Babala's Correction Read online

  With a face like thunder the Taskmaster agreed to leave. ‘But I don’t suppose you will refuse a customer when I return,’ he said sarcastically as he stomped through the tavern doors.

  The girl, Ruth, at the Lady Fazath’s side, smelled intoxicatingly alluring. Her firm breasts threatened to spill from her bodice, pushed up and squeezed together as they were by the tightly laced stomacher. Her long skirt, although stained by ale and food, was entrancing, tucked up at one side to bare a firm thigh so that the hem did not drag in the puddles, grime and sawdust.

  ‘Why does the innkeeper not use you in his bordello?’ asked Fazath.

  ‘Because I am his daughter, ma’am,’ said Ruth, ‘and a virgin.’

  ‘A virgin,’ sighed Fazath, utterly smitten. ‘A virgin - how delightful.’ Her thoughts drifted to beneath Ruth’s skirts, between her delicious thighs and to her dear little quim, untouched by another’s hand. Babala would have been equally pure had not the Taskmaster got to her first. Would the innkeeper find out if she, Fazath, indulged in some fun with his daughter?

  ‘My father wants me to marry well,’ said Ruth, her pretty head bowed modestly, ‘and he says that no man will take me for a wife if my maidenhead is broken.’

  ‘Quite right, my dear,’ Fazath agreed sombrely, but her voice was husky with lust, imagining the delicious secrets beneath Ruth’s skirts: the full, unblemished bottom cheeks, the plump sex lips so gloriously decorated with fiery red curls, for the girl’s hair was a tumble of red-gold, and between those plump lips... oh, such delights! Such mouth-watering thoughts made her fair dizzy to think of them.

  ‘In which room are you going to tend me?’ she asked, trying to control her mounting excitement. But oh, to have the girl sponging her private parts while she lay back with her legs parted. It was just too enticing to contemplate! If she thought about it for very much longer she would surely orgasm before the girl had even started to ready her.

  ‘In here,’ said Ruth, shyly opening one of the heavy oak doors. ‘All the chambers are much the same, but this one will serve and we shall not be disturbed.’

  This last statement sent a thrill surging through Fazath and made her stomach churn with anticipation. ‘That’s good,’ she murmured. ‘I should hate for that to happen.’

  Ruth gave Fazath a shy glance; her eyelashes lowered as if the task her father had set made her uncomfortable.

  The small room was dimly lit by a few candles, with a four-poster bed at its centre. The girl’s scent was like nectar to Fazath as they stood close together. There was a sweetness about it, with a freshness that reminded Fazath of the gardens around the palace of Ellipsis, her old home.

  Soon the sweet thing had helped her undress, and standing naked in the bedchamber, despite her wealth of experience in seducing delightful young maidens, Fazath almost trembled with excitement. She was sure the girl’s delicious scent would be even more intoxicating if she could be persuaded to undress also.

  ‘Why don’t you take off your bodice and skirt, my dear?’ Fazath purred seductively. ‘You will be so much more comfortable...’ and without awaiting a response she began to unlace the girl’s stomacher, expecting whispered protests and shy hands to try to prevent her at any moment, but there was nothing; no unfavourable reaction. Once unlaced, allowing Fazath shadowy glimpses of the tempting milky flesh within, the girl stood as still as a statue as the older woman slipped the garment from her.

  ‘Isn’t that better?’ she cooed, and Ruth nodded shyly as Fazath savoured the way the cascade of red-gold hair tumbled richly over her pale shoulders. Slowly, carefully, Fazath reached out to caress the ripeness of her enticing breasts, but the girl stepped back.

  ‘I must get on with my duties,’ she said, and began to pour water from a pitcher into a porcelain bowl. Perfumed steam rose from the water and Fazath, wondering how she would ever keep her hands off the delicious girl, sat on the edge of the bed and parted her thighs. Oh, how she wished the girl would lick her between them with her pretty tongue, but instead she felt the warm softness of a scrap of flannel being wiped, first over her jet-black bush and then between her sex lips, and it was as much as she could do not to moan with pleasure.

  She watched avidly as Ruth’s pert breasts swayed as she went about her work. Her nipples were taut as though she too was aroused. How she reminded Fazath of Babala! Her hair was a darker red and less golden, but Ruth had that same meekness, that pliant submissiveness that always aroused Fazath.

