Babala's Correction (3 page)

‘She asks for it,' growled Bart, and he lifted his tunic to hold his cock stiffly forward, his sturdy thighs parted. ‘Is it true she has only recently lost her maidenhead? She acts like a whore, to my way of thinking.'

‘She's trained!' hissed the Lady Fazath. ‘Trained to be sensuous in all ways. Don't you dare demean her by calling her a whore!'

Babala screamed as the Lady Fazath felt the sting of Capel's whip, so he turned on her and pointed a warning finger. ‘Do you want the same, bitch?' he growled.

‘We're wasting time,' said Bart impatiently.

‘That's right,' Capel agreed. ‘Let's get on with it and then return to the castle. Who will be first, my lads?'

‘None of you,' rasped her ladyship, throwing herself headlong upon Babala. The sound of naked skin slapping against skin was loud in the cave. Peli gave a nervous laugh and Bart cleared his throat.

‘Now, now,' he chided. ‘It's our bit of fun, you see. As guards we get little chance to relieve ourselves with the harem girls. Allow us that - just this once.'

‘Never!' hissed the Lady Fazath.

‘Then take the consequences.' Capel's face was a mask of fury.

Babala whimpered as she felt madam hauled roughly from her and saw her thrown to the sandy floor by the huge man. She heard her ladyship scream as Capel's cock probed at a cunt that had known no man's before.

‘Don't hurt her,' Babala begged.

‘And what of you?' asked Bart, standing over the girl, looking between her inviting legs. ‘Can we hurt you?'

Babala's eyes strayed to Peli as if in supplication, but he held back, watching as Bart stroked a stout thumb across the outer margins of her cunny lips, smoothing the fair curls away from the slit, opening it until Babala could not help but part her legs yet further and arch her mound in a gesture of offer.

‘Is this what you were taught at the castle?' he rasped. His mouth was close to her cunny curls now and she could feel the heat of his breath. Nodding meekly she tried to close her eyes, but an open palm slapped her pale cheek, rocking her head from side to side and making her eyes snap open in shock. ‘Look upon my cock, girl,' he ordered. ‘Is it not as fine as the Taskmaster's? As stiff, with the skin as smooth and the globe as silky?'

As if far away Babala could hear the Lady Fazath moaning softly and she turned her head to look into the gloom at the back of the cave. She could see two men, Graf and Peli, eagerly rubbing their cocks, which throbbed and pulsed as she watched. They aimed the warm and creamy issue that spilled from them upon Lady Fazath's open mouth, and some spillage splashed into the flowing cascade of midnight hair. Capel was pumping into her cunny with his gnarled thickness and she could see his taut balls slapping her ladyship's buttocks as she lifted her legs higher and tighter about his waist. He had surely changed madam's preferences, thought Babala, with an unbidden and secret smile.

‘Answer me, girl,' ordered Bart. ‘Is not my cock as fine?'

‘Indeed it is, sir,' answered Babala, coming to her senses. ‘It is so fine that I should dearly love to caress it with my lips and tongue.'

‘And will you take young Peli into that mysterious cunny of yours at the same time?' asked Bart, his voice husky with lust. ‘And perhaps Graf into your bottom hole lying beneath you?'

‘If that is what would please you, sir,' Babala said meekly, remembering all the little nuances taut to her by the Taskmaster.

‘Oh, it would please me just fine,' grunted Bart as he polished the shining globe of his cock with the tip of his forefinger. Babala could see its tiny opening, appearing and disappearing as the finger slipped back and forth. A globule of pre-issue oozed from the pore and spilled warmly upon her forehead. ‘It is decided then,' Bart croaked eagerly, beckoning to Graf and Peli.

Through the gloom Babala could see the Lady Fazath thrown upon her belly, her buttocks raised to feel the kiss of Capel's whip. The woman was not moaning, but mewing, a sound that could be either pleasure or pain. Capel's eyes were bright with lust as he flung the whip over his shoulder to expertly flick the lower reaches of madam's buttocks and merely kiss her cunny lips with the very tip. The touch was no more than a tickle, a tease that could only serve to heighten her ladyship's desire.

