Babala's Correction Read online

  ‘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.

  Chapter 9

  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 h
ostess 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.

  ‘T-take her place?’ She could feel every contour of his body, could feel his cock rigid against his stomach, and knew he was greatly excited at the prospect of her degradation before the assembled guests.

  ‘Yes, my darling wife,’ he sneered, already unfastening the buttons down the front of her gown until it slipped apart and slid from her pale shoulders, leaving her naked apart from her high-heeled ankle boots.

  Chapter 10

  Babala shivered in the chill of the night air and her new friend and ally clutched her to him as they walked, a sturdy arm squeezing her shoulders reassuringly.

  ‘Where are you going with that girl?’ demanded a guard, who stood on the drawbridge of the castle.

  Even in the moonlit gloom Babala saw him stare hungrily at her body, and was so grateful for the presence of Huru.

  ‘I have orders to throw her over the crag,’ he said.

  ‘What a waste,’ grumbled the guard, licking his fat lips. ‘Who would know if I took my pleasure before you do it, Huru?’ He cast his large colleague a fleeting questioning glance, but his piggy eyes quickly returned to crawl all over the lovely girl.

  ‘I would,’ said Huru, holding Babala closer, ‘but—’

  ‘What harm would it do?’ the guard cut in, his tunic now fully lifted and his cock rigid and throbbing in his hands. ‘Just give me a few minutes with her... come on, my friend.’

  Babala snuggled closer into Huru’s trunk-like arms, but still felt anxious.

  ‘If she’s going over the crag anyway,’ the guard persisted, ‘it won’t matter what we do to her. You and I could have our fill of her and no one would ever know any different.’

  ‘I would know,’ said Huru. ‘Now leave us be.’

  But not to be put off such a rare and tasty treat so easily, the guard raised his pike threateningly and aimed it at Huru’s face. ‘You’re planning on having the whore for yourself,’ he accused venomously.

  Babala felt Huru tense and sensed his rising anger. ‘And what if I am?’ he asked dangerously, staring at the guard, challenging him. Nothing more was said, only the gusting night wind disturbing the tense silence, the cloaks they wore, and Babala’s hair, silvery in the moonlight.

  The guard stood up to Huru, but gradually his bravado and his erection waned as he clearly recognised the folly of challenging such a powerful figure. The pike lowered. Huru helped it on its way with a backhand swipe, and Babala sighed with relief as the deadly tip clattered on the ground at her feet.

  ‘Very well, Huru,’ said the guard, ‘I have no argument with you, and no whore is worth spilling blood over. Take her to the crag.’ He cast an evil eye at Babala. ‘And good riddance to the troublesome bitch.’

  Babala and her giant guardian hurried on, the delay putting the fear of pursuit into them. Slowly they made their way down the steep side of the cliff, testing each foothold carefully before searching for the next.

  ‘I know a cave ahead where we can hide until morning,’ Huru said, and Babala shuddered in his arms. ‘Is something wrong, little one?’ he asked, looking down into her eyes.

  ‘There was another cave to which I was taken,’ she said, and told him about the palace guards and how she came to be Maxim’s slave.

  Huru hugged her to him. ‘Nothing like that will happen to you in this cave,’ he told her. ‘It is somewhere I go to be alone - to think. You will be safe there. I will protect you.’

  The chill of the night bit deep into Babala’s bones, and had it not been for Huru’s arm around her she would surely have frozen to death. At the foot of the cliff, as the ground levelled off and they walked on into the night, putting distance between them and the foreboding castle of the Slavemaster and his vicious wife, Babala was suddenly overcome with fatigue and her legs collapsed beneath her. Huru’s arm held her easily, and he picked her up and cradled her as her head lolled against his chest and her eyes closed, despite her valiant attempts to stay awake and not be a burden to her new and trusted protector...

  Babala awoke and looked up into Huru’s kindly eyes, but there was something seriously wrong.

  His wrists and ankles were tied with ropes and he was slung excruciatingly, his arms and legs twisted backwards, to the ceiling of the cave! With a shriek of bewilderment and fear she sat up and cast her wide eyes around the dark and crude shelter, and saw shadows huddling in the darkness and heard whispering voices.

  ‘She’s awake,’ said one.

  ‘And so beautiful,’ said another.

  Gradually the shadows took on more substance and Babala gasped and drew back at what she saw. There were seven or eight men, all of them short, all of them repulsive, their legs bowed.

  ‘H-how...?’ began Babala, slowly backing away on her bottom. ‘How did they overpower you, Huru?’

  ‘Maxim must have put out a warning of our flight.’ Huru’s voice was strained with pain. ‘They lay in wait for me.’

  ‘You, be quiet!’ ordered one of the grotesque men, and he pushed Huru’s knees, setting him swinging and the ropes creaking. ‘She is ours now, to do with as we please.’

  ‘Yes,’ said another, ‘and we shall use her well.’ He thrust his groin out in a lewd manner, swinging his gnarled cock from side to side.

  ‘Tie her down,’ said the leader, and several bustled about the cave to gather stakes and tools.

  ‘Th-there is no need,’ Huru gasped, his face contorted against the pain of the pull on his arms and shoulders and legs. ‘She is trained to please and she will not try to escape.’

  ‘All females run from us,’ said the leader, and he gave the signal that Babala should be spread-eagled on the straw that had been her bed and tied to stakes that were hammered into the cave floor at her ankles and above her head.

  Despite her desperate struggles and curses this was done with relative ease, and Babala felt totally at the foul group’s mercy. She looked up to Huru for comfort, and he smiled reassuringly through his grimace of pain.

  ‘She is lovely,’ slavered one, his eyes bulging.

  ‘Hm,’ murmured another. ‘It’s as though she offers herself to us willingly.’

  Babala closed her eyes in a futile attempt to hide her shame, but at the same time, secretly, she was proud of her body - proud that she was so fully trained to please others. She felt fingers twistin
g in her golden hair, fumbling with her breasts and plucking her nipples, and probing inquisitively at her sex lips. They mauled her flesh - her face, her arms, her flat tummy and her legs.

  The leader rubbed his cock, pulling back the foreskin to bare the shining globe, slick with issue. It was large, looking out of proportion to his wizened frame.

  Babala cringed and held her breath as she felt the warmth and wetness of a tongue rasping her sex. Unable to writhe away from the teasing tongue because of her bonds, she could only lie there and endure the attention, feel the tongue easing between her slick lips and stabbing at the sensitive bud of her clitoris. She was helpless in the tight bindings wrapped around her wrists and ankles; but did she really want to squirm away from the delicious sensations the tongue and hands were giving her? Her molesters were ugly and misshapen, but a familiar heat grew in the pit of her belly and the shameful desire to offer herself fully to her captors was intense.

  The leader of the vulgar group gripped Babala’s thighs and hunched down between the straddled limbs, and despite her overriding repugnance, a deliciously wanton feeling grew within her and she could feel her creamy sap melded with the man’s spittle and seeping over her bottom cheeks. Her clitty felt greatly engorged under his fumbling attentions - tight, as if it would burst with pleasure, and she could not help but mew with ecstasy despite the discomfort of the bindings that pinned her arms and legs outstretched.

  The coarse huddle of dirty men murmured and slobbered, and daring to peer from beneath lowered eyelids, Babala saw them looming over her, groping her flesh, their cocks bloated and straining for release.

  She heard Huru bellow his rage, as if in great pain, and managed to catch sight of him straining at the thick ropes that held him suspended to the ceiling of the cave, and then the leader shuffled between her thighs, fumbling to position his cock at her entrance.