Babala's Correction by Bethany Amber Page B

throat.
    â€˜Stare at me , would you, you little strumpet? screamed Desilla. ‘How dare you?’
    This time Babala saw the many-stranded lash as it rose through the air. It seemed to move in slow motion and she tensed as she anticipated the pain upon her already tortured bottom. It was worse than anything she had experienced before. It was like cuts with many red-hot knives slicing across the tender flesh of her raised and vulnerable bottom.
    â€˜Oh, please madam!’ she begged.
    â€˜More? You want more?’ said Desilla in a husky voice. ‘That’s good. I like a girl with spirit.’
    Babala heard giggles coming from the darkest corners of the kitchen and knew it was the other maids laughing at her distress. ‘No, madam,’ she managed. ‘If it pleases you, madam...’
    Desilla knelt before her and Babala could see more clearly what the woman wore. It was a very fine black leather tunic; short, reaching only to the very top of her shapely thighs. The boots were long and the cuffs chafed the woman’s full pussy lips at every movement. These, the cunny lips, were darkly bushed like the Lady Fazath’s, but where her thighs met them the skin was cleanly shaven, seeming to make the cunny lips stand out more prominently.
    â€˜Well, girl,’ Desilla said huskily. ‘Do you like what you see? For you will be seeing it very intimately in a moment or two.’
    The kitchen maids working in the shadows giggled again, but Babala blushed and hung her head. She had not meant to stare at Desilla’s cunny. It was just that she could hardly help it with the woman crouching so close and almost thrusting it into her face.
    â€˜I think those pretty lips of yours will fit very nicely about my cunt; will do delicious things between my open thighs, but for the time being you can remain clutched in the smacking stool.’ She looked about the kitchen and frowned. ‘Rata, come here! You’ve had your fun with this girl and now you can do something for me.’
    â€˜Yes, mistress.’ Rata was almost grovelling as he hurried over to do the mistress’s bidding. ‘How may I serve you? Perhaps give the girl another taste of your splendid lash?’
    â€˜You can leave that to me,’ said Desilla, her words shrill with suppressed anger. ‘Bring me a cushion so I do not have to sit upon this filthy and cold floor while the girl services me.’
    â€˜Indeed, mistress, at once.’
    â€˜And make sure it is made of something soft... velvet or cool satin,’ Desilla called as Rata hurried away.
    â€˜When you have serviced me to my satisfaction I have all manner of treats for you, my dear,’ the woman continued, turning her attention back to Babala, her voice dripping honey. ‘What do you say to that?’
    â€˜I am very grateful, madam,’ the girl said humbly.
    â€˜And so you should be.’ A shadow appeared by their side; Rata, head bowed in submission and a black satin pillow held out in front of him.
    â€˜Idiot!’ screamed Desilla. ‘If I had wanted black I would have given you strict orders for black, would I not?’
    Rata looked cowed. ‘I-I suppose you would, madam,’ he agreed, in a quavering voice.
    Desilla rose to her feet, her strong legs parted to steady her, and lashed out at Rata with her whip, striking him on his broad shoulders. At least, thought Babala ruefully, he wore a tunic to save the full smart of the blow, whereas her bottom caught the full wrath of the wicked instrument.
    â€˜Bring me something pretty, something which will show off my cunt to the full as this girl services it with her tongue.’ Desilla dismissed him with a wave of her hand and bent to crouch before Babala once more. She wagged a warning finger at her young charge.
    â€˜I want this done diligently, young miss,’ she said. ‘You understand that, don’t you?’
    â€˜Oh yes, mistress,’ said Babala.