Babala's Correction Read Online Free PDF

out her mound and spreading her sex lips. When she carried out his orders obediently he was pleased and knelt before her, giving her little kisses upon her open cunny.
    Babala’s legs shook with anticipated pleasure and she could feel her cunny pulsing with pre-orgasmic shudders.
    At last he rose to his feet. ‘What a pleasure to have such a yielding girl; it has been a difficult morning and I fail to understand why these girls present themselves to be part of the Prince’s harem if they must be punished to make them amenable.’
    Once more he petted her breasts, feeling their heaviness and the smooth lower slopes. He fingered each teat through the gossamer, pulling them to tautness. ‘These are beautiful,’ he said, his voice full of genuine admiration. ‘The very sort in which the Prince delights.’ He ripped open the fine cloth, making Babala blush at this sudden exposure, and placed his lips about each. Then he draped the sheer material over each and began to suck the pink teats through it, until the wet cloth clung to her nipples, showing the qualities that would please the Prince to perfection. The touch of his lips was incredibly sensual and Babala thought she might swoon with pleasure if he continued.
    â€˜Time to relieve you of the gown, my girl,’ he said at last, lifting his head and smiling into her eyes. He walked away from her and took a pair of scissors from an instrument table, and Babala could not help wondering: why bother with scissors when he had ripped the gown open to her waist?
    After a moment’s hesitation he took up something else, items that glowed in the flickering light of the many candles set about the room.
    Trembling as the gown was cut from ankle to throat and fell away to lie about her feet in a soft puddle of white, Babala ventured a look at the table from which the Taskmaster had taken the scissors. It was covered with many instruments; manacles, dainty whips, porcelain pots of salves and balms, as well as lengths of chain, the sight of which made her shudder, not from fear, but with breathless apprehension.
    Naked before him, her hands again obediently clasped and linked upon her head, Babala could feel the brush of his cock upon the skin of her lower belly. She felt a quiver of longing ripple through her fleshpot and hoped he would not notice it and think her forward.
    â€˜These may pinch a little, my dear,’ he said, and Babala lowered her eyes and saw silver clips in each of his large hands. There were tiny teeth on each prong of the clips and she shivered as she imagined the pain. He opened them and stroked the sharp teeth against the base of each puckered bud of her nipple. She shuddered again, but it was not from fear, she was sure. Very slowly, the Taskmaster closed the clips over each bud, and Babala gasped.
    â€˜The pain is quite exquisite, is it not, my love?’ he whispered huskily. ‘Delicious... you cannot believe how those tiny pains will enhance the beauty of my entrance into your body.’
    A scarcely audible mew came from Babala’s full lips as the clips tightened upon each teat. She felt her breast flesh swell, the skin of her lower belly flutter and a moistening of her fleshpot.
    â€˜You look more beautiful than ever, my sweet,’ said the Taskmaster, admiringly. His hands rested for a moment on the curve of Babala’s hips, feeling the gentle shelf of them. ‘And now it is time for me to examine your potential.’
    He led her from the anteroom to another inner chamber. It was darker than the first, with fewer candles placed about. Exotic scents filled the air that made Babala’s head spin and her legs scarcely able to support her.
    A shadow in the furthest corner of the room shaped itself into a chair as Babala approached it. Her arms ached from being held so long upon her head. Her breasts became more swollen and her teats sore with every step, and yet it did not feel like torture. It was a