  When her sex was cleansed and patted dry Fazath lay back, heavy-limbed from her excitement, on the bed. She watched Ruth go about her business, tidying the dressing stand with neat precise movements, and the vision made her shudder with delight.

  What would Ruth do, she wondered, if she jumped from the bed and grabbed that lovely body, held it in her arms and perhaps gave those lovely buns a sound slapping? She would probably scream, and that could be a problem. She looked around for something, anything she could use as a gag. There were the curtain ties; they were long enough to gag her and tie her wrists.

  Unable to resist the alluring beauty any longer, Fazath made her move. Silently she rose and went to the window, and took the ties from their hooks. Sensing movement Ruth turned, and seeing Fazath with the tie she opened her mouth to speak, making it all the easier for the practised woman to push the length between those deliciously soft lips. The rope was wrapped twice around Ruth’s pretty face and tied tightly about her wrists, which Fazath pinned behind her back.

  There was no resistance, Fazath noticed, as she removed her skirt. Was it that the girl was too shocked by her move, or just exquisitely submissive? She picked Ruth up, cradling her in her arms, and felt the slightest shiver run through her light burden, but at that moment could not discern whether it was a shudder of distaste or delight.

  Ruth was placed face down on the brocade cover and Fazath adjusted her tied wrists so that they did not impede her view of those delicious buttocks. Still Ruth did not struggle or make any sign that the treatment was abhorrent to her. She was so like Babala; so submissive, and so sweetly compliant.

  ‘Have you ever been smacked on your bottom?’ Fazath asked huskily.

  Ruth nodded her head against the soft pillows.

  ‘By your father?’

  Again Ruth nodded.

  ‘Why? Because you were naughty?’

  She nodded again.

  ‘Poor girl.’ Fazath stroked the lovely bottom mounds, admiring their perfection and unblemished beauty. The innkeeper, she decided, must be an expert disciplinarian for the buns were quite unmarked, or perhaps it was some time since her last spanking. She noticed Ruth was wriggling slightly, instinctively. Perhaps she enjoyed being spanked, and was hoping to be spanked now. There was no doubt that some girls did relish being chastised by Fazath’s experienced hand.

  The dominant woman raised her arm and Ruth watched over her shoulder with wide sparkling eyes. She lifted her bottom and the slap was loud in Fazath’s ears, and it was so very arousing. She felt an immediate flush of warmth between her cunny lips and a swelling of her clitty. It was so long since she felt like this. Not since she had lost Babala. She could see the scarlet of her handprint on the background of pouting bottom flesh. It was more than a woman like Fazath could bear not to enhance the feeling again with another flat-palmed slap.

  She thought she heard a mew of pleasure, much as Babala used to respond. This only encouraged Fazath to smack harder the third time, and harder still the fourth. Again and again the slaps rained down until the pale flesh was no longer white but scarlet and blotchy, and looking breathtakingly delicious for it.

  ‘I know you are a virgin,’ murmured Fazath, leaning over the trembling girl, ‘and I would not dream of breaking that precious maidenhead of yours, but what would you say to a tongue between these tender buns.’ She illustrated her meaning with a fingertip, drawn between the tight cheeks and allowed to lin
ger at the tiny anus. ‘And when I have brought you to a lovely come,’ she whispered, ‘perhaps we could lie top to tail and you could return the favour?’

  The girl was breathing heavily, but Fazath could not discern whether this was from the pleasure she had already experienced from the smacking or that which was to come from the attentions of her finger and tongue. ‘Come along now,’ she encouraged, ‘what do you think?’

  Ruth wriggled her bottom as if pressing her sex mound into the soft feather bed to gain pleasure from its folds working their way into her pink virginal pleats.

  The bound and gagged girl looked at the seductress over her shoulder, speaking volumes with her pleading eyes.

  ‘Don’t worry, your father is busy with his customers,’ said Fazath, understanding the unspoken question. ‘Does the place between your thighs feel hot and sensitive?’ she asked.

  The girl nodded again, her flame-red hair cascading over the pillows.

  ‘Then let me ease it,’ cajoled Fazath. ‘It will be very pleasant for us both. How old are you, my dear?’ she added. ‘Seventeen... eighteen?’

