Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Author: Col.  Kink
Title: End of Childhood
Part: Chapter 1
Summary: The daughters of a rebellious duke are taken captive by
occupation forces.
Keywords: Mg+, nc, bdsm, tort, sad, viol, Mdom,SciFi
DISCLAIMER:
This is a work of fiction.  All persons and names in this story are
fictitious and do not represent any real person, living or dead.  This is
adult material intended for an adult audience; if you are a minor, do not

read any further.

   End of Childhood CHAPTER 1

   First there was the wail of the air-raid sirens.  Minutes later came the
concussive blasts of bombardment ordnance.

   Miss Hardeman quickly shepherded her students into the bunker beneath
the classroom.  Skirts rustled as the girls descended into the reinforced
cellar in an orderly fashion.  They had practiced the drill many times.

   The teacher closed the door and threw the bolts as the girls pulled
their gas masks off wall pegs, fitted them snugly and pulled the activation
tags.  There was a chemical toilet in one corner, and enough prepackaged
food and water to last the entire class for three weeks.

   For six days the girls huddled in the dimly-lit room, occasionally
making half-hearted efforts to sing or joke to break the gloom settling
over them.  Once in a while tremors from the battles outside reached the
bunker, shaking its occupants and knocking loose dust and debris.

   Miss Hardeman, a prime brunette who looked worried at the best of times,
would listen to her hand-cranked radio through an earpiece for news of the
outside world.  The radio had no open speaker, for which she was thankful.
With the earpiece, she could decide what, if anything, the children needed
to know.  What she heard didn't sound good; it was mostly
desperate-sounding civil defense warnings peppered with shrill propaganda:
"Stand fast!  Don't give up an inch of ground!  Relief is coming from the
west!"

   On the sixth day, the announcer became frantic: "Save quit peut!  Save
yourselves!  Save quit . . ."

   Then the station went silent.  Even the carrier wave was gone.

   The girls must have seen her face grow ashen, because Shanta asked in a
muffled voice, "Miss Hardeman?  What's wrong?"

   The teacher pulled a smile across a reluctant face.  ""Nothing," she
lied.  "Tell you what, girls; why don't we sing 'Frere Jacques?' We all
like that one."

   Several shaky, timid voices of 12-year-olds began chanting in unison.

   "Frere Jacques, frere Jacques, Dormez-vous?  Dormez-vous? . . ."

   As the children continued to sing, Miss Hardeman heard the faint whine
and stutter of the broadcast station's transmitter sputtering back to life.
Instead of the previous announcer, a deeper voice rumbled through the
ether:

   "This city, formerly in unlawful opposition to His Majesty's will, is
now under Navy occupation.  All fighting will cease.  All citizens are
ordered to remain in their homes until further notice.  Martial law is now
in effect.  Repeating: This city, formerly . . ."

   Miss Hardeman removed the earpiece.  So, that was it.  They were,
effectively, dead.

   " . . .  Sonnez les matines!  Sonnez les matines!  Ding, dang, dong,
Ding, dang, dong!"

   She looked at her charges, huddled on the flood around her.  They were
all royalty or the daughters of major captains of industry; she knew what
would happen to them.  It was the reason they were gathered in the bunker
in the first place.  They were plum prizes for the occupation troops. 
Three of the girls in particular ?  Melodi, Shanta and Jani ?  would almost
surely be taken alive if possible.  They were daughters of the ruling duke,
though by different mothers.  Shanta and Jani were bred on concubines, but
Melodi was mothered by the duke's own younger sister; thus he was both her
father and grandfather, making her the greatest prize of all.

   As for Miss Hardeman, she had neither claim on royalty nor highly-placed
family connections.  She had been hired to run the tutoring program for the
duke's daughters and for the daughters of other well-established leaders of
the rebellion.  She was a commoner, and when the soldiers came, there would
be no special orders to take her alive.  She would be more fortunate than
her students.

   With as much false cheer as she could muster, she said "Very good,
girls! That was excellent!  Now, take your masks off for just a minute. 
There is something we must do."

   As the girls pulled their masks off, Miss Hardeman reached for a small
cardboard box tucked behind a crate of ration packs.  The girls knew
nothing about the contents of this box.  Inside were several dozen cyanide
pellets.  It would be a mercy, Miss Hardeman told herself, better this way
than . . .

   Slowly the room became fuzzy.  Miss Hardeman had trouble concentrating.
She dropped the box.  The girls noticed it as well; some tried to pull
their gas masks back on, but it was a futile move.  The gas being pumped
through the air shaft from the surface was designed to defeat the charcoal
filters in the masks.

   ***

   The roaring in Melodi's head subsided.  As her vision cleared, she
realized she was gagged.  Her own panties had been wadded up, stuffed in
her mouth and secured with heavy tape.

