Babala's Correction (19 page)

‘T-take her place?' She could feel every contour of his body, could feel his cock rigid against his stomach, and knew he was greatly excited at the prospect of her degradation before the assembled guests.

‘Yes, my darling wife,' he sneered, already unfastening the buttons down the front of her gown until it slipped apart and slid from her pale shoulders, leaving her naked apart from her high-heeled ankle boots.

 

 

 

Babala shivered in the chill of the night air and her new friend and ally clutched her to him as they walked, a sturdy arm squeezing her shoulders reassuringly.

‘Where are you going with that girl?' demanded a guard, who stood on the drawbridge of the castle.

Even in the moonlit gloom Babala saw him stare hungrily at her body, and was so grateful for the presence of Huru.

‘I have orders to throw her over the crag,' he said.

‘What a waste,' grumbled the guard, licking his fat lips. ‘Who would know if I took my pleasure before you do it, Huru?' He cast his large colleague a fleeting questioning glance, but his piggy eyes quickly returned to crawl all over the lovely girl.

‘I would,' said Huru, holding Babala closer, ‘but—'

‘What harm would it do?' the guard cut in, his tunic now fully lifted and his cock rigid and throbbing in his hands. ‘Just give me a few minutes with her... come on, my friend.'

Babala snuggled closer into Huru's trunk-like arms, but still felt anxious.

‘If she's going over the crag anyway,' the guard persisted, ‘it won't matter what we do to her. You and I could have our fill of her and no one would ever know any different.'

‘I would know,' said Huru. ‘Now leave us be.'

But not to be put off such a rare and tasty treat so easily, the guard raised his pike threateningly and aimed it at Huru's face. ‘You're planning on having the whore for yourself,' he accused venomously.

Babala felt Huru tense and sensed his rising anger. ‘And what if I am?' he asked dangerously, staring at the guard, challenging him. Nothing more was said, only the gusting night wind disturbing the tense silence, the cloaks they wore, and Babala's hair, silvery in the moonlight.

The guard stood up to Huru, but gradually his bravado and his erection waned as he clearly recognised the folly of challenging such a powerful figure. The pike lowered. Huru helped it on its way with a backhand swipe, and Babala sighed with relief as the deadly tip clattered on the ground at her feet.

‘Very well, Huru,' said the guard, ‘I have no argument with you, and no whore is worth spilling blood over. Take her to the crag.' He cast an evil eye at Babala. ‘And good riddance to the troublesome bitch.'

Babala and her giant guardian hurried on, the delay putting the fear of pursuit into them. Slowly they made their way down the steep side of the cliff, testing each foothold carefully before searching for the next.

‘I know a cave ahead where we can hide until morning,' Huru said, and Babala shuddered in his arms. ‘Is something wrong, little one?' he asked, looking down into her eyes.

‘There was another cave to which I was taken,' she said, and told him about the palace guards and how she came to be Maxim's slave.

Huru hugged her to him. ‘Nothing like that will happen to you in this cave,' he told her. ‘It is somewhere I go to be alone - to think. You will be safe there. I will protect you.'

The chill of the night bit deep into Babala's bones, and had it not been for Huru's arm around her she would surely have frozen to death. At the foot of the cliff, as the ground levelled off and they walked on into the night, putting distance between them and the foreboding castle of the Slavemaster and his vicious wife, Babala was suddenly overcome with fatigue and her legs collapsed beneath her. Huru's arm held her easily, and he picked her up and cradled her as her head lolled against his chest and her eyes closed, despite her valiant attempts to stay awake and not be a burden to her new and trusted protector...

 

Babala awoke and looked up into Huru's kindly eyes, but there was something seriously wrong.

His wrists and ankles were tied with ropes and he was slung excruciatingly, his arms and legs twisted backwards, to the ceiling of the cave! With a shriek of bewilderment and fear she sat up and cast her wide eyes around the dark and crude shelter, and saw shadows huddling in the darkness and heard whispering voices.

‘She's awake,' said one.

‘And so beautiful,' said another.

Gradually the shadows took on more substance and Babala gasped and drew back at what she saw. There were seven or eight men, all of them short, all of them repulsive, their legs bowed.

‘H-how...?' began Babala, slowly backing away on her bottom. ‘How did they overpower you, Huru?'

‘Maxim must have put out a warning of our flight.' Huru's voice was strained with pain. ‘They lay in wait for me.'

‘You, be quiet!' ordered one of the grotesque men, and he pushed Huru's knees, setting him swinging and the ropes creaking. ‘She is ours now, to do with as we please.'

‘Yes,' said another, ‘and we shall use her well.' He thrust his groin out in a lewd manner, swinging his gnarled cock from side to side.

‘Tie her down,' said the leader, and several bustled about the cave to gather stakes and tools.

‘Th-there is no need,' Huru gasped, his face contorted against the pain of the pull on his arms and shoulders and legs. ‘She is trained to please and she will not try to escape.'

‘All females run from us,' said the leader, and he gave the signal that Babala should be spread-eagled on the straw that had been her bed and tied to stakes that were hammered into the cave floor at her ankles and above her head.

Despite her desperate struggles and curses this was done with relative ease, and Babala felt totally at the foul group's mercy. She looked up to Huru for comfort, and he smiled reassuringly through his grimace of pain.

‘She is lovely,' slavered one, his eyes bulging.

‘Hm,' murmured another. ‘It's as though she offers herself to us willingly.'

Babala closed her eyes in a futile attempt to hide her shame, but at the same time, secretly, she was proud of her body - proud that she was so fully trained to please others. She felt fingers twisting in her golden hair, fumbling with her breasts and plucking her nipples, and probing inquisitively at her sex lips. They mauled her flesh - her face, her arms, her flat tummy and her legs.

