Free Babala's Correction by Bethany Amber Page A

them subservient, you see, ladies and gentlemen.’
    The girl was pushed to the very edge of the podium and her tattered gown was drawn from her shoulders to leave her completely naked. The Slavemaster ordered her to stand with legs apart and cunny tilted to display the chastity cup and the plump flesh lips that cocooned its sides.
    â€˜Head up and dry your eyes,’ hissed the Slavemaster, chucking the girl under the chin with the whip handle. ‘Look boldly upon the crowd and try to smile. Do you think your new master will enjoy a girl who weeps and is afraid when he approaches with his cock at the ready to open her maidenhead?’
    Babala’s guards were amazed at the number of shekels the girl fetched, and they looked enviously as she was taken away by her new owner, a large man with fierce eyes and a whip held ready in his free hand. The girl looked pleadingly over her shoulder at Babala, but there was nothing to be done. Nothing.
    At last it was Babala’s turn to be pushed to the front of the podium, and the Slavemaster was scathing in his remarks about her.
    â€˜A beauty, this one,’ he said, ‘but much used, I’m afraid, ladies and gentlemen. She is also marked by the whip, although she heals well.’ He turned Babala round and tapped the round hillocks of her bottom to point out the paling welts. ‘And here,’ he said, turning her again to lift her breasts and stroke her belly. He tapped her again. ‘Tilt to reveal your cunny, girl.’
    Sapphire eyes wide with pleading, Babala shook her head almost imperceptibly, knowing that the Slavemaster’s seed was still coating the golden curls of her outer lips.
    â€˜Tilt!’ he snapped, slapping her breasts, so with legs tensed and parted Babala tilted her cunny forward as he demanded.
    â€˜Use your fingers to reveal yourself further.’ His voice was low and his dark eyes hooded with lust as he gave the order.
    It would do her no good to disobey, Babala knew that, so with trembling fingers she peeled open her outer lips. At the sight of the juicy folds and flushed pink nubbin the crowd gave a howl of glee that rose to a roar when the Slavemaster tapped the bud with the tip of his whip.
    â€˜A beautiful sight, ladies and gentlemen, is it not?’ he said. ‘This girl could become quite a conversation piece within your household.’
    It was then that he began to push the bulbous knob of the whip handle into the slippery folds. ‘But nothing is perfect,’ he continued. ‘She is well used here...’
    Babala clutched the bulb with her cunny muscles to show that she remained tight, but the Slavemaster made no mention of it, simply turned her round roughly. ‘And here,’ he added, forcing her to bend, the whip handle bulb played about her rear hole.
    â€˜I do not expect you to pay a great deal for such used goods,’ announced the Slavemaster, almost sorrowfully. ‘She allowed herself to be used by rough soldiers and they were a little too playful, a little too boisterous in their usage.’ He frowned at the guards, shook his head and tutted in a chiding manner.
    The crowd was silent until one woman cried out, ‘Whore!’ and others took up the cry until the square was a hubbub of catcalls.
    â€˜Quite right, my dear ladies and gentlemen,’ he said, grinning widely until the catcalls died down. ‘Nothing but a whore, so I’ll have her taken below and then send her to be used in the taverns.’
    â€˜What do you mean?’ asked Bart. ‘She gets nothing? Not a shekel?’
    The Slavemaster shrugged as he handed her over to a jailer who stood at the back of the podium. ‘I’m afraid so. Too used, you see.’
    Babala hung her head in humiliation as the Slavemaster’s helper stepped forward. ‘Jailer,’ he said, ‘take her below until I have time to deal with her.’
    The jailer was a filthy creature and Babala cringed