by Maren Smith
Then he said, "Butterfly, level one."
Merilla cried out, her hips bucking sexily as she felt the operation of the device that enclosed both her clit and her g-spot. She suckled desperately at Jason's manhood, begging wordlessly for more intensity.
"Butterfly, level zero," Carl said. Merilla sobbed as the faint buzzing in the air of the living room stopped.
"Butterfly, level two," George contradicted, and Merilla's whole body shuddered. Jason pushed her face down on his shaft to make sure she understood the relationship between her service and her reward, before he gave another command of his own.
"Butterly, level zero." He didn't stop using Merilla's mouth for a few moments, though, as he told her what she needed to know to be a good girl for her daddies as they broke her in at last. "Sweetling, your butterfly has five levels. If you please your daddies with your bottom, when we open your little ring, your butterfly will make the pain seem like pleasure. If you try to pretend you don't need our cocks inside your anus, and make a fuss, we'll turn the butterfly off and your breaking in will be very uncomfortable for you."
He lifted her head gently from his hard manhood.
"Butterfly, level one," he said, then, to Merilla, "Do you understand, sweetling?"
She bit her lip, face puckering, then, with a little nod, said, "Yes, Daddy," in an adorable little moan.
"Stand up," Jason said, "and go to the arm of the couch and lay yourself down over it. Your daddies are going to fuck your bottom now, and come inside you."
Carl had risen from the couch, and he helped Merilla stand, then guided her to the end of the sofa. She gave a tiny cry as he toppled her over it, still-pink bottom raised perfectly for its first hard ride.
"You can go ahead and lube her, George," Jason said. The ash-blond major had the bottle in his hand already.
"Reach back," Carl said, "and spread your cheeks, now. Daddy George is going to get your little hole ready for cock."
Merilla's adorable bottom bounced atop the arm of the couch. Her hands, which she had placed to brace herself as her upper body fell onto the cushion when Carl had bent her over, trembled as if she couldn't find the will to obey the degrading command.
"Butterfly, level zero," George said, gently. "Merilla, do you want this to feel nice, or do you want it to hurt? Do as Daddy Carl told you."
With a sob, she put her hands back, and spread the bewitchingly pert halves of her well-paddled backside. Jason had stood up himself by now, and the three daddies gathered behind their little bed-girl's lewd display, pumping the cocks she had taken so dutifully into her mouth as they gazed down on the sweet, pink flower of her virgin bottom.
George spoke again. "Butterfly, level three."
Merilla jerked over the sofa-arm, and her hands rose from her backside in an obviously involuntary motion: with a sobbing moan she took her pink cheeks into her fingers again and spread them even wider than she had before.
"Please, daddy," she whispered. "Please… please…"
"Good girl," George said gently as he began to rub the lube onto her tiny anus. He pressed his forefinger inside, and Merilla cried out, her bottom squirming desperately. "There you go, sweetling. We need to get you good and ready."
"Oh… powers," came the lovely bed-girl's muffled voice. She pressed her face deeper into the cushion as if trying to hide her blushes.
George stepped back, and Jason moved to take his place directly behind Merilla.
"Oh, no," she whispered, her head going back, when she felt him put the head of his cock right on the wrinkly aperture of her smallest, most secret place. "Oh, Daddy, no. It's too big. Please… it's too big for me."
"Shh, sweetling," Jason said. He thrust his hips forward just a bit, his hands over her slender wrists, keeping them there where the little bed-girl had spread them for her first bottom-fuck.
Merilla whimpered in discomfort, her bottom clenching as if to keep the hard shaft out. Pushing gently, to maintain the pressure there, but not forcing his way in, Jason said, "Butterfly, level four."
A sob broke from Merilla's chest as the buzzing got louder. Her bottom surged, and Jason leaned a little further, so that the head of his manhood entered her at last, and she felt that true possession by a dominant master. The cheeks clenched, her body's reflexes doing their best to end her first impalement on a hard penis, but Jason held himself inside, using his grip on her flanks to steady her wayward movements.
"That's it," Carl said. "Break in that bottom."