The leader rubbed his cock, pulling back the foreskin to bare the shining globe, slick with issue. It was large, looking out of proportion to his wizened frame.

Babala cringed and held her breath as she felt the warmth and wetness of a tongue rasping her sex. Unable to writhe away from the teasing tongue because of her bonds, she could only lie there and endure the attention, feel the tongue easing between her slick lips and stabbing at the sensitive bud of her clitoris. She was helpless in the tight bindings wrapped around her wrists and ankles; but did she really want to squirm away from the delicious sensations the tongue and hands were giving her? Her molesters were ugly and misshapen, but a familiar heat grew in the pit of her belly and the shameful desire to offer herself fully to her captors was intense.

The leader of the vulgar group gripped Babala's thighs and hunched down between the straddled limbs, and despite her overriding repugnance, a deliciously wanton feeling grew within her and she could feel her creamy sap melded with the man's spittle and seeping over her bottom cheeks. Her clitty felt greatly engorged under his fumbling attentions - tight, as if it would burst with pleasure, and she could not help but mew with ecstasy despite the discomfort of the bindings that pinned her arms and legs outstretched.

The coarse huddle of dirty men murmured and slobbered, and daring to peer from beneath lowered eyelids, Babala saw them looming over her, groping her flesh, their cocks bloated and straining for release.

She heard Huru bellow his rage, as if in great pain, and managed to catch sight of him straining at the thick ropes that held him suspended to the ceiling of the cave, and then the leader shuffled between her thighs, fumbling to position his cock at her entrance.

The others became even more intense, panting and grunting, urging their comrade on, and she could smell their growing excitement, feel the heat of their bodies. The leader sank into her and his cock was long and thick, filling her with one long thrust. Such was his need that he scarcely had time to grind into her more than three or four times before she heard him grunt his pleasure and felt him come deep inside her trussed body.

He slumped to the side, his hairy form drenched with sweat, his chest heaving as he filled his lungs.

‘It's my turn,' another demanded eagerly, giving his leader a shove to clear the way and then throwing himself upon her helpless body as he jabbed at her with his bursting erection. ‘You'll not escape so lightly this time,' he grunted. ‘This time it will be slower, will last longer...' He eased his hands beneath Babala's buttocks and began to thrust with his scrawny hips while he suckled and drooled on her nipples, and despite his confident words he soon stiffened and groaned and Babala felt him coming too as a cock-head nudged against her lips, demanding entry to the warm delights of her mouth.

From then on Babala's mind blurred, until eventually her weary captors slunk away to the shadows in corners and crevices of the cave, and she could hear their muffled breathing and wheezing as they settled down to sleep.

She must have drifted into a troubled doze herself, because after what seemed like mere minutes Huru woke her. He knelt at her side, his comfortingly large hands fumbling with the knots of the ropes that held her spread-eagled on the straw on the cave floor.

‘They're all asleep,' he whispered. ‘We must leave here quickly.'

‘But, how did you—?'

‘Escape?' Huru grinned and showed her his wrists, raw where the ropes had cut into his flesh. ‘Brute strength; it comes in handy sometimes.'

‘Oh, poor Huru,' said Babala, taking first one hand and then the other and gently kissing the sore wounds.

‘Enough - we must go,' he whispered urgently. ‘Before these little fiends wake up. Having taken their pleasure of you they will make no bones about carrying out Maxim's orders.'

‘Maxim's orders?'

‘They have orders to kill you,' he said, sweeping Babala up into his arms and stooping to make his way from the oppressive dungeon of a cave. ‘And then me.'

Shivering with fear and cold Babala felt a little better to be again snuggled close to the big man's chest. ‘Where shall we go now?' she asked timorously. There seemed to be nowhere safe for them.

‘You need rest,' said Huru. ‘There is a woodcutter's hut I know deep in the forest. We'll get some rest there.'

 

Soon they reached the forest, which was forebodingly dark and quiet despite the creeping dawn. Not even the birds were waking, but eventually they reached a tiny clearing and there was a small hut made of logs, roughly cut. Grey smoke trailed up lazily from a stone chimney.

The door opened almost immediately upon Huru's knock. The man who opened it looked genial and kindly enough, but Babala noticed how his eyes glinted as he drank in her beauty.

‘Huru,' he greeted, his unsettling eyes not leaving her. ‘You've been given leave from the castle? About time - come in.' He stood aside to allow Huru and his precious companion entrance, licking his lips with intent as she was brushed past him.

‘No leave, Maro,' Huru said ruefully. ‘I left and brought this angel with me.'

‘Oh?' said Maro, looking uneasy about the newcomer's announcement. ‘A whore, is she? From Maxim's seraglio?'

‘Not a whore, no,' Huru insisted firmly. ‘As I said, she is an angel. A gentle girl who has been used badly at the castle, but who was still prepared to show me great kindness.'

He laid her upon the truckle bed that huddled in the corner of the single room, and so exhausted was she that almost immediately her eyes closed again and she drifted into sleep.

 

It was full daylight when Babala awoke, and she sat up with a start when she remembered where she was and realised she was alone with the woodcutter. ‘W-where is Huru?' she asked nervously.

‘I've sent him to cut some wood,' said the man, ‘as payment, you might say, for hiding you two runaways.' He grinned at her and the expression made Babala shiver under the animal skins that warmed her. He was not old, but neither was he young, and the light from the opening that served as a tiny window shone on his bald head.

‘I promised him that I would take care of you, my pretty.' He reached out and laid a rough hand on her bare shoulder, and began to stroke her in a familiar manner that made her cringe.

But she did not pull away, for she had been well trained and she knew exactly what the man wanted. ‘I'm... I'm a little sore, sir,' she whispered honestly, not wanting to offend Huru's friend, ‘from what I've had to endure these past days.'