  The girl mewed softly in answer, and Fazath could feel her excitement mounting. ‘Eighteen,’ she sighed. Babala was a little younger than that when she was first taken to the Taskmaster, she thought.

  She lay down between the girl’s thighs and could smell her freshness. Playfully, she used her long raven hair to tickle the scalded buttocks. Ruth whimpered behind the gag and lifted her sex pouch to ease Fazath’s task.

  ‘Oh, how sweet you are,’ murmured the cunning woman. ‘A pillow beneath your belly will make this all the easier.’ Ruth whimpered again as this was accomplished and tilted her cunny mound to give Fazath full access to her.

  As Fazath expected, the girl’s sex had the delicious smooth fullness of youth, with the lips already engorged about the erect clitoris. They were pink and flushed with beads of milky sap glittering like pearls on the inner folds.

  ‘Do you ever play with yourself?’ Fazath purred, gazing entranced at the succulent sex. ‘When alone in bed at night, for example?’ She stroked the red-gold curls of the outer lips, feeling their plumpness, and then allowed her fingers to part them fully to give her a full view of the pretty picture.

  Ruth, still gagged, could say nothing and Fazath, her own playfulness with the girl making her impatient, slithered up the girl’s smooth body until she could feel the heat of her smacked bottom beneath her own sex. ‘Tell me the truth now,’ Fazath murmured into her ear.

  The pretty face was hot from blushing and there was no need for words. It was obvious what the truth was.

  ‘So you do.’ Fazath remained where she was, stroking the silkiness of her mound back and forth over Ruth’s bottom. ‘You seek out your sex bud with those naughty little fingers and rub it back and forth until that glorious feeling comes over you, and afterwards you lie there, waiting for the pleasure to subside and wishing a man would plunge his cock into you...’ Fazath felt unreasonably angry at the thought, but knew that her real emotion was envy; envy that she did not have a cock to plunge into the girl, to slide in and out on the creamy lubrication of sap. ‘Admit it.’ She coaxed harshly. ‘Isn’t that what you do?’ She slid her hands under the slender body and cupped the full breasts to tweak the hardened pink buds.

  The gag slipped slightly, the cord wet with Ruth’s spittle. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Yes, I do exactly that.’

  ‘I thought so,’ Fazath mused triumphantly, sliding down the girl’s body once more. ‘A girl who enjoys a spanking on her bare bottom as much as you do must also enjoy the feel of her own fingers within her cunny slit.’

  Her fingers probed into the tightness of the bottom cleft, prising it apart to fully reveal the tiny pit of Ruth’s anus. It was like a rosebud, tightly folded and pink. Her tongue lapped out and sampled the clean but earthy taste of it. She heard Ruth moan and felt her wriggle, but Fazath had much more to do to the girl before she was finished.

  She licked again, this time allowing her tongue to slither from the anus all the way down to the tilted beauty of the girl’s cunny. It was soft and fragrant under the touch of her tongue, the flesh as succulent as the juiciest fruit. The girl’s musk was strong but intoxicating. Fazath smiled to herself, knowing the reason; she was acutely excited too. Her clitoris was engorged, the sap flowing freely, and it was all Fazath could do to restrain herself from plunging her fingers into Ruth’s closed female gateway, but she did, keeping her attentions strictly confined to the delights of the swollen sex folds.

  She did, however, press the bud of her anus as she allowed her tongue to slick up and down around her clitty. It was such a delight to feel it pulsing against her tongue, although she knew the girl had not reached her climax yet. She sipped at the juices that were so copious for one so inexperienced. It reminded Fazath of Babala when she first had the opportunity to tongue her. She kissed the juices with soft pecking movements of her pursed lips, and was gratified to hear the delirious mewing of the girl.

  At last she homed in on her clitoris, sucking the hardened and throbbing little morsel over and over again. Slowly, drawing the little slip of skin back along the shaft until the tip was quite bare and available, she caressed it with back and forth laps of her tongue, and all the time she kept the gentlest of pressure on her anal bud.

  ‘Oh, this is so glorious,’ moaned Ruth. ‘Let it go on and on forever. Don’t let it stop, please.’

