Babala's Correction (18 page)

Babala lowered her eyes modestly. ‘Entertain, sir?'

‘Hm, that beautiful cunt of yours will make many of my guests, both men and women, very happy.'

‘Whatever pleases you, sir,' she said obediently, but her heart was heavy. Once more she was to be used as a plaything and then looked down upon as a whore.

Maxim clapped his hands, and from the shadows emerged a very large, fearfully ugly man. ‘Take her to the kitchens and Rata will give her my orders,' the Slavemaster ordered him. ‘And no one is to touch her again before tonight's gathering. Do you understand me? No one. I want her fully responsive and attentive where my guests are concerned...' and with that Babala was dismissed.

The servant gripped her upper arm and led her from the room, and she dared not struggle for the hold upon her was like a vice and he was formidably strong.

‘The master used you well,' the big man said gruffly as they traipsed along the winding passageways towards the kitchens, and Babala felt her cheeks tinge pink with shame at the truth of what he said.

‘I cannot have a woman,' he added morosely, a few minutes later.

‘Why not?' she asked.

‘Because...' the poor man looked so sad, ‘...because I am so ugly. Ever since I was a child many, many years ago, people told me no female would ever be interested in me - would never want to bed me. And so it has proved...'

‘Come now,' Babala said sweetly, trying to lighten his mood, not liking to see one so obviously lonely, ‘I'm sure that's not true.'

The big man shook his head gloomily. ‘Oh, but it is. I've never felt the joys of a woman's touch. Never felt sweet lips around my cock. Never penetrated a woman's sex...'

‘Well, that may be so, but—'

‘Would you be nice to me then?' he suddenly pressed, stopping and turning to look earnestly into her eyes.

The abruptness of the question caught Babala off guard, and she searched for the right words to say without hurting him further. She'd been through enough and had a daunting evening ahead, so she had few emotions to spare for the poor man.

‘No, of course you wouldn't,' he concluded, shaking his head and turning to lead her on.

Long minutes passed and they walked in silence. His shoulders were hunched and her pity for the gentle giant increased tenfold.

‘Wait,' she said before she could stop herself. ‘Come here,' and she gave him a cuddle, her arms barely reaching round to his back. In the dingy passageway they stood quietly together like that for a few minutes, Babala with her cheek pressed against his broad chest, surprised at the intense sympathy and affection she suddenly felt for the man. ‘I... I will be nice to you,' she whispered carefully, feeling something trunk-like swelling against her tummy, ‘if you really want me to.'

But the man shook his head. ‘No, you don't really want to. You're just trying to be nice to a pathetic, ugly wretch.'

‘No,' Babala insisted. ‘You're not ugly and you're not a wretch. I think you're probably a very kind and very gentle man.' She looked over her shoulder and saw a shadowy alcove behind her. ‘Come,' she whispered, pulling his hands. ‘Come,' and she guided him back into the shadowy privacy of the tiny recess.

Words were now unnecessary, so she reached for the hem of his tunic and slowly lifted it, and his rising penis sprung free, bobbing against her tummy. The look of sheer disbelief etched on the lonely man's face made her heart weep for him in sympathy.

He breathed heavily, watching spellbound as one delicate hand let go of the tunic and hovered, and then cool fingers curled around his rigid stalk and he gasped hoarsely. ‘Oh, little miss...' he sighed.

‘Shhh...' whispered Babala, lifting easily up onto tiptoe to place a gentle kiss on his dry lips. ‘Don't say another word,' and then she gave him a little smile of encouragement and sank down again, but further, gracefully down to her knees, and despite his size he shuddered like a timid boy, not quite knowing what to expect. His huge chest heaved as his breath faltered in his throat, and his stout arms dangled uselessly by his sides.

‘Would you like me to go on?' she whispered sweetly, and he nodded dumbly, looking down with incredulity at her angelic, upturned face.

