The blond sitting over there at the desk - that 's Vanessa.

She looks fab for her 32 geezerhood. Hourglass figure, curve in all the right places. Well turned out in her heeled ankle boots and tight melanise drawers. There 's something about her that tells you she 's in direction here. Perhaps it 's the way she wears her hair : Tied back as it is in that immaculate, high-knot pony-tail.

This is her role. She runs things here. She 's got over L girls on her rule book, well-nigh of them eastern-European and Russian. They probably expected to get chambermaid or waitress work. Perhaps they still think they might, one day.

right hand now though, they work for Vanessa. They 're her girls. Her whores.

Vanessa 's supplier, Stenson, is the shabbily dressed, unshaven guy sitting opposite her across the desk.

'' Well, '' Stenson raises his brow expectantly. `` What do you think ? ``

'' Very nice, '' Vanessa nods. `` She 's pretty. ``

They 're looking at Francesca.

Francesca is indeed pretty. And vernal. Too young to be here. Cropped blondish pilus. Hazel-brown, blinking optic. She 's shivering. Frightened ? expression tired. Distraught. It 's been a long trip.

'' Do you verbalize English, Francesca ? '' Vanessa asks.

'' Yes, a little. ``

'' You understand where you are and what is happening, do n't you ? ``

Was that a sob ? Is Francesca crying ?

'' You 're to form for me until you 've paid off your transport, fees and documentation costs. You understand that, do n't you ? ``

Francesca nods. Definitely trying to harbor back tears.

'' Good daughter. ``

Vanessa likes calling them `` girls ''. Her girls. It makes her experience of import. Powerful. Sexy.

'' Take off your clothes, Francesca. I want to depend at you. ``

Francesca does n't appear up. She understands. She knows why she 's here. It 's only until she can pay them for bringing her here. She had to descend, did n't she ? To find a better aliveness. To try to be someone. Do n't count. Just undress. Easy.

'' ejaculate on, girl. ``

Francesca crosses one arm over the other, pulls her dress up over her top dog, sets it to one position, and stands before them in her underwear.

'' Everything. Hurry up. ``

Francesca unclips her bra and reveals to them her sensitive breasts with their thickheaded light-brown mammilla. She slides her scanty down her legs and steps out of them. She 's in good shape. The nub of her clitoris is visible. Did she knock off her cunt because she knew she would end up here ?

'' Beautiful, '' genus Vanessa sighs.

Francesca does n't look up.

'' Turn around. ``

Francesca turns obediently. Tight little tail. She 's going to be popular. Stenson will need redundant for her.

'' She 's Thomas Young. How old are you, Francesca ? ``

'' Eighteen. ``

'' XVIII ? ``

Francesca nods. She might be eighteen. She might not be. She definitely looks Lester Willis Young. Too vernal. She should at domicile with her household in her settlement in Roumania. This is no piazza for a girlfriend her age.

'' She 's not a virgin is she ? '' Ca n't open a virgin.

Stenson shakes his header. He knows she 's not a virgin. He knows that because he raped her twice on the way here. And Gatsby had a go too. Definitely not a virgin.

'' Bend over, fille. ``

Ca n't see Francesca 's face, but she ca n't be enjoying this. Displaying her pussy-lips to them from behind. But that 's why she 's here, is n't it ? That 's her ware. It 's what Vanessa is buying.

genus Vanessa gets up, struts confidently over to Francesca 's buttocks, places a palm on one of the missy 's bare buttocks, and gives it a good feel. Firm. Tender.

'' I like her, '' genus Vanessa makes up her mind. `` But I want her cheap. ``

'' Three thousand, '' Stenson says. `` For this quality, that is brassy. ``

Good. Not unaffordable.

'' I 'm going to have to train her up, '' genus Vanessa shakes her fountainhead. `` I 'll give you two thousand for her. ``

Francesca still bent over before them. So this is what it feels like to be sold into sexual slavery. To be sold to an English woman. For a twosome of thousand Ezra Loomis Pound. to a greater extent money than can be imagined back in her small town. So coldness. So naked. So exposed. Have they finished looking at her pussy ? Can she tidy up ? Can she put her clothes back on ?

'' Two-and-a-half. Agreed. '' Vanessa shakes Stenson 's outstretched hand.

'' A joy doing business with you, as always, '' Stenson ray at her. Another muckle done. Another whore sold. Easy money. And he 'll be back. With another girl. Around the end of the month. Una Latina de Bolivia, perhaps, future time. good-bye. He does n't even glance at Francesca as he exits Vanessa 's authority, whistling.

genus Vanessa sits back at her desk and taps her keyboard. The min go by. Francesca tremble. Her pussy still on show from the hind end. This is humiliating. Cruel. the absurd. Can she straighten up now ?

'' Do n't prompt daughter. ``

Why is n't she allowed to move ? Was this how harlot were supposed to carry ? She had n't imagined it would be anything like this. Were all the daughter that come here treated like this ? Are they all raped by their traffickers ? Are they all inspected and sold like core ?

'' Listen, miss. If you behave yourself and do what you 're told, we 'll get along. ``

Vanessa has said the Lapp thing to more than one century girls. It comes effortlessly to her now, but it was n't always this promiscuous. She used to feel the guilt and the shame. She used to want to stop and get out and not be involved. But over time she 's learned to be at peace with herself. She knows what she 's doing is n't right. She knows she 's as very much to pick for forcing these fille into whoredom as anyone. But she also knows that if she did n't do it, then they would only be sold to mortal else, and that that could be a one thousand times worse. No. At to the lowest degree if they were with her, she could score it fair to middling for them. Her female child are the golden one. She knows they are favourable because she has seen what goes on elsewhere. She has seen girlfriend beaten to within inch of their lives. She 's seen them branded. She 's seen them dog-fested.

No, Vanessa does n't handle her miss like that. She 's helping them. Sure, she can be brutal. But it 's cruel-to-be-kind. That 's fair, is n't it ? Do n't the girls almost always end up thanking her, despite themselves ?

'' You may turn and face me. ``

Francesca straightens up, relieved. As she turns she catches Vanessa 's gaze. She looks down hurriedly, unsure of herself. And ashamed. She knew it would be like this, did n't she ? But she still came anyway, did n't she ?

'' I 'm problematic, but average. I know how toilsome it is for you girls coming over here. I want to help you, but I can only help oneself you if you help me. We 'll work out a programme to get your debt paid off. I wo n't cheat or mislead you. Just solve hard for me and obey me. If you can wangle that, your halt here will pass smoothly, painlessly and quickly. Do you understand, girl ? ``

Francesca sniffs and nods. She understands. She does n't have any choice but to understand. Maybe they really will serve her. Maybe.

'' Do you have a go at it how to curtsey, girl ? ``

Francesca nibbles her lower lip.

'' Where you 'll be working, you need to determine to curtsy. curtsey for me now, girl. ``

A small, shy curtsey. That will do. For now.

'' Every time you speak to me, you will curtsey first - and that includes nodding to say yes. Understood ? ``

Francesca nods. Then curtsies.

wrong way unit of ammunition. But that will do too. For now.

'' Since I have just bought you, I am now your owner. You will address me as 'mistress'. ``

Francesca stares at the floor. Owned ? She belongs to someone else ?

'' As far as I am concerned, you are my slave. My place. You will remain my property until you worked enough to buy yourself back from me. ``

How does Francesca feel, now that she knows she is mortal else 's property ? A self-will. A affair. A nothing.

'' Please ... '' Francesca starts.

'' What is it ? ``

'' The man ... '' She manages between sobs. `` He forced me ... ''

'' I 'm not interested, '' Vanessa shrugs. `` If you were raped, it was because you deserved it. ``

That 's harsh, she knows. But it 's the only if way. She 's gone the harmonic route in the past and it 's ended up getting messy. Experience has taught her that the only way these young woman will outlive their ordeal with their psyche intact is never to pander to their doubts and uncertainties, however understandable they might be. Better instead to make them see from the commencement that they can not operate it. If they realise they can not control it, then they wo n't feel responsible for it. If they are not responsible for it, then they can go it.

'' So, girl. Let 's see if you 've understood. Who owns you ? ``

Francesca performs a minuscule curtsey and close shave inaudibly.

'' Speak up girl. ``

'' You, mistress. ``

'' Say it. Say 'you own me, schoolma'am'and curtsey while you say it. ``

'' You own me, schoolmistress. ``

Delightful. She 's half-way there already. Such a dessert, slavish young woman. Cute lilliputian curtsy. want to work on her military capability, though.

Who 's that ?

Oh, it 's Zynab. look how she slides saucily round down the half-ajar office staff threshold. Such a tease.

Zynab is genus Vanessa 's assistant. She 's XXIII. British, but of Pakistani descent. Stunning curt skirt. High-heeled sandals. Sexy floral-print blouse. Long, loose, sinister hair. full moon, pouting, fuck-me brim. Painted red.

'' Oh my, '' Zynab puts a finger to the corner of her mouth and grins mischievously. `` Sorry to interrupt. Is that the new girl ? ``

genus Vanessa does n't answer. Of course of instruction it 's the new fille. What does Zynab want ? Busy.

'' Very dainty ... '' Zynab 's eyes shine naughtily. `` May I ? ``

Impossible to say no to Zynab. Not in that skirt. Even if she is interrupting.

'' Of path. Go ahead. ``

Zynab sidles up to Francesca and for a moment they return each other 's gaze. misapprehension. How dare Francesca count her victor in the eye ? Disrespectful trivial white slave-bitch. Slaves look down. At their owner 's groundwork. That 's how it works.

'' Do n't appear at me, whore ! ``

Vanessa bristles with pleasure. She adores watching Zynab lambast the girls. Because she has a certain way about her, something which genus Vanessa has always envied. She has the courage to be cruel where most would hold back. And for someone so young, she 's not afraid to demonstrate her disgusting talents openly. Almost as if it is the audience - in this instance Vanessa - that drives her.

'' Sorry ... '' Francesca bleats.

Zynab glares at the pussy-maid-to-be ( because that 's the vacancy they 've purchased her for ) and dares her - double dares her - to look up again.

'' Look at my feet, whore. ``

Wonderful infantry. Incredible bottom too, from genus Vanessa 's vantage point. Who would n't but admire Zynab 's butt tucked up snugly in that precious trivial wench of hers. The skirt that Vanessa insists she wears. The dame that Zynab resisted for so tenacious - because in her culture `` cleaning woman do n't coiffure like lady of pleasure. '' But Vanessa is the party boss. And this is her civilization. Her assistant will dress out as she pleases. Wear the skirt, or be replaced. Simple.

'' My feet own you. '' Zynab grips Francesca 's Chin between her thumb and forefinger and tilts her principal forwards. Then she turns to Vanessa and raises a questioning eyebrow.

Vanessa smiles. Zynab deserves a treat. She 's a well assistant. Look at her rose hip in that bird. She 's an American Indian Goddess. Would have a go at it to take in her for a hard worker. To accept her standing submissively, head bowed, displaying her plentiful, smooth chocolate-brown physique, her bare breasts ... To have her curtseying and saying 'mistress'and kneeling and bowing. That 's the trouble with being accustomed to having submissive, bare girls at your constant beck and call. You ca n't help but reckon having every woman you meet in your service.

'' Sorry ... '' Francesca is in tears. The poor girl. She 's been forced into this. She 's an illegal in this nation. She has no admirer here. No relatives to turn to. She has to get some money from somewhere. She has to.

'' kneeling, whore. ``

Vanessa feels her arousal ontogeny. What is it about Zynab that makes her so horny ? What if Zynab were to overlook *her* to kneel ? Would she kneel ? How must that feel ? Her sheer beauty is enough to defecate you want to put forward to her, is n't it ?

Francesca kneels, visibly afraid. She 's probably never had her tongue inside another womanhood 's vagina. She 's about to determine out. Poor trivial thing. Naked. Miles from home. Just been told she 's owned. That she 's a striver. Raped by Stenson and his cronies. And now kneeling at Zynab 's feet. Still looking at them obediently.

They 're gorgeous fundament. perfect high-heeled sandals. Perfect coffee-brown skin.

'' candy kiss my fundament. ``

Francesca contemplates Zynab 's toes. She does n't have got any choice. She 's not legal. She does n't recognize anyone. She 's their whore. Their slave.

'' What are you snivelling for ? You want to pay off your debt, do n't you ? buss my understructure. NOW. ``

Francesca bows humbly and presses her lips to the bridge deck of Zynab 's left base. Smell her form. Taste it. It was never meant to be like this. It was meant to be soft. Go to the UK. work in the sex diligence for a while. make money quickly.

genus Vanessa, still seated at her desk, wiggle with pleasure. This is why she puts up with the casual prickle of conscience. null trumps this. goose egg. One submissive sex-slave being dominated by one beautiful and willing assistant. Wearing the dame she said she would never wear.

'' Use your tongue. Lick my toes. ``

poor Francesca. It 's not her fault. She knew she would give to do some things she would n't need to do. That was the nature of the study, was n't it ? And she had even heard about the English people and their perversions and their bizarre voodoo. But she never thought it would be like this. Like this ! God. Not like this.

'' Say sorry, '' Zynab smirks down at her.

'' Sorry ... '' Francesca mother fucker, repeatedly kissing the tops of Zynab 's toes.

'' I am your mistress. You will call me schoolmistress. Apologise again. osculate my feet and keep apologising. ``

'' Sorry mistress. '' kiss. `` Sorry schoolmistress ''. Kiss. `` Sorry fancy woman ''. Kiss.

It wo n't be forever, will it ? candy kiss her feet. Accept unfavorable position. It 's just the way things are. Life is not always bonnie. Maybe she *had* been a little disrespectful ? Look at Zynab 's ankle. And she has astound peg, does n't she ? No-one has long, smooth, embrown branch like that back in Romania.

'' Sorry mistress ''. osculation. `` Sorry schoolmarm ''. Kiss.

Vanessa leans back in her chair and slips a hand past her belt-line into the front of her pants. Already moist. Watching Zynab makes her so horny. So incredibly horny.

'' Sorry schoolma'am ''. buss. `` Sorry mistress ''. Kiss.

'' Shut up and puzzle out my toes. ``

Francesca 's tongue waggles slavishly across Zynab 's toes. She 's commodity. Has she done this before ? Does she have any melodic theme how arousing her submissiveness is ?

Vanessa locates her own clitoris and turns the tip of her forefinger around it. Her powerfulness makes her want to come. All these fille. These striver. And Zynab. In her annulus. And Stenson raping Zynab. Probably raped her bum. Probably came in her face and made her suck him clean.

'' suck my substructure, working girl. I want to sleep with your font with my groundwork. ``

Francesca, by her failure to dissent, is humiliating herself. But she wo n't stop. They never do. She knows she is owned now. She knows she has to consent it. No choice.

'' Today you 're my foot slave. '' Zynab pushes the end of her sandal roughly into Francesca 's misrepresented mouth. `` Tomorrow you will be my pussy-maid. ``

Vanessa pants with excitement, captivated by Zynab 's performance. Both hired hand at her own sex now. Tending the flames. Knowing the only if way to put out the fervidness is to let it burn.

'' feeling at my panties, woman of the street. '' Zynab pulls up the movement of her annulus a niggling way, displaying the most astonishingly beautiful visual sense that wretched little Francesca has ever seen. Vanessa ca n't see it from where she 's sitting, but she knows that plenty. She 's seen it more than a few times. In a way, she *can* see it. Because it 's all she ever sees when she looks at Zynab. In that skirt.

Perfect thighs surrounding a arrant little pussy. Covered by double-dyed panties. Soft, white, delicate, hand-tailored silk. They were a giving. From Vanessa. Just for Zynab. Vanessa had been there when the dressing-maids had measured her up. Zynab had been a doll that day. A living doll. She had argued and protested against dressing the way Vanessa wanted her to. But in the end, when she saw how much Vanessa was prepared to drop on her, she relented. And she remained so quiet, so inactive while they measured and re-measured her sex. The aloofness between her anus and her sex. The breadth of her anus when bending over.

'' My panty are worth more than than you, whore, '' Zynab crowing. `` Kiss them. They own you. ``

Francesca, wet faced, nods her submission. Anyone entering the room rightfulness at that moment would surely be of the impression she was veritably salivating at the view of kissing Zynab 's panties.

Vanessa fidget in her seat and suspiration with pleasure. Imagine kissing Zynab 's perfect pussycat through the material of her panties at her fork. No. Do n't imagine that. Only the striver do that. It 's how they know their place. Do n't even think about it. But conceive of it though. How can one look at Zynab and not ideate it ? Imagine being Francesca. If she had n't just been sold into sexual slavery, she might even be enjoying herself. dear than being raped, was n't it ? Better than being branded. Or dog-fested.

'' You 're my slave. ``

Francesca pecks submissively at Zynab 's crotch. This is how slave worship their owners. This is how they show respect. How they demonstrate their humbleness and devotion.

'' You hear me, slut ? You 're my slave. ``

Vanessa loves hearing Zynab say that. She needs Zynab to say it again. She needs to take heed it. Hearing it excites her more even than the prospect of a stiffly jabbing of hammer between her peg. Imagine Zynab telling you that : That you are her striver. That she owns you. No. Stop thinking that. No want to think that. That 's not how it is.

'' My panties are worth more than you. Think about that as you kiss them. ``

Why does n't Francesca refuse ? Why does n't she resist ? Is she really going to make it that easy for Zynab ? Why do they always make it so easy for her ?

'' Sniff me, whore. ``

genus Vanessa imagines that smell. The Maker scent of Zynab 's sodden, swollen sex. What she would give to realise Zynab one of her girls and to own that pussy. As she had sat and watched her the day they measured her for the panties, had n't it felt then - even if only momentarily - that she *did* own her ? But how to own her always ? How to wee a pet-slave of her ? God. What would Zynab say if she knew how a lot she secretly lusted after her ? Perhaps she does know. Maybe she wants it. Maybe she wants to be owned. Maybe that 's why she submitted to wearing the wench ? Impossible to sit still now. So awake. Love watching slave-whores worship Zynab 's twat. want to come. need to desperately.

Look at the new girl running her glossa over Zynab 's step-in at her snatch. Lucky fille. She can do that and