Peace Treaty

The room was silent, save for the heavy, ragged breathing of four people tangled in the sheets. Fuu lay beneath me, her body slick with sweat, her legs still trembling. Her silver hair was fanned out in a messy halo, and her eyes were wide, staring up at the ceiling as if trying to reassemble her shattered reality. She looked thoroughly dismantled.

I lifted myself up onto my elbows, looking down at her. The "tough girl" mask was gone. In its place was just a girl, flushed, sensitive, and incredibly receptive. I reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead. "You did good, Fuu," I said softly.

Fuu blinked, her gaze focusing on me. She braced herself for a command, or a critique on her performance. "Good?" she whispered.

"Perfect," I corrected. "You're not just a soldier, Fuu. You're beautiful. You're soft. You're incredibly responsive." I traced the line of her jaw. "I've never seen anyone take to it so naturally. You were made for this. Made to be loved."

Fuu’s breath hitched. She had spent her life hearing words like strong, silent, loyal, useful. No one had ever called her soft or made to be loved. The praise hit her harder than the orgasm had. It bypassed her brain and went straight to her core. Her pupils dilated. Her hips jerked involuntarily. "Made... for... love..." she stuttered. A flush darker than before swept up her neck. Her body, already hypersensitive, overloaded from the sheer emotional release. "Ah!" She arched her back, her inner muscles clamping down on the aftershocks. She came again, a purely psychological orgasm triggered by the permission to be something other than a weapon.

"That's it," I soothed, watching her ride the wave. "Let it go."

As she settled back down, panting, I looked at Olette and Naminé. They were watching with rapt attention, their own arousal simmering. "She's yours now," I told them. "Give her what she's been starving for."

I pulled out of Fuu. A slow trickle of my seed began to leak from her stretched entrance, pearlescent against her skin. "Olette," I commanded gently. "Seal the peace treaty."

Olette understood immediately. She moved between Fuu’s legs. There was no hesitation, no old grudge. Just a hunger to explore the girl who used to intimidate her. "With pleasure," Olette murmured. She lowered her head. She pressed her lips to Fuu’s pussy, tasting the mix of girl and Master. Then, she used her tongue. She licked deep, cleaning me out of Fuu, reclaiming the territory for the girls.

At the same time, Naminé leaned over Fuu’s face. "Open," Naminé whispered. Fuu opened her mouth, and Naminé kissed her. It was deep, wet, and passionate. Fuu was surrounded. Olette’s tongue working her lower lips, Naminé’s tongue tangling with hers. The taste of herself, of me, and of them mixing together. "Mmph!" Fuu’s hands scrabbled at the sheets. The dual stimulation, the physical claiming by her former rival and the tender intimacy from the witch, was too much. She bucked her hips right into Olette’s face. "Nnngh!" A third climax ripped through her. This one was different, it was the fulfillment of her deepest, repressed lesbian fantasy. She was being consumed by girls.

When they finally gave her a moment to breathe, they didn't stop. They descended on her like a swarm of affectionate locusts. "She's so smooth," Olette noted, moving up to lick Fuu’s left breast, swirling her tongue around the stiff nipple. "And tasty," Naminé added, taking the right breast into her mouth, sucking gently.

They explored her like a new map. Olette moved down, lifting Fuu’s arm. She buried her face in Fuu’s armpit, inhaling the musk of her exertion, licking the sensitive skin there. Fuu giggled, a breathless, hysterical sound. "Tickles... sensitive!"

Naminé moved lower. She gently bit the soft flesh of Fuu’s belly, leaving a tiny red mark of ownership. Then, they moved to the extremities. Naminé took Fuu’s hand, sucking on her fingers one by one, while her other hand slipped between Fuu’s legs to finger her, keeping the pleasure high. Olette moved to the bottom of the bed. She lifted Fuu’s foot, kissing the arch, then taking Fuu’s toes into her mouth, worshipping them.

Fuu was writhing. She was floating in a sea of sensation. Every inch of her body was being validated, touched, loved. "Too much love..." Fuu wept happily. "Don't stop... never stop..."

Then, Naminé pulled back. She looked at Fuu with innocent, blue eyes that held a hidden depth of depravity. "Turn over, Fuu," Naminé ordered softly. "Get on your hands and knees."

Fuu obeyed instantly. She rolled over, getting into a submissive crawl, her back arched, her ass in the air. She expected a spanking. Or maybe me again. But Naminé looked at Olette and nodded. "She has a cute ass," Naminé observed. "We should taste it."

Fuu gasped. "Ass?"

"All of you," Olette agreed, crawling up behind her. Naminé took one side, Olette took the other. They leaned in. Simultaneously, they began to lick Fuu’s anus. The sensation was electric. Fuu let out a high-pitched squeal, burying her face in the pillows. It was taboo, it was dirty, and it was being done with such reverence. "Oh god! Girls! Girls are... best!"

They worshipped her back door, their tongues teasing the tight ring, making Fuu shake uncontrollably. I watched from the headboard, the King of this pile, watching my Queens break in the new recruit. The Disciplinary Committee was gone. The Harem was building.