"Good girl. Good girl," George murmured.
With small thrusts, now, Jason got her used to having a man in her most private place. Each invasion took him further in, while the toy inside Merilla's quim did its pleasurable work. The bed-girl's sobs had become very ambiguous, and just as he felt the most heavenly of sexual sensations, her soft, warm bottom against his sinewy lap, he said, "Butterfly, level five."
Merilla came instantly under him, screaming, hips bucking, as Jason started to fuck her little backside in earnest.
"Oh, so tight," he said. "Daddy's going to come."
He let the climax build, telling the butterfly to fall back to one, then to rise again to two, then three, so that she would climax again just as he did. When the ecstasy had built almost to its apex in his muscles, Jason said, "Butterfly, level five." He could feel the intensity of the toy's movement in his cock as he let his seed spurt into her young bottom. He held himself deep, feeling all the muscles of her quim and bottom clenching around him, and then with a grunt he withdrew.
Carl said, "Butterfly, level zero," as he took Jason's place. Sternly he told Merilla to keep her bottom open, and then without turning on the vibrator he put his left hand atop the creamy skin of her back and used his right to direct his cock straight into her bottom.
The girl cried out, her head threshing from side to side, as she received this second invasion. Jason watched her fingers clench on her bottom-cheeks. Her head went back.
"Butterfly, level one," Carl murmured, and began to ride Merilla's sweet young backside hard.
She bucked under him, but then, because Carl knew precisely what to do when he fucked a teenager's bottom, she came even with the low intensity of the toy. He kept fucking, and he kept raising the level of the butterfly, until at last at level four he too came inside her.
"Did you learn your lesson, sweetling?" he asked in his seldom-heard gentle voice, as he pulled his manhood from her tiny hole. "Butterfly level zero."
"Yes, Daddy," Merilla whispered.
"Do you want to be a good girl?" asked George, as he put his own cock to the no-longer-virgin ring.
"Yes, Daddy," Merilla said, her voice very dreamy now, and sounding rather far away.
George pushed in gently, saying, "Butterfly, level two." He took Merilla's hands away from her backside so he could stroke the pink cheeks softly.
"Are you very sore, sweetling?" he asked as he rode in and out, mastering her tenderly but still with Magisterian dominance and resolution.
"Yes, Daddy," Merilla whispered.
"I'll give you a treat, then," George said. "You may control your butterfly. I think you can figure out how."
That made Merilla giggle despite having a big penis in her bottom and a vibrator in her cunny.
"Butterfly…" she said hesitantly, "level four."
"She likes four best," Carl said to Jason. "I can tell."
Jason laughed, and Merilla cried out as she climaxed again under her kind daddy's long, deep thrusts.
Chapter Eight
Together they all walked towards the little assembly hall at the center of the town, eighteen girls, she counted, which must mean fifty-four daddies? For the first time, then, she thought she understood the wisdom of the Magisterian plan for war-reparations: the little bed-girls, three from the capital and three from each of the two settlements, were hostages, and they would be examples, too, when they returned in their pink dresses.
Daddy George must have seen Merilla looking over at Welana, who
like Merilla wore only a diaper, because once they had all gotten inside the brightly lit hall, splendid with the real wood it seemed the Magisterians imported so much of, he said, "Sweetling, would you like to go talk to your friends?"
"Yes, Daddy," she said, turning to him with a grateful smile.
"Go ahead," said Daddy Jason, who looked resplendent in what Merilla guessed must represent his full dress uniform, with medals and gold braid. "I'm going to welcome everyone in a moment, and after that it's just cake and ice cream."
Merilla felt her eyes go wide. She had eaten cake, of course — though she felt sure Magisterian cake would be as different from Paternian as the lord deputy's quarters were from her tiny house — but she had only ever heard of ice cream.
Even Daddy Carl smiled at the expression on her face, then. She flashed a smile at her daddies, despite the diaper and the soreness of her bottom, then turned and ran over to Welana. The red-headed girl seemed taken aback by the warmth of Merilla's greeting, as if she had felt sure Merilla would find life with her daddies a terrible ordeal. But she returned the hug with equal warmth, seeming genuinely happy to see Merilla.
