Free Babala's Correction by Bethany Amber

her eyes. The Slavemaster enjoyed her, that much was plain, but then threw her from him like a used dishrag. For the first time in her life she felt shame in her talent for giving pleasure to men. Even the guards had not made her feel so humiliated, for all their cruelty and taunting.
    As she stumbled through the square, led by Bart, men lifted their tunics and thrust out their cocks lewdly. Women spat at her and spread their thighs, arched their hips, or stuck their fingers between their sex lips, pushing them in and out like cocks.
    â€˜Whore!’ spat one woman.
    â€˜Harlot!’ hissed another.
    Helpless though she was in her almost total bondage, the Lady Fazath gave a few well-placed kicks, scattering the bullies like dominoes falling one after the other. Babala lifted her head just enough to give Fazath a look of gratitude.
    At last they reached the podium. Graf, Capel, Bart and Peli positioned themselves as close to the small stage as they could. The other girls waiting to be sold were clad in simple white gowns, which although flimsy, preserved just a little modesty. Looking at them surreptitiously Babala could not help the envy that twisted in her stomach. They looked so clean and neat, almost virginal, and even more, they had no marks left by the whip. Babala’s cramped hands strayed to the latest welt, the one that spanned her waist from the Slavemaster’s lash.
    â€˜We have an excellent parcel of slave girls for you this morning, ladies and gentlemen,’ cried the Slavemaster. The babble of the crowd died to a soft murmur at his commanding voice. He pushed a slender dark-haired girl forward. Babala judged her age to be no more than her own.
    â€˜This one will make an excellent body slave for some discerning gentleman,’ he continued and, as he spoke, he ripped the girl’s gown to bare her breasts. They were pert, the nipples small, pink as a maiden’s. ‘These will fill out nicely with regular treatment,’ he added, and patted each breast in turn, first with his fingers and then lifting the delicate curve of the underswell with the whip handle.
    The girl blushed with humiliation and tried to gather the torn folds of her gown together to hide her breasts.
    â€˜Stop that!’ ordered the Slavemaster. ‘You are here to be shown, and do you think your new master will allow such false modesty?’
    The crowd sniggered and the girl choked back a sob as the Slavemaster ripped her gown further, baring a flat belly that was adorned by a gold ring at her navel. From the ring were suspended two fine gold chains that were pulled to the girl’s crotch, and Babala could see a glint of gold where the outer lips of her cunny split.
    â€˜This one has been kept chaste,’ said the Slavemaster, with a meaningful look at Babala. ‘She was properly brought up and her sex pouch has been kept unsullied by men. Her mistress kept her cunt behind this golden door.’ He slapped the girl’s inner thighs with the whip handle to indicate that she should spread them. ‘Tilt,’ he ordered brusquely.
    Obediently, the girl did as she was told and the crowd’s murmur grew as between the parted legs they saw a fitted gold cup, locked about the girl’s body by the fine chains.
    â€˜Turn round,’ he commanded, ‘and bend forward, thighs kept nicely apart.’ The girl, in her embarrassment, hesitated, although only for a moment. ‘Do as you’re told!’ The crack of a palm upon a curvaceous buttock broke the sudden hushed silence in the market square.
    Babala bit her lip as she heard sobs break in earnest and saw the girl’s spread legs tremble as she bent forward. Again an excited murmur ran through the crowd. Between the parted buttocks could clearly be seen a gold padlock, positioned exactly at the girl’s bottom hole.
    â€˜She must ask to be released for natural purposes,’ explained the Slavemaster. ‘Such a ploy keeps