‘You, Peli, kneel between her thighs and fuck her.' As Bart spoke he was spreading the outer leaves of Babala's cunny, once more to reveal the dark and gleaming flesh.

Peli, rubbing his cock to full stiffness, eager to feel the thrill of orgasm over and over again, threw himself to his knees. He looked so young, so handsome, so innocent, like the pages at the castle, and yet she had heard Graf say he was a fully trained guard. His body trembled, but Babala could not discern whether this was apprehension or passion.

Holding out her arms she invited him to lie between her spread thighs, but immediately she received a finger slap upon her breasts, first one and then the other, bringing her teats to hard and painful erection and making her breasts swell, pout and glow.

‘Allow Graf to slide beneath you, strumpet,' ordered Bart. ‘Allow him to pole your bottom entrance or it will be the worse for you.' He cast a telling glance at Fazath, who was now whimpering loudly as each lash petted her bottom.

‘But, sir,' pleaded Babala, ‘my bottom hole is still virgin and very tight. Have you not some balm or salve to ease its opening by?' Her stomach knotted with apprehension as she looked at Graf's thick length.

‘Kneel,' the latter ordered, ‘I shall ease it with spittle and my tongue. Guards do not carry such luxury easements.'

‘And while you're about it, spread your legs,' commanded Bart, as Babala crouched low on the chill sandy floor of the cave. The grit grated on her knees and shins and, as she crouched lower, it rasped against the fine flesh of her breasts, so recently slapped. ‘Let young Peli finger your cunt; the lad is aching to feel its wet warmth.'

Babala did as she was bid and spread her thighs wide. She could feel Graf tugging at the plump flesh of her bottom cheeks, pulling the cleft open to reveal the taut bud of her rose-hole. Quivering, she felt Peli's fingers tentatively spread the puffy leaves of her cunt, stroke the hardened bud of her nubbin and finally plunge two fingers into the darkness of her creamy depths. She was in a quandary. They had called her a whore because of her pliancy and willingness, and yet she was only doing as she was trained to do. Should she struggle? Should she close her legs and fight for her modesty and chastity?

A wetness filled the pit of her rose-hole and she knew that Graf had filled his mouth with spittle and aimed the slimy globule at her secret entrance. Peli's fingers slid in and out of her cunny and she found herself bearing back, despite her fears, upon the pleasant sensation, felt her clitty throbbing with a growing fullness.

‘Open your mouth,' rasped Bart. ‘Wide.' Babala raised her head and saw him kneeling before her, his cock stiff and smooth in its fullness. ‘And I do not wish to feel those sharp little teeth, biting and nipping. Open very wide.' He waved the smooth globe of his cock across her lips and Babala could taste the salty bitterness that she knew was the taste of a man's spume.

As she slowly began to engulf the thick throbbing length she felt a pressure at her bottom hole. It was not unpleasant, especially with the added sensation of Peli thrusting his fingers in and out of her sex and thumbing the very tip of her nubbin. The pressure grew as Graf eased his tongue-tip into the wrinkled pit of her rose-hole. She bore back against it, encouraging the intrusion.

At the back of her tongue she could feel the smoothness of Bart's globe and taste the first driblets of his come. The Taskmaster had taught her the taste, a pleasant bitterness that was a compliment to a woman's skill with her lips and tongue. She almost gagged as Bart thrust deep into her mouth to the very entrance of her throat, but she relaxed her muscles and the thickness slipped back and forth easily.

Graf's tongue was fully inserted in her bottom hole and was dipping in and out, but Babala felt no shame at this secret opening being breached, only pride that she had learned yet another technique to please a man. Soon, she knew, she would have the honour of taking Graf's cock into this secret opening.

Had her mouth not been so full of Bart's pulsing length Babala would have gasped at the next pleasure she was afforded. Another tongue, Peli's, entered her cunny, slipping in and out and sucking at her copious juices. Though she tried she could not take more of this, and much as she attempted to hold back her climax, she could not.