Heva came over to join them, the blonde girl looking pretty in a green dress that came down just above her knees. Merilla hugged her, too, though more hesitantly — a bit out of envy and a bit because she felt newly ashamed of the diaper. Heva's brow furrowed as she exchanged a hug with Welana, and she looked at the two of them with pink cheeks, the question clear in her eyes though she didn't want to embarrass her friends by asking it.
Merilla turned to Welana. "I… I had an outburst, about… being, you know, broken in?" She felt the heat rise up in her face as the other girls swirled around them, the groups of three from each district finding one another just as they had done. "Then I tried to run away from my punishment. That's why I'm in my diaper."
Welana hesitated, obviously unwilling to share her own story yet. Merilla looked over at Heva. "Did you get… broken in?" she asked quietly.
Heva nodded. "This morning."
They both looked at Welana. "I touched myself in the bathtub," she said, her eyes downcast. "I was thinking about them, after they… did those things — the breaking in things."
Merilla felt her eyes go wide. She hadn't imagined a girl might even do that, and put her fingers where a daddy's hand knew how to do such wicked things. Now that she had heard about it, though… she knew instinctively that it would get her the paddle from Daddy Carl, but she had to look down at the floor herself, her cheeks hot, since she wanted to try it anyway.
On the walk home, Merilla worked up her courage to ask a specific question. Just as Daddy George opened the front door, Merilla turned to Daddy Jason and asked, "Daddy, tell me again what Borina did to choose the special chair?"
"She pleased all of us at once, sweetling," Daddy Jason said. "All her daddies' penises inside her at the same time."
Merilla felt her eyes go wide as she looked from his dark-eyes to Daddy Carl's icy blue ones, to Daddy George's understanding, hazel ones. She knew from the way even her kind daddy returned her gaze with a hungry expression that her question had come at a very appropriate time. A thrill of alarm shot through her as her scary daddy spoke.
"We're going to fuck you that way tonight, Merilla," said Daddy Carl. "Go straight to the bathroom, now, so we can get you ready."
Merilla took a final look around outside, to see Deemana entering her house with her three daddies, wearing her pretty blue dress.
"Will I get my panties back if I'm a good girl?" she asked Daddy Jason.
The Lord Deputy smiled. "Yes, sweetling. You'll have ice cream, and you'll choose a present, and you'll get your panties and a pretty dress. Now is your diaper wet already?"
Merilla shook her head, but then — just as had happened the day before in the bathroom — she became suddenly conscious of how full her bladder had gotten with the yummy punch at the party. To her blushing surprise, she realized that having the diaper on, like so much else about this new life, changed the way she thought about her body.
Specifically, now, it had transformed the way her bladder worked. The very sound of her master-daddy saying Is your diaper wet already had made her start to go, right there on the doorstep. She gave a little cry, and bit her lip, changing the shaking of her head into a woeful little nod as she felt the warm pee spread between her legs, so shamefully pleasant that it made her hands clench into little balls.
"Good girl," said Daddy George as the soft hissing sound emerged into the artificial evening of the dome. "That's what your diaper's for. You're learning."
After they had cleaned her up, they brought Merilla back to the living room. The very sight of the couch made her blush, thinking of how she had served her daddies there, after her terrible paddling over Daddy Carl's knee. In front of the sofa stood a piece of furniture like a low bench, of a kind Merilla had never seen growing up in a Paternian settlement — it seemed something Magisterians usually used to put their slippered feet on, when relaxing on the couch, and it had the same leather upholstery.
Daddy George pulled it into the center of the room, near to the fireplace that still exerted such a fascination on Merilla. She didn't have time to look at it now, though, for Daddy Carl's command was peremptory.
"Get on the ottoman, on your hands and knees," he told her, as all three daddies began to take off their uniforms.