   She was upside-down, she could tell that much.  She felt heavy steel
bands around her ankles.  Her legs were spread open, with her angles
secured to each end of an iron bar suspended on chains.  She wriggled a
bit, the ponytail of her dark black hair bouncing back and forth beneath
her.  Her hands were cuffed behind her back, held in place by a leather
strap around her belly.

   Her belly.  She felt a distinct cool breeze across her belly.  Melody
realized with a start that she was naked.

   Then something touched her nose.  She heard the raucous laughter of
several men.  Whatever it was, she felt it trace its way across her cheeks,
then gently slap her across the chin.  The laughter grew louder.

   As her eyesight focused, she could finally make out what was assaulting
her face: a huge penis, the largest she had ever seen, considerably larger
than her father's, and the duke was not unimpressive in that respect.

   Melodi struggled even harder, but uselessly; there was no escape from
her bonds.  She was dangling high enough that her face was even with the
man's genitalia even as he stood upright.

   Out of the corners of the her eyes she could see her half-sisters,
dark-skinned and dark-haired Shanta to her right, and sandy-haired Jani to
her left, both equally naked, both bound and suspended in the same fashion,
grunting and sniffling around the panties shoved in their mouths.

   Suddenly Melody felt her cheek sting under the recoil of a slap from the
man's open hand.

   "Bitch," he rumbled.  "Your sisters have been awake for 20 minutes."

   He stepped back so the girls could see him more clearly.  He was tall,
at least six feet, and appeared to be a hard, muscular man in his 30s.  He
had close-cropped black hair, steel blue eyes and was as unclothed as the
girls were.  In his right hand he clutched the loops of a leather whip.

   As their senses came back to them the sisters recognized the room as a
chamber they had rarely visited, high in one of the tallest towers of the
ducal castle.  Narrow slit windows cut into the stone showed the dull red
skies of sunset beyond.  Their father had used this room on occasion for
interrogation of prisoners; now his conqueror would use it for purposes
even more sinister.

   Standing guard at the one entrance and surrounding the walls of the
small, dark room were a dozen soldiers in combat armor, the picked guard
for the man with the whip standing before them.

   He cracked the whip once, and the girls stopped their sniffling and
crying to pay attention.

   "I am the crown prince, and you are the daughters of a proscribed
rebel," he snorted.  The crown prince!  The girls felt cold chills grip
their hearts.  They had heard the most terrible stories about this man,
tales they only half-believed from their father's propaganda machine, but
if only half of what they had heard was true . . .

   "This planet is under the ultimate edict," the crown prince said,
circling the girls and eyeing their exposed bodies carefully.  "Every male
on this planet except for those in His Majesty's Forces must die.  Your
father is already dead; his body was found in the rubble of his command
center."

   He was behind them now; he listened carefully as groans and sobs worked
their way through their gags.  He appreciated the view of three sets of
youthful buttocks wriggling helplessly in midair.

   "Your mothers were located as soon as our troops entered the ducal
residence.  When our soldiers were finished . . .  indulging themselves, a
regimental surgeon amputated their limbs." He lowered his voice even
further.  "They are now being fitted out for their new duties: providing
'relief' for the dogs of our K9 squads."

   On display before him were three virginal vaginas quivering for all to
see.  Trace amounts of down graced the lisp of both Shanta's and Melodi's
openings; Jani's was still baby-smooth.

   "Your playmates have been given over as trophies to those of my troops
who performed most excellently on the field of battle," he said, parting
Shanta's lips to expose her little clitoris, hiding away beneath its hood.
"Some of them may survive until morning.  As for your teacher, I rewarded
my personal guard here with some time alone with her.  I believe they
enjoyed it, but her service to the Empire is finished." Forty stories
below, a propaganda film crew had taped Miss Hardeman's body as it hit the
pavement.

   "But now to deal with you three.  As the children of a rebel, you are
under sentence of death.  Sgt.  Ebo, the blade, if you will."

   The girls jerked more frantically than ever, especially Shanta, who
cried and tried to beg for mercy through a muffled mouth as the prince's
fingers pried the opening of her vagina wider.

   The sergeant stepped forward and took the prince's whip, handing him
instead a long, razor-sharp dagger, without ornamentation.  The prince
lowered the knife between Shanta's bronzed legs.

   "Hold still, bitch," he grunted, "and it won't hurt . . .  much." Shanta
bit down as hard as she could and prayed it would soon be over.

   Carefully, as one with much practice, the prince gently pushed the tip
of the blade into her.  He used it to nick her intact hymen, tearing it,
staining the blade with droplets of blood and bringing forth grunts of pain
from the girl.

   He withdrew the dagger, moving down the row to Melodi.  Shanta, shocked
she was still alive and terrified as to what it meant, heard her
half-sister draw in a sharp breath as her own maidenhead was violated by
steel.

