Babala's Correction Page 19

  ‘Well, are they or aren’t they?’ Talito butted in, the prospect of financial gain making him impatient. ‘We don’t want to go trailing back through the town to the tavern unnecessarily, but we do want to find the nobles if it is you they’re searching for.’

  At last Babala nodded. ‘I think they might be. But I don’t know whether there is a reward for me,’ she admitted. ‘The people you mention may be looking to punish me rather than reward you.’

  ‘Oh, I’m going home,’ said Talito, impetuously losing all interest in the lure of a reward. ‘It’s late and I can’t be bothered with a babbling peasant. I want nothing more than to crawl into my bed,’ and he slunk away towards a meandering alleyway set between some mean dwellings at the edge of the market square.

  ‘Well, I’m taking her,’ Malesin called after him. ‘A coffer of shekels would feed my hungry brood for many a long day.’

  Talito waved dismissively over his shoulder without looking back at his friend, and disappeared around a corner.

  So Babala stumbled along beside the man, part of her hoping that the strangers they’d spoken of were the Taskmaster and the Lady Fazath, and a smaller part of her hoping it was not.

  Chapter 13

  Dressed in fresh silk robes, her hair washed and shining and her face glowing with happiness, Babala sank back into the deep velvet cushions of the carriage the Taskmaster had hired to take them back to Ellipses. Her legs were spread and the silk pushed high about her thighs as the Lady Fazath knelt between them.

  ‘Your little cunny looks as inviting as the day I took you from the palace,’ the woman said, and stroked the plump lips, petting them and stroking the golden curls, fluffed and combed to add to the sweet perfection. ‘All those wretched men have not spoiled you at all.’ She parted the outer lips to reveal the erect nubbin within, startlingly pink against the darker flesh. Her lips closed about the little bud and Babala sighed happily, bearing up mischievously to push her nubbin deeper into Fazath’s warm moist mouth. A tongue stroked the succulent flesh, teasing it with petting strokes until Babala began to shudder into a glorious orgasm.

  The Taskmaster slipped a hand into the bodice of her gown, cupping a breast and lifting it so that the hardened nipple peeped over the upper frill of her gown. ‘So different,’ he murmured, ‘so very different.’ He sucked upon the nipple, and the only other sounds were Babala’s contented breathing and the trundle of the carriage wheels over the rough road.

  ‘Am I to be punished?’ she asked, when he raised his head.

  ‘Punished?’ he asked, stroking her flushed cheek. He sat close beside her and she could see the hardened thickness of his cock within his tight hose. ‘Why should you be punished?’

  ‘No, my dear,’ Fazath answered, holding up her manacled wrists. ‘It is I who am to be punished for taking you from the Prince.’ She twisted her body around to allow Babala to see her specially designed gown, cut at the back to allow the whip to fall upon her flesh without hindrance.

  Babala shuddered. ‘Well, what is to happen to me?’

  ‘I am going to marry you,’ said the Taskmaster.

  Babala looked up at him, her eyes wide with disbelief and surprise. She was about to shake her head, to say that she was no longer good enough for him, when the horses were reined in.

  ‘Out!’ bellowed a rough voice from outside the carriage. ‘All of you in there - get out!’

  Babala’s eyes widened with fear.

  ‘Bandits,’ growled the Taskmaster. ‘There are many on the borders of Brentasi and Ellipsis.’

  ‘Out, or do you want to be shot where you sit?’

  The Taskmaster opened the carriage door and helped Babala down.

  ‘And you!’ the bandit roared.

  ‘I am chained to the floor of the carriage,’ said Fazath, and she rattled the chains that kept her secured inside.

  ‘No matter,’ said the bandit, the leader of the gang of three. ‘This one will serve.’ He pulled Babala close to his horse. ‘What say you, Gelput?’

  The rogue named Gelput, a heavyset brute, grunted and reached out to tear at Babala’s bodice, then stared hungrily at her bared breasts and nodded. ‘Aye, she’ll do for me.’

  ‘And you, Patman?’

  Patman finished tying the poor elderly carriage driver to the spokes of one wheel and tore the gown further until Babala’s pussy and the milk-white flesh of her bottom could be seen. ‘That and the coins this gentleman has in his purse will suit very nicely, Manto,’ he concurred, indicating the Taskmaster.

  ‘Have my money!’ the Taskmaster growled vehemently. ‘You’re welcome to it.’ He unfastened the heavy purse at his belt and threw it to the rogue called Manto. ‘But I warn each of you; leave the girl alone.’

  Manto took the purse and hefted it in his hands, clearly pleased with the weight. ‘Tie him up, Patman,’ he ordered, apparently unconcerned about the Taskmaster’s threat, ‘while I take the girl to that clearing over there for some fun.’

  ‘You’ll hang for this,’ the Taskmaster promised, as the other two men restrained him by also tying him to a wheel of the carriage. ‘Each of you; you’ll hang for this.’

  Babala looked over her shoulder at him with pleading eyes, as she was half-dragged, half-carried to the clearing. The new gown was torn from her and she was flung face down over the mossy trunk of a fallen tree. Manto said nothing but his breathing, rasping and quick, told of his excitement. ‘Please, don’t hurt me,’ she whispered.

  ‘Hurt you?’ he said. ‘Nay, my need is such that it won’t take me long to reach my pleasure.’

  She felt fingers prising open her bottom cheeks and the slippery globe of a cock butting at her rose-hole. She held her breath, awaiting the inevitable, and then heard him grunt as her tight entrance yielded and he was able to sink his cock fully inside her, and she pampered his thick stem, hoping she could make him come all the quicker.

  ‘Haven’t you finished yet?’ Babala groaned and looked up; it was Patman leering at them, with Gelput beside him.

