Babala's Correction Read Online Free PDF Page A

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.
    â€˜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.
    He complimented her upon her willingness to please. ‘Good girl,’ said the Taskmaster. ‘Excellent.’
    She stood passively as he stroked the fullness of her breasts through the fine material of the gown. With her hands upon her head these were lifted prettily, inviting his caresses. Unlike the naughty girls she was looking forward to his taking of her innocence, and her destined life in the Prince’s harem.
    Boldly, with her sapphire eyes invitingly wide, she smiled at him. He was a huge man and towered above her, naked apart from a square of jewelled leather tied about his narrow waist with a thong. The skimpy garment scarcely covered the upright thickness of his cock. He slipped the leather to the side, giving her sight of it. Even with her excitement heightened the way it was Babala had to gasp at its length and girth, at the almost spherical globe that was bare of foreskin and gleaming with his pre-issue.
    â€˜Are you ready for this, my girl?’ he asked in his deep tones.
    It was then that he did the test with the looking glass, making Babala lift her gown and part her legs, thrusting