Her lips parted slightly and hovered as she looked at the spear of flesh pulsing before her face. The cool fingers tightened around him, and then she leaned closer, her lips parted further, and his erection pressed into the warmth of her welcoming mouth. The man groaned and allowed her fist to pull him ever closer, until he nudged the back of her throat and her fingers only had room to wrap around the very root of him.

His hands cupped her head and stroked it with surprising tenderness, and Babala felt him swelling further inside her mouth. She sucked and licked as best she could, desperately wanting to please the gentle giant.

He groaned above her, gazing down at the lustrously golden head held against his groin, moving gently within his grip, the unseen tongue and lips working beautifully to give him pleasures the like of which he'd never dreamed he would or could ever experience. And the sweet suckling sound, rising up to him in unison with the caresses of her mouth, only served to heighten his joy, and before long he knew his orgasm was imminent.

Babala knew it too, and steeled herself for the years of pent-up frustration to deluge her mouth and throat. She swallowed his full length and reached beneath his tunic with both hands to cup his muscular buttocks, and held him close, wanting him to use her mouth as he wanted.

‘Ohhh, little miss...' he groaned, and then his erection swelled even further, its girth making her jaw ache and cheeks hollow, and his seed burst forth copiously. Babala swallowed diligently, her nostrils flared and her breasts moulding against his stocky thighs as she breathed deeply, determined to make it an experience the man would never forget, and then his penis spent again, filling her mouth and making her throat work hard to accept his creamy emission.

Gradually his passion ebbed and his flesh began to soften between her lips. Babala let go of his buttocks and eased back onto her heels, his flesh slipping from the haven of her mouth, a little drop of his seed dripping onto her breast, where it shimmered like a pearl in the half-light.

‘Oh, little miss,' he sighed again, bending to help her to her feet, ‘thank you. I never knew such delights were possible. And even if I did know, I would never have dreamed they would ever pay me a visit. I will never forget what you have given me...'

Feeling a little light-headed, Babala touched a fingertip to the big man's lips. ‘Shhh...' she whispered. ‘Next time we'll go a little further...' she added, and her eyes sparkled mischievously in the shadows as understanding crept onto his face and made him smile conspiratorially.

‘Then I cannot wait for the next time,' he beamed. ‘And if I can ever help you, my little angel... if you ever need me, I will do all I can to be there. You have only to call and I will come - wherever you are.'

Babala, her legs a little weak with the excitement of giving the man so much pleasure, and from the memory of the feel of his potent manhood in her mouth, laid her golden head on his immense chest. ‘Thank you,' she murmured.

‘No, my little angel,' he said softly as he held her tight, ‘it is I who should thank you.' He lowered his face and kissed the top of her head as he stroked a fingertip down the perfection of her cheek. ‘No one has ever given me anywhere near as much as you have just given me. You didn't have to, you know.'

Babala closed her eyes and relaxed in the security of his powerful embrace. ‘I know I didn't,' she said. ‘But I wanted to do it for you.'

With the same gentle finger that stroked her cheek the man lifted her chin, looking into her wide blue eyes. ‘Is there anything I can do for you, little miss?' he asked. ‘You have only to ask.'

Looking up into his kind face, Babala could not help but think of what Maxim and his formidable wife might do if either of them found out about their little indiscretion - particularly after Maxim's warning that she was to remain untouched until the evening festivities - and she couldn't help but worry for him. Despite the warmth of his body a shiver ran down her spine. She rested her cheek back against the comforting strength of his chest. ‘What will they do to you if they discover what we have done?' she murmured against his tunic.

‘They will not,' he stated determinedly.

‘They might,' Babala insisted anxiously. ‘And they might punish you severely.' With a trembling hand she reached beneath his tunic and stroked the semi-turgid fullness of his cock. ‘Desilla, I am sure, would take great delight in teasing this before taking it from you.'

His complexion paled as the implications of her words sunk in. ‘Then, what do you suggest, little miss? You are as unsafe as I am.'

