Read Online Babala's Correction by Bethany Amber - Free Book Online

probed between her buttocks, ‘feel how deliciously prickly it feels against your bottom bud.’
    Fazath made a feeble attempt to struggle against his attentions, and blushed as she admitted privately that the strands of the cords stimulated her rear opening.
    â€˜And finally...’ the rope was twisted around her slender waist, lying against the swell of her hips. ‘Of course, we must leave your feet free from bonds until we reach the auction. We don’t want to tire ourselves by carrying you. We’ll save our strength to spend the takings of your sale in the tavern.’ Again he let out a loud guffaw before pushing Fazath towards the cave entrance.
    The way out of the cavern seemed perilously steep, and she tried to turn her head, pleading for help from the two men, but only succeeded in half-choking herself.
    At the foot of the steep slope she saw Babala, water streaming from her golden hair and shimmering on her pale skin. Her hands were bound but otherwise her body was free from bonds. The sapphire eyes widened when she saw her mistress and she opened her lips to protest, but Fazath gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head, warning her to hold her tongue.
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    The town square of Brentasi was thronged with onlookers; mostly peasants come to bring their produce to the market, but some to watch the auction of slaves, which was always good for an hour’s entertainment. The crowd grew bigger as hundreds more entered the square.
    They were roughly clad in brief tunics which, as they balanced the baskets of fruit and vegetables upon head or hip, rode up to bare their unfettered genitals. The girls and men alike took the opportunity to fondle each other. Slender feminine fingers ringed stiffened cocks while stout fingers, rough from farm work, slipped into warm and willing cunnies.
    And it didn’t end there. The day was hot and it heated the blood. Several couples sank to the cobbled square, the girls with their thighs parted and the men impaled within them. There was nothing like the auction to stimulate a good fuck.
    Babala, tired from the two day march to the town and what had gone before, looked dully at the scene. Even the sounds of couples grunting their pleasure did not arouse her interest, although she heard the excited murmurs of the crowd as she and the Lady Fazath were pushed roughly into the square by the guards. Hands reached out to feel her naked breasts and went further, pushing between her thighs to stroke her fleshpot.
    â€˜You can’t afford that one,’ said Bart, giving the perpetrator of the intimacy a sharp blow on the shoulder with his whip. ‘Don’t touch.’
    â€˜And this one?’ said the peasant, cupping Fazath’s breasts and not at all put out by Bart’s rebuke. ‘She looks well used. Maybe I could afford her.’
    His companions sniggered and gathered round to join in the fun, their hands reaching between Fazath’s thighs, feeling the rope that had buffed between her sex lips for these two long days. They remarked how saturated the cord was, how hard her clitty had become, how deeply the bond had cut into the valley between her bottom cheeks.
    â€˜Enough of this!’ growled Capel. ‘Bid for the woman if you want her, but we warn you, she’s a wild cat.’
    As if to confirm this Fazath made a flying leap with both feet, knocking two of her tormentors to the cobbled ground of the square.
    The Slavemaster, hearing the disturbance and noting the two spectators dragging themselves to their feet from the blow, was quick to leave the podium and stride to the scene. In his hand he held a long whip; leather, softened from years of usage. The handle was intricately carved and bulbous at the end.
    â€˜What is all this?’ he demanded, the whip cracked ominously, and he eyed her up and down, noting the fading marks on her breasts and belly. ‘Are these women for the auction?’ He used a finger and thumb to