  ‘Let us join in,’ demanded the latter. ‘I want my cock between those lovely globes too.’ He lifted his tunic and hefted the stained leather pouch that held his penis. Babala could see the outline of its large dimensions, and closed her eyes in dismay.

  Manto grunted and pulled his cock from her bottom, holding the thick column of flesh in his hands as he anointed her buttocks with his seed, but before she could prepare herself Patman rolled her over onto her back. She tried to close her thighs but they were pushed apart once more.

  ‘None of that, little miss,’ he warned, sinking down between her legs. He, too, had his penis enclosed in a pouch, but he quickly released the thongs that held it about his waist. ‘Now lift your knees,’ he ordered, leering toothlessly down at her as she whimpered, her cunny stretching open around his thrusting cock.

  ‘She’s tight!’ he panted, stabbing his hips at her. ‘Tight as a virgin!’ and then the odour of humid male flesh enveloped Babala as Gelput straddled her face, his heavy balls brushing her forehead as he positioned his penis at her lips.

  ‘Open wide now,’ he giggled, and as she meekly acquiesced his helmet stretched her lips apart and the gnarled column sank between them, filling her mouth and nudging to the back of her throat. He squeezed a hand under her neck and lifted a little to alter the angle of her head, giving him better access into her mouth, and then began to move slowly back and forth on his powerful haunches, gleefully fucking her there...

  ‘Babala! Wake up!’ She could not believe it; she opened her eyes and the Taskmaster was bending over her. Was she dreaming?

  ‘It’s all over,’ he said, picking her up, cradling her in his muscular arms.

  ‘But... what happened?’ she murmured, and tears of relief meandered down her pale cheeks. The three rogues lay nearby, unmoving, and she saw the stains of blood on their tunics and on the
ground, and turned her eyes away, feeling the nausea rise to her throat.

  ‘It was the Lady Fazath,’ he explained as he carried her away from the clearing. ‘She had her knives and the fools hadn’t bothered to search her. Chained though she was, she managed to reach out of the carriage and cut my ropes...’

  ‘And you killed them,’ Babala whispered.

  ‘I did,’ he replied, but said no more.

  ‘And what will become of the Lady Fazath now?’ she asked softly.

  ‘Well,’ he mused, ‘despite her being the cause of all the trouble we’ve been through, I’ll make sure she resumes her position in the palace and is not punished further. After all, if it had not been for her we would all have our throats slit by now.’

  They reached the carriage and freed Fazath and the nervous driver, and then with Babala wrapped in furs and snuggled close beside the Taskmaster they continued on their journey. She smiled to herself and relaxed with the rhythmic movement of the carriage as they drew ever nearer the palace of Ellipsis. Home at last, she thought contentedly.

  Also Available

  Enjoy more erotic damsel in distress adventures by Bethany Amber in Bride of the Revolution and Indecent Intent, both also published by us at Chimera:

  Bride of the Revolution

  She took a fearful glance over her shoulder. They were gaining on her. The slap of their feet on the muddy ground made Grace sob; a sound that caught in her tortured throat. Grace’s chest hurt. She could scarcely draw breath. They were gaining on her, would catch her.

  A huge hand fastened like a vice about her tiny wrist. With a breath she felt must surely be her last she managed a scream of fear. Her flimsy rags, sodden with rain, clung and caressed the length of her creamy body as the man whirled her round...

  Grace, raven-haired and delicately voluptuous, is plucked from the Revolution-torn streets of Paris to be trained by Madame de Genlis, the mistress of Philipe, the Duke of Orleans.

  The training is strict and there are many occasions when Grace dreams of escape, but she is drawn into the decadence and sensuality of the court. Passive and compliant by nature, she cannot help but please those around her.

  Her beauty and submissive ways attract the attention of Lord Fitzpatrick, and she becomes his wife. Little does she know that her mysterious husband leads a dangerous double life into which she cannot help but become embroiled.

  Despite the spankings and humiliation Grace endures at the hands of aristos and revolutionaries alike, she remains unspoilt. Even on the steps of the guillotine her soft smile and revealing gown bring the mob to mesmerised silence.

  But will the mysterious stranger known as the Black Rose save her...?

  Indecent Intent

  ‘You… you must punish me, master.’

  ‘And how should I punish you?’

  Susan nibbled her lower lip anxiously, despite her excitement again bubbling tantalizingly. ‘You, you should spank me, master.’

  Verity smiled above her, gazing down at the beautiful form draped submissively over his lap. He enjoyed the feel of his penis growing inside his trousers, pressing up against her tummy. ‘Very good, my dear; you are right. I should, and I will, spank you.’

  ‘Please…’ murmured the prone girl, instinctively clenching her buttocks a little in anticipation of the coming onslaught. ‘I deserve it, master.’

  Verity stroked her silky smooth bottom a little longer, then his expression became severe again, he raised his hand and paused, watching her tense and hold her breath, making her wait...

  Gabrielle Turner, a poor but gorgeous redhead with eyes the colour of the Caribbean, is on a short trip to Las Vegas from her trailer home in Florida, the trip paid for by her husband, Tom, having enjoyed an infrequent stroke of luck in a card game.

  Indecently rich Marshall Verity propositions the couple and interests Tom in one of his lovely girls, and takes the opportunity to buy Gabrielle and spirit her away to his mansion home, where her life changes to one of utter luxury - but at a price!

  Tiring of Verity’s version of love in which she must be entirely submissive and willing to be humiliated at every opportunity, Gabrielle decides to end it all and jumps from the side of his luxury yacht, upon which she had been displayed like a trophy to Verity’s clients.

  Rescued by a beach bum off Key West, Gabrielle realises for certain that she hates Verity, but when he, Tom, and Robbie, the beach bum, play cards for her, who will win?

  Authors of Erotica

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