Babala shivered again and allowed his cock to fall gently back between his strong thighs, her mind made up. ‘I think we should both flee this awful place before they find out what we have done.' She glanced up and down the dingy passageway, her own paranoia suddenly making her very frightened. ‘If they haven't already...'

‘But we are slaves,' he countered. ‘Maxim and Desilla own us.'

‘What could they do to us for trying to escape that could be any worse than what they might do if they discover what we've done together? What could they do that would be any worse than our lives now?'

He nodded, absorbing the truth of her words. ‘But there will be many dangers as we make our way down the crag. Many dangers.' He shook his head and his face was creased with worry. ‘And that's if we even get out of the castle.'

‘What is your name?' Babala asked.

‘Huru,' he said simply.

‘Then we shall have to face any dangers together, Huru,' she told him defiantly.

 

 

 

Desilla, dressed in a gown made of the finest black leather, strode about the kitchen, flailing her whip at any poor unfortunate within range. Her breasts were bare and pert, probing their fullness through carefully cut circles. Silver rings pierced her taut nipples and caught the dim light thrown out from the huge range and the candles set into niches cut into the stone walls.

The gown was slit from the flowing hem to Desilla's crotch. As she strode about the busy room the lush curls of her pussy bush could clearly be seen, but none of the kitchen staff made a comment nor turned their eyes in that direction.

‘Where is that girl?' she demanded, of no one in particular. ‘She is the entertainment for the banquet.' Her face distorted with anger and she lashed out viciously with the whip, catching Rata around his shoulders, but he managed to remain upright, showing little of the acute pain he felt. Desilla, her anger quelled for the moment, picked up a root vegetable, scrubbed and peeled. ‘My guests would delight to see the little strumpet plunge this and other fruits of the earth into her cunny.' She stroked the tip of the vegetable across her parted lips, caressing it with her tongue. ‘Come here, Rata,' she ordered slyly.

Understanding her spiteful intent he did not cower, for he knew that was what Desilla delighted in. So he moved, his back straight and head held high, towards his cruel mistress.

 

Maxim met his wife at the door of the great dining hall. ‘You have been a long time, my dear,' he said, and despite the endearment she could tell he was angry.

‘You sent me to look for the girl,' she reminded him, ‘and I am afraid, dear husband, that she is nowhere to be seen.'

The revellers were all seated at the long tables. They were already noisy with wine, but their chatter stopped as their host and hostess entered the hall.

‘I am greatly sorry to disappoint you ladies and gentlemen,' Maxim announced, ‘but our entertainment for the evening, the beauty called Babala, seems to have disappeared.' The assembled guests muttered with disappointment and mugs of swilling ale were banged on the table, but Maxim merely smiled and held up his hands for silence. ‘However, we have a gracious volunteer to take her place,' he added.

Desilla felt his hand grip hers in an iron hold. ‘Did you enjoy yourself with our servants, my dear?' he hissed in her ear. ‘Degrading the family name and belittling our station in the kitchens?'

‘H-how do you—?'

‘How do I know?' Maxim cut in. He grabbed a kitchen maid who had been trembling behind him, her eyes wide with fear, and Desilla felt her own complexion drain.

Maxim's lips curled into a sneering smile. ‘I see your memory serves you well, my dear.' He threw the girl from him and she cried out as her bottom caught the edge of a table and she was swamped by three of the guests, who began to slobber and maul her.

Head held high, Desilla turned on her heels and began to make for the door, but she took only two strides before the crack of a whip echoed around the great hall and she howled with pain, shock and indignation.

‘Come back here,' Maxim growled, his voice more fierce than she had ever heard it. ‘Since I presume you have much to do with my beautiful Babala's disappearance,' he accused, gripping her upper arm and wrenching her back against his chest, ‘you must take her place.' He laughed, and the laughter made Desilla's heart sink.