Babala's Correction Read online

  ‘Oh, go quickly!’ pleaded Ruth. ‘Greet the customer and when father returns to the ale room I shall dress and join him.’ She smiled fleetingly. ‘Oh, but I have enjoyed myself,’ she confided. ‘Perhaps I could see you again later tonight... all night.’

  ‘Whenever you wish, my sweet,’ Fazath said dreamily. ‘Whenever you wish.’

  ‘Ruth! Wherever are you hiding?’ The rough voice was angry and Fazath heard heavy footsteps outside the door.

  ‘Quickly now,’ she warned, closing the wardrobe door and lifting her chin to face the innkeeper.

  ‘There you are.’ Fazath was greeted with a sharp slap on her bare bottom. ‘Where’s my daughter? Where’s Ruth?’

  Fazath shrugged. ‘I believe you have a customer for me?’ she said, avoiding the question.

  The innkeeper sniggered. ‘Indeed I have. He’s an elderly soul, but I thought quite appropriate for you. He won’t be too demanding - won’t wear you out, if you get my meaning.’ He sniggered again, grabbed Fazath’s elbow and led her out to a room at the far end of the dimly lit landing.

  ‘I’ll have you know,’ said Fazath, ‘that you’re talking to a woman in the prime of life.’

  ‘Is that so?’ retorted the innkeeper. ‘Then you’ll have the strength to work on this customer until he is satisfied, won’t you? It’ll probably take all night.’

  He pushed Fazath through the door and slammed it shut, leaving her alone with her first customer. Her heart sank; she had promised Ruth that they would meet secretly later, but by the look of the wizened old gent standing by the window there would be no later!

  All night, thought Fazath; all week might be nearer the truth. He was hunched and held the small of his back as though beset with backache. What hair he had was grizzled and unkempt, and he lent on a walking stick, which was as crooked as he was.

  ‘Well, Fazath,’ the old fellow croaked.

  ‘You know my name?’

  The old fellow cackled, but then straightened up determinedly, snatched off the hairpiece and threw away the stick as he marched over to her.

  ‘Taskmaster!’ she beamed, greatly relieved.

  He pulled her close to him, moulding his body to her almost naked one. His lips claimed hers and his tongue probed her mouth. ‘A familiar but pleasant aroma,’ he remarked with a knowing grin. ‘What have you been up to while I risked my welfare to come and rescue you from this hellhole?’

  ‘Risked your welfare?’ Fazath could not keep the irony from her voice. ‘What about me? You throw me into a brothel to be abused by all and sundry—’

  ‘Never mind that,’ he interrupted her, and then lifted the shift and cupped her sex, letting his middle finger slide deep into the soft wetness. No matter how hard she tried Fazath could not escape his grip and was powerless to stop his intimate investigation. ‘You’ve found some girl to service you,’ he said. ‘Is it Babala? Have you found her?’

  ‘No, it isn’t Babala.’

  ‘You say that in a tone of annoyance,’ said the Taskmaster, ‘as though Babala is no longer important to you. As though she is no longer the girl you risked your life and endured so much for.’

  ‘Of course she’s still important to me!’

  ‘But you’ve found someone who excites you more,’ said the Taskmaster. ‘That’s it, isn’t it?’

  ‘She’s a virgin,’ Fazath confessed breathlessly, ‘and so innocent. But she is so sensual too. You would desire her just as much as I do.’

  The Taskmaster sat in a chair. ‘Then I want her too.’

  Fazath shook her head, fearing the worst. ‘But you can’t; she’s a beautiful virgin. Besides, we must see if Babala is here and get away quickly. To linger would be folly.’

  ‘Then she’s my kind of girl,’ he mused. ‘I haven’t savoured such innocence since your stupidity and greed tore me away from the Prince’s palace. But you are right that we must find Babala, so fetch the girl quickly and bring her to me,’ he demanded.

  ‘But she’s the innkeeper’s daughter,’ Fazath protested. ‘You’ll risk bringing all sorts of trouble upon us if you take her virginity.’

  He chuckled. ‘Have faith, Fazath. I will not endanger us - I promise. Now bring her to me,’ he urged confidently.

  ‘Please, Taskmaster, let’s just see if Babala is being employed here, and if she is we get her out, and if she isn’t we get out ourselves...’