Trembling, Merilla obeyed, feeling her brow pucker as she watched the three Magisterians undress from that perch, a position and a posture obviously intended to render her as available to her daddies' penises as they wished. It made her feel so much like an object, a possession, that she shuddered, though at the same time the heat and the ache between her thighs got much greater, too. Daddy Carl stood behind her, and she could feel his eyes on her smooth pussy where she knew it must peep out between her thighs, showing him where he could enjoy his little bed-girl when he wanted to put his hard cock inside her.
Daddy Jason stood in front of her, his manhood in his hand, stroking himself gently. Fascinated, Merilla watched him give himself pleasure, thinking about Welana in the bathtub, and about the butterfly with its naughty artificial penis that went inside a girl's pussy and touched her so lewdly there.
She gave a whimper as she saw Daddy Jason's rigid tool leap a little in his hand and felt an answering clench between her thighs. Then she felt the fingertips of his other hand on her chin, raising her face to look up into his eyes.
"Put your hand between your legs," the lord deputy said. "I want to see you wank your own little quim."
Merilla felt her brow furrow as she saw the lust in his handsome face, in the dark eyes above his high cheekbones. A sob tore itself from her chest as she obeyed him, feeling she would be spanked for touching herself, but also spanked for not touching herself. Then she cried out with the wetness she found in her warm slit and the way she could spread it to her tiny clit and make her own hips buck. She supported herself on her left hand and used to her right to do the most shameful thing she could imagine, her eyes dropping again to her daddy's huge cock as she pleasured herself.
Then she felt Daddy Carl's hand on her back, and her own hand froze as she pictured his view of her frantically moving fingers.
"Keep going, girl," growled her scary daddy, and Merilla did, finding the fear Daddy Carl inspired made the need and the pleasure even greater.
Daddy Jason's hand on her face squeezed her chin, urgently, and the head of Daddy Carl's cock touched the entrance to the aching cavern of her womb. Merilla opened her mouth with a sob, and both penises invaded her at the same time. She cried out around Daddy Jason's deeply thrusting shaft to feel them sharing her that way, both daddies using her hard as she touched herself, too.
Then, to her half-aware surprise, Merilla felt Daddy Carl put his hands on the fronts of her thighs and lift her off the bench thing that she knew now to call an ottoman. All she could see was the taut muscle of Daddy Jason's lap as he fucked her face, the wiry hair
tickling her nose as he enjoyed her in swift thrusts of his hardness. She felt Daddy George, though, his own sinewy form sliding under her until Daddy Carl could make her straddle his fellow officer tree-trunk thighs.
One moment Daddy Carl's cock was the one thrusting inside Merilla's pussy and the next she felt another hard penis, thrusting up at a different angle. Beneath her, Daddy George, who Merilla knew must be able to look up and see Daddy Jason using Merilla's face as if it were a second quim for his enjoyment, gave a grunt of pleasure.
"That's it, sweetling," said her kind daddy, taking hold of her still sore bottom and holding her in place for his up-thrusting. "Such a good girl. So nice and tight."
Then Merilla sobbed around the hardness in her mouth, because her gentle daddy held her bottom open so that Daddy Carl could put some lube there. She cried out as she felt his hardness begin to press against her smallest place, and rubbed her clit frantically, until just as with her butterfly the discomfort felt like ecstasy. A climax washed over her as all three daddies put their penises inside her for the first time.
"That's it," Daddy Jason said. "That's how a girl gets her panties back."
Merilla closed her eyes. She felt the warmth of the fire, distantly. Even the movements of her daddies' manhoods inside her started to feel far away. The stars, high above the dome, seemed to reach down for her and to raise her up towards them. How could it feel so good just to let herself undergo the shameful ordeal — the terrible, lascivious scene on which she suddenly imagined herself looking down, the free sexual use of a little bed-girl's young, captive body?
She would have choices to make, that could earn her the butterfly and the paddle, panties and diapers. Sometimes she would be a good girl, and sometimes a naughty one. Merilla didn't have any doubt, however, that when her turn came to bend over the bench in her settlement's town hall, she would wear her pretty pink dress with a secret — though blushing, always blushing — pride.