   Finally it was Jani's turn.  Her pubis was smooth, devoid of hair, and
the prince was tempted to use his finger, but tradition demanded the blade.

   When he was done, he stood before the three sobbing half-sisters, some
beginning to shake as they realized they had not been killed.  He held the
knife out where they could see their mingled blood on the tip.

   "As crown prince, I have the authority to hold your executions in
abeyance," he said, wiping the blade clean of their virginity with a rag
the sergeant handed him.  The rag would be kept as a reminder to the girls
of who their conqueror was.

   "You will be allowed to live," he continued, "as long as it pleases me
to let you live."

   Approaching Melodi again, he slapped her hard across one cheek, then
across the other.

   "You are mine.  Your bodies are mine, your futures are mine, your lives
are mine," he thundered, moving next to Shanta and delivering similar blows
across her face.  "You will receive this one warning.  The rules are
simple: Obey me and live.  Disobey me and die."

   Stepping around behind Jani, he retrieved his whip from Sgt.  Eco. 
Without warning he cracked it across Jani's back, causing her to flinch and
yelp.

   "From now on, your sole purpose in life is to obey me," he snarled.

   In a sudden outburst of action, he dealt all three girls whippings
across their backsides.  The guards laughed again as the girls' bodies
jerked under the blows.

   When he was finished with the whip, the prince dropped it and signaled
for one of his men.

   "Send for the film crew," he said.  "It's time to show the Empire what
happens to the children of rebels."

   It took the propaganda crew a few minutes to make the trip up from the
street where they had recorded the bloody end of Miss Hardeman; damage to
the power grid meant the only working elevator was an old service lift with
an emergency storage battery.

   As the cameramen set up their equipment, the prince held a knife to
Melodi's throat.  Soldiers turned the other girls' bodies so they could see
their half-sister more easily.

   "When I remove your gags, you will call me 'master' and then suckle my
cock," he said.  "This signifies the surrender of your people to Imperial
forces.  It will be recorded and shown by delayed broadcast across the
entire Empire as a warning to others who may contest the Emperor's will. 
Quintillions will watch.  And if you should refuse, or try anything as
ill-advised as biting . . ." He pressed the blade a touch harder.  " . . .
I will slit your throats.  Understand?"

   The girls swallowed hard and nodded.  Tears started welling up in
Shanta's eyes again.  It was becoming harder for all three to breathe,
having been suspended in such an uncomfortable position for so long.

   The prince removed the knife from Melodi's throat.  The threat was
enough.

   The lead cameraman counted down.  "3 . . .  2 . . .  1 . . .  you're on,
sire."

   The prince reached down and ripped the tape from Melodi's mouth, then
yanked her panties out.  She screamed for a moment from the pain of the
tape being torn away; then she felt the prince cradling her head in his
hands.

   "MasterrrrRRRMMPPH!" she spouted as he shoved himself between her lips.

   She barely had time to wet her tongue before she was licking his shaft
from all sides, wrapping herself around the thick invader.  She had often
fellated her father, as had her sisters, kneeling between his legs, tasting
the warm semen as it erupted and competing with each other to see who could
take him in the deepest.  But there was no warmth here, no loving desire of
a father for his daughters.  This thing was far larger than the duke's --
the girls had no way of knowing it was surgically enhanced -- and the
prince was ramming the length of it up her throat, threatening to choke
her. But she never stopped licking, a sign that she was an obedient little
girl.

   He abruptly withdrew, leaving her gasping for breath even as Jani was
forced to swallow that huge load down.  The little blonde almost passed out
from asphyxiation as his scrotum slapped against her face.

   Shanta was last, and as he ripped her gag away, she actually reached her
tongue out to meet him, whispering "master" as she licked the tip of his
glans.  He was no more gentle with her than with the other two, and within
a few seconds she found herself gagging on the same shaft of flesh that had
nearly choked her half-sisters.

   For the next several months, as the video made its way from one end of
the Empire to another, planet after planet would watch, often on giant
screens in town squares or shopping centers, as three naked little girls
were orally raped by the man who would one day be Emperor.  Most of the
crowds cheered, and many recorded the spectacle for their own private use
later.

   Pulling out of the last girl's mouth, the prince stepped back and let
out a groan of his own, ejaculating a river of semen onto the wooden floor.
He had shown marvelous restraint in not coming inside any of the girl's
mouths; none of the little whores had yet earned the privilege.

   Satiated, he stood for a moment, looking at his newest little slaves
dangling in chains, still gulping down air as they tried to recover from
his oral assault.

   "Lower them, but make sure they're still fully bound," the prince told
his lead sergeant.  "Then bring them downstairs to the Great Hall.  The
victory feast is in a couple of hours, and that will be the appropriate
time to properly deflower these little beauties."