  At that moment there was a tentative tap on the door and it opened almost immediately. Ruth, in her skirt and tightly laced bodice, her pert breasts clearly evident above the white ruffle, stood there, her eyes immediately drawn to the bulge in the Taskmaster’s lap.

  ‘Oh, um, I’m s-so sorry, sir,’ she spluttered awkwardly. ‘Sorry, miss,’ she added to Fazath, and then took a retrograde step to close the door and leave them alone.

  ‘No, don’t go,’ the Taskmaster said smoothly, making no move to distract from the evidence of his excitement, induced by talk of the very girl who now stood peeping sheepishly at it from lowered eyes. ‘Come in, my dear, and close the door behind you.’ He smiled, and gave Fazath a surreptitious wink. ‘You are Ruth, the innkeeper’s daughter?’ Without shame he cupped the bulge and gave it a suggestive squeeze.

  ‘Really, I must go,’ Ruth blustered. ‘I should not have...’ But she made no further move to retreat, only stared at the Taskmaster’s impressive swelling, being rhythmically moulded through his hose by one hand. Then Ruth’s brow furrowed endearingly as she pondered the situation. She looked from the Taskmaster to Fazath, and then back to the Taskmaster, her eyes drawn again to his moving hand and the lump beneath it, her tongue instinctively moistening her pouting lips. And still she made no move to close the door or leave the room.

  The Taskmaster smiled and held out his free hand in invitation. ‘Come here, my dear,’ he said silkily, luring her to him. ‘Come and sit with me.’

  Ruth glanced shyly at Fazath, as if silently asking what she should do, and when the woman nodded she closed the door and moved, as though in a dream, unable to do anything else, to the sitting man. He smiled up at her, patted his thighs, and the girl perched elegantly upon them.

  Fazath, resigned to the Taskmaster getting what he wanted and now hoping he’d take his pleasure quickly so they could leave the potentially dangerous place, watched anxiously as he stroked the upper slopes of the girl’s breasts, pushed up by the tightly laced stomacher, and watched the beautiful innocent’s head loll back as he leaned forward and kissed the milk-white flesh, burying his face in the soft warmth of her shadowy cleavage. Oh, how the woman envied him!

  ‘A virgin,’ he sighed between kisses on the upper slopes of her luscious twin globes, ‘but a willing slave.’

  He looked up at Fazath; whose eyes sparkled with envious excitement and real concern that the longer they stayed the longer they courted trouble. ‘We once knew a girl just like you, my dear,’ he whispered enigmatically. ‘Did we not, Fazath?’ He spanned Ruth’s waist with a strong arm, so tightly nipped by the stomacher, and allowed his hand to slide down over the swell of her bottom.

  Fazath sighed. ‘We did. Poor Babala; perhaps we shall never see her again.’

  Ruth’s breasts lifted invitingly as she breathed deeply, trying to control her confused emotions. Her hands lay together in her lap, mere inches from the column of turgid flesh that lay coiled in the confines of his clothing. She lowered her eyes attractively and looked down at her feet, anxiously nibbling her lower lip.

  The click of the door being locked sounded loud in the room and Ruth looked up, startled, and then turned to Fazath, and then to the Taskmaster.

  ‘Do you know of the girl we talk about?’ he asked.

  Ruth shook her head. ‘No sir, I don’t think I do.’

  ‘Are you sure, my dear?’ he persisted. ‘Do I need to put you over my lap to get to the truth?’

  ‘S-sir?’ sh
e stammered, looking round to Fazath for support, and the Taskmaster used the advantage of her distraction to grasp her waist and flip her over his knees. She squealed instinctively, but Fazath, now understanding his insistence on meeting the girl, was quick to plug her mouth with a flannel she found beside the requisite bowl of water.

  ‘I’m going to lift your skirt now, my dear,’ he said, his voice betraying nothing of the excitement that Fazath knew he felt. ‘And then we’ll see how much you know about the girl we seek.’

  ‘Mm, mmmm,’ Ruth protested incoherently, kicking her dainty feet and struggling unconvincingly against the strong hand that pinned her wrists into the small of her back.

  Fazath watched the spanking in silence, breathlessly turned on by the erotic scene; the girl twisting and writhing on the man’s lap, him holding her there with relative ease, his free hand lifting and sweeping down to strike the delicious twin globes of the girl’s quivering bottom with relentless precision. What a delicious sight!