  The girl had stretched her thighs to their fullest extent and arched her bottom in the air to make her even more fully available to Fazath, and came, her knuckles white as she clutched the bedspread, her orgasm almost violent in its intensity.

  When it was over Fazath lay alongside Ruth, kissing the pale sweep of her throat, the trembling softness of her breasts, the delicate swell of her tummy.

  ‘I want you to do it to me again,’ Ruth said in a whisper. ‘I want you to do it over and over again. It’s never like that when I touch myself. It’s very nice, but nothing like that.’ She kissed Fazath with impulsive innocence. It was a lingering kiss, and she tentatively eased her tongue into Fazath’s mouth. Then she drew back and they gazed into each other’s eyes. Fazath’s were smiling, while Ruth’s were bemused.

  ‘Is that what I taste like?’ She licked her lips as if savouring her own musk. ‘It’s nice.’ She kissed Fazath again, and then asked, ‘Do you taste like that?’

  Fazath smiled and nodded, silently encouraging the girl to investigate for herself, and she sighed as Ruth slid down the bed and, with gentle fingers, eased Fazath’s unresisting thighs apart. This was what she had planned from the first, and she trembled with excitement as the inquisitive fingers opened her cunny and examined it intimately, parting the folds and fingering the hardness of her clitty.

  ‘I’m not hurting you, am I?’ Ruth whispered sweetly.

  ‘Not at all, my dear,’ said Fazath, her voice husky with need.

  ‘Can... can I taste you?’

  Fazath could feel the gentle waft of the girl’s breath, warm and sweet on her open cunny. ‘Of course, my sweet,’ she said, trying to keep her voice steady, ‘but place your legs on either side of my head first.’

  ‘So we can taste each other?’ Ruth said excitedly.

  ‘So we can taste each other,’ Fazath confirmed. Not since Babala had she known such innocence and yet such enthusiasm for sexual pleasure, and could barely contain herself as the toned thighs straddled her head. She felt their smoothness against each cheek and smelled the girl’s musk as her sex nestled over her face. The warm, rich smell was much stronger now after her orgasm, and she felt Ruth’s open sex brushing over her lips and sighed as she sucked on the very tip of her vibrant clitty.

  And then she felt the girl’s inexperienced lips and tongue caress her cunny flesh, felt tentative fingers fumble to part the folds. For all Fazath’s years of experience she could not remember feeling suc
h excitement as her fleshpot was kissed. Every sensation was heightened to an ultimate extent as the tongue stroked the length of each trembling leaf. A fingertip patted the naked point of her clitty.

  Thoughts of Babala were pushed into the background of Fazath’s mind; so heavenly was the taste of this girl, so delicious was the feel of her maiden cunny. What did it matter that she, Fazath, was to be forced to sell her own body to men in an attempt to find Babala? For the moment she had Ruth and her sweet, scarcely touched sex.

  She could feel her orgasm rising from the pit of her stomach. Beautiful warmth spread through her whole body. Her limbs felt heavy and wonderfully lethargic, but she was able to open her legs to their fullest extent to give the girl greater access to her fluttering sex. She wanted to scream her delight, but her mouth was full of the innocent’s sweet sex flesh. She felt a throb of the hardened clitty and then another and another, until the girl was shuddering on top of her in another strong climax.

  ‘Ruth!’ Her name was shouted from along the landing. ‘Damn the girl; she’s never around when she’s needed. Have you finished with the new whore? I have a customer for her.’

  Ruth, her pretty face glossed with sex juices, rolled from Fazath. ‘Father!’ she whispered. ‘We have to hurry. If he finds us...’ She rubbed her naked bottom ruefully, thinking no doubt of the spanking she would receive if they were found together playing such rude games.

  ‘Hide in the cupboard,’ Fazath suggested, and got up to open the roughly hewn door to a hanging wardrobe. ‘What does your father like his girls to wear when they receive customers?’

  Ruth stepped into the cupboard and pulled a flimsy shift from a hook. ‘One of these,’ she said, pushing the garment into Fazath’s hands. ‘Now go quickly - don’t let him find me here like this.’

  Fazath looked at the shift critically, but slipped it on over her head. It scarcely covered her sex bush and dark curls peeped coyly beneath the hem. ‘I might as well be wearing nothing at all,’ she grumbled.