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

inquisitively grasp one of Babala’s nipples and lift her breast. She whimpered at the action, but held her head high and gave him a defiant stare.
    â€˜Yes,’ said Bart. ‘We’ve walked two days to get here. Is there space?’
    The Slavemaster used the handle of his whip to trace the dip of Babala’s waist and the luscious curve of her hip. ‘Are they obedient? Arch your body, girl, so I may inspect your sex.’
    â€˜Very obedient,’ Graf said quickly. ‘As you can see, sir.’
    The Slavemaster grunted and used the folded whip to probe between Babala’s thighs.
    â€˜She should fetch a good price, sir, eh?’ said Bart eagerly.
    The Slavemaster used the bulb of the handle to open Babala’s sex purse to its fullest extent. He thrust it back and forth within her and thumbed the tip of her clitty. ‘She’s been well used,’ he decided. ‘Very well used, and her skin is marked by the lash.’ He turned to the men, but did not halt the thrust of the carved wood within Babala. ‘Are you sure she’s obedient?’
    â€˜You can see how willing she is, sir,’ said Graf.
    â€˜Maybe too willing,’ said the Slavemaster, noting Babala was in the throes of a gentle climax she could not control. The whip handle was pulled from her body unceremoniously, and Babala hung her head in shame at being so easily pleasured before the rough crowd.
    â€˜Still,’ he conceded, ‘perhaps some merchant will take her for his plaything. One never knows how these auctions will go.’
    â€˜I’m sure she’ll fetch a mountain of shekels,’ persuaded Bart.
    â€˜Really?’ The Slavemaster raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘Well, I am not. And as for this harridan...’ He gave an ironic smirk as he turned to the Lady Fazath. ‘Well-developed muscles,’ he commented, squeezing Fazath’s biceps. ‘Is she, perchance, of military background? She could be of use in Brentasi’s guard.’ He used his whip to part the woman’s buttocks and to examine her rear hole. ‘But perhaps not,’ he concluded, answering his own statement as he fingered the opening to knuckle depth. ‘This has been overused. A military woman would fight for all she was worth to preserve that chastity.’
    The men looked at each other sheepishly and gazed down at their feet, shuffling them uncomfortably in the market debris.
    â€˜Why is she bound so?’ asked the Slavemaster, fingering the rope that went from Fazath’s wrists, down over her belly, pressing into the fleshy pad of her pussy mound, causing it to tighten about her neck and over her belly. Fazath coughed, but her expression was far from plaintive; rather her anger was plainly marked on her features and she hissed between gritted teeth at her tormentor.
    â€˜A wild cat,’ commented the Slavemaster, but showed no concerns as he inspected her sex, easing the rope to one side and fully parting her sex folds.
    â€˜Careful, sir,’ warned Bart. ‘She’s lithe on her feet.’
    â€˜I noted the disturbance among the crowd,’ said the Slavemaster, but did not halt his inspection. ‘A good length on the clitoris,’ he commented, as he pushed back the hood to bare the tip. ‘That’s always a favourite with the women who delight in their own kind.’ He continued to roll the slip of skin back and forth, thumbing the tip as he did so. Fazath grated her pubis in a rhythm that matched his attentions and Babala noted that her mistress’s eyes became heavy about the lids.
    When he was satisfied the woman was close to her climax he stopped, giving Fazath’s cunny a pat as he did so. ‘Yes, she will be greatly sought after by certain women.’
    â€˜Finish it, you fiend!’ hissed Fazath, her dark eyes flashing wildly. She tugged at the rope, trying with all her might to reach her cunny with her bound fingers, but