  The girl’s eyes were wide with chagrin, and they glistened wetly as tears of shame meandered down her flushed cheeks, soaking into the flannel that shaped her lips into a perfect O. Her breasts, squashed against the outside of his thigh, heaved as she sobbed and their ripeness threatened to spill from the tight confines of her bodice with every juddering strike on her rear. How Fazath yearned to bury her face in that beckoning cleavage!

  The mouth-watering buttocks quaked as the hard slaps rained down, and the girl mewled with pain and pleasure and her feet stilled as confusion and tiredness took their toll. The Taskmaster’s hand slowed and the power behind the blows eased, and eventually stopped altogether, and the girl slumped wearily over his lap, her hair sweeping the floor.

  With practised ease the powerful man lifted her once more into a sitting position on his lap, savouring her sweet grimace as her punished bottom came into contact with his thighs, enjoying her delicate weight pressing down on his immense erection.

  As Fazath was drawn closer by the delicious site of the submissive girl sitting meek and exhausted, and placed a comforting arm around her shoulder, the Taskmaster kissed the salty tears that stained her pink cheeks.

  ‘Now, what do you know of the girl we seek?’ he asked again in gentle tones, lightly undoing the laces of her bodice as Fazath cuddled her and kissed the top of her head.

  ‘Honestly, sir,’ Ruth responded in hushed tones, seemingly unaware of the hand working at her front. ‘I don’t know who you are talking about or anything about her.’

  The Taskmaster looked at Fazath, his hand finishing its task with the laces and slipping inside the tight bodice to mould one of the girl’s firm breasts, her nipple hard against his palm. He nodded, almost imperceptibly, and Fazath gave a faint smile of agreement, understanding his meaning.

  ‘Very well, young lady,’ he said. ‘If you say you know nothing, then we believe you. So we will go now and leave you to your evening duties.’

  ‘Oh...’ The girl frowned, disappointment furrowing her brow.

  ‘Unless you would like us to stay a little longer...’ he coaxed, reading her emotions with ease.

  ‘I think I would, sir,’ she said honestly, ‘but I am a virgin and I must stay that way. My father would kill any man who took my innocence before wedlock.’

  ‘We understand that,’ said Fazath, kissing Ruth’s hot forehead, the allure of the girl overriding her concerns of outstaying their welcome.

  ‘But you do have a delightful bottom,’ the Taskmaster hinted carefully, not wanting to alarm the girl. ‘And it would remain our secret. Your innocence will remain intact, and your father will never be any the wiser.’

  Ruth, fully understanding his meaning, blushed even deeper as she pondered his suggestion. ‘But, it would hurt, surely?’ she said.

  ‘We will make sure that you feel nothing but pleasure,’ he assured her.

  ‘How?’ she asked, unable to hide her desire to consent to their wishes.

  ‘As the master penetrates your bottom I shall attend to your cunny,’ Fazath told her. ‘How does that sound?’

  ‘It... it sounds heavenly, mistress,’ she admitted, and her lips peeled open to accept the woman’s passionate kiss as the Taskmaster fully opened her bodice and lowered his head to suck one of her rigid nipples into his mouth.

  ‘Come then, my dear,’ he said, releasing the delicious orb after a few minutes of very pleasurable suckling, ‘the Lady Fazath will take you to the bed...’

  Chapter 12

  Babala, relieved of her chains, was left in the market square amid the garbage; the spoiled tomatoes, the rotting cabbage leaves and the trampled root vegetables.

  She was hungry. Maxim’s guards had been sparing with the scraps they’d fed her, and she was terribly thirsty.

  She nibbled on a cabbage leaf and examined a carrot, which did not seem to be too spoiled. It was better than nothing, at least. Despite her awful predicament she could not help fearing for the welfare of dear Huru, and she wondered how he was, left by Maxim’s men in the forest. Once her ordeal was over, one way or another, she would go back to find him and take him to the safety of Ellipsis. She owed him that much, at the very least.

