at this moment. C'è ne e tutto per voi il mio padrone.

         Give me everything and nothing less, my love.

           Any and everything for you my master.
 
 

 

                                                                                               Copyright © 2007 Master Fiik