And it came, in great body shaking waves. It seemed it would never stop, that she would die from pleasure. It left her limbs weak and trembling. She spread her legs to their fullest extent and felt her sex clutch upon Peli's tongue and her bottom hole suck upon the three fingers Graf had gradually inserted into its tightness, and without fully realising it she drank down the copious gush of Bart's spunk, swallowing its creamy warmth.

‘She is ready,' grunted Bart, as he pulled his thickness from her mouth. ‘Throw her over upon her back, Peli.'

They spread her, her arms and her legs to their fullest extent, tying her wrists with cords and pegging them to the sandy floor with their daggers. It was not as if she had the will to run, she thought, as Graf positioned himself beneath her, prodding her prepared bottom hole with his newly stiffened cock. That done Peli trembled above her, taking quick stabs at her still throbbing cunny with his own shaft before finally sinking into its silky depths. Again Bart thrust his own flesh sword between her lips and welcomed the caress of her tongue.

Babala was glad she had been relieved of the problem of choice. Bound to the floor she had no option than to lie there and allow the men to have their way, to do whatever they wished to her. And if she thought the straining efforts of the three men caused an orgasm to end all others, she was not wrong. They took her to the verge of madness with their pleasuring and her body welcomed their energetic release.

 

 

The roguish guards took the two women over and over again. Babala felt an ache in her bottom and a soreness in her cunny caused by the pumping in and out of erect penises.

During their imprisonment in the caves the two were used again and again. In frustration, the men took up their flails or whips and lashed the women if their cocks did not rise to full stiffness, so Babala was marked with dark welts upon her bottom, the slight swell of her tummy and the fullness of her breasts. The Lady Fazath, too, bore the marks of whips upon her tawny skin and, although she had fought like a tigress, she was no match for the four trained guards.

At last the men fell into an exhausted sleep and Babala, too, was allowed to rest. The Lady Fazath crawled across the floor of the cave and took the girl in her arms, cradling her golden head upon her full breasts.

‘There, my sweet,' cooed her ladyship, ‘sleep now and remember what I told you of the coarseness of men. After this I doubt you will ever wish a man to touch you again.' The woman cupped the sore and heated pouch of Babala's cunny, holding it softly and smoothing away the drools of male come with her own gentle fingers.

But they were not all coarse, thought Babala. Peli was especially gentle with her, and he had turned his eyes away when Graf and the others lashed her; the brutes delighting in the sight of her pale skin being marked with flails and whips.

As she sank into a troubled sleep, her lovely face nuzzled between the Lady Fazath's breasts, she remembered her excitement as she waited, only days ago, to be prepared by the Taskmaster. There was a tingle of excitement in her belly, the flesh rippling at the very sight of the master's manhood.

She'd waited in a queue of girls outside the preparation room. Some wept and some were taken to the punishment box, over which they were thrown to be whipped into submission. Some, who were especially naughty, were taken into the castle grounds and put between the shafts of small pony carts. Babala had watched all of this and saw how the girls were lashed to the shafts with leather thonging and driven naked along gravel paths until abrasions marked their feet and the lashes wielded by the punishment guards reddened their backs and bottoms.

She watched as they were brought back to the preparation room and serving woman soothed their wounds with salve. They were dressed once more in fine lawn shifts, sheer as gossamer, which all the girls wore as they waited their turn.

Babala looked at them with pity, saw the trembling breasts and the dark shadows of their pussy mounds clearly, prettily fluffed up with special combs by the serving women. If a girl's bush was too full it was trimmed and the upper thighs were shaved to smoothness no matter how much they protested. If they still continued to weep and hold back when they were called to take their turn with the Taskmaster they were thrown into the dungeons and chained to the damp and mossy walls until they came to their senses.

When at last it was her turn, Babala entered the anteroom and bowed her head as she had been taught. She placed her hands upon her golden waves of hair to show that she was entirely submissive and willing, and only then did she lift her head to look into the dark eyes of the man who would take her maidenhead.