  The market was closed, the stalls empty and dark, filled with shadows, and she heaved a sigh of relief that she would not be seen in her nakedness. She huddled beneath a stall, her knees drawn up to her breasts and her bottom chilled on the damp cobblestones, nibbling on her meagre meal. The cabbage leaf did nothing to appease her hunger, so she was about to start upon the carrot when she was startled by a voice nearby.

  ‘I’m sure I saw a girl,’ someone said. ‘It wasn’t my imagination. She was naked, with long golden hair; a real beauty.’

  ‘What would a girl be doing in this place at such a late hour?’ demanded another. ‘You’ve been drinking too much ale, Malesin.’

  ‘That couple in the tavern; the nobles,’ went on Malesin, ignoring the accusation that he had one tankard too many. ‘Didn’t they say they were looking for a girl?’

  ‘No, the woman was just a whore,’ the other snorted. ‘Didn’t you see how lascivious she was?’

  ‘I tell you, I saw a girl,’ insisted Malesin, getting back to the main point.

  Babala tried to make herself small, huddling in the darkest corner beneath the stall, her hunger and the carrot forgotten, but at that moment her wrist was grabbed and she was hauled from the darkness. She gave a small scream and tried to pull away from her captor, but she was much weakened by what she had suffered over the last few days and the man was as strong as an ox.

  ‘What did I tell you?’ Malesin beamed triumphantly. ‘I knew I saw a girl skulking at the edge of the town. This is the one, the girl the nobles were looking for. I’m sure of it.’

  ‘She is beautiful,’ agreed the other, reaching out to cup her grimy cheek in the silvery moonlight. Babala again tried to struggle, but the men were far too strong for her and she was drained from her treatment at the hands of Maxim’s guards.

  ‘And what were you going to do with this carrot, girl?’ asked Malesin.

  ‘I - I was hungry, sir,’ she said wearily. ‘I didn’t think anyone would miss it, since it was thrown among the garbage.’

  ‘Mm,’ said the other, a salacious glint in his brooding eyes, ‘I could dream up a few better uses for it...’

  But Babala wasn’t listening, although she instinctively inched away a little as the two men crowded even closer, their rough hands taking sneaky liberties with her body. The men had spoken of two nobles...

  ‘Talito, my friend,’ Malesin croaked, ‘this little minx is turning me on.’

  ‘Let’s get her on the trestle,’ Talito panted, ‘on her back.’

  As they manhandled Babala she stared at them with unseeing eyes. What if the nobles were who she prayed they might be? She scarcely dared to hope, but her hopes soared nonetheless. Could it tru
ly be the Taskmaster and the Lady Fazath?

  ‘Come on, my little beauty,’ Talito grunted as he half-lifted half-shuffled her back to a market trestle. ‘We’re going to have some fun together.’

  ‘Wait, please,’ Babala said quietly, as though in a dream, ‘the nobleman... what did he look like?’

  Hands mauled her thighs and breasts as she was shunted up a little so that her bottom perched on the edge of the trestle. ‘What does it matter?’ Malesin snapped impatiently. ‘We’ve more pressing needs than any he might have,’ and Babala felt her hand being pulled down by the wrist to cup an urgent bulge within his tunic. ‘Ah...’ he sighed heavily and pressed her fingers tightly around his shaft, ‘feel that, girl. Feel what’s awaiting you.’

  What if the Taskmaster had come to find her? Would she be punished severely by the palace nobles? Or would she be welcomed home? Babala’s tummy turned excitedly at the thought. Home! The safety of the palace and the pampering she had always been afforded there. She frowned, thinking of the Lady Fazath, and hoped the Taskmaster had punished her severely for taking her from the palace and putting her through weeks of torment.

  Just then Malesin drew back a little, a cunning glint in his eyes. ‘You know, I’ll bet my last shekel there’s a reward for this young hussy,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘I’ll bet I’m right and she is the girl the nobles are searching for.’

  ‘A reward?’ Talito was suddenly more interested in his companion’s words than the delicious girl sitting submissively at his mercy. ‘Do you think?’

  ‘It could well be her...’ Malesin pondered, trying to appear wise. He dragged Babala from the trestle and looked intently into her face in the chill of the creeping dawn. ‘Could there be anyone, a noble, who might be looking for you?’ he asked her.

  So exhausted was she that she hung her head and shook it. ‘I don’t know, sir. Maybe, maybe someone seeks me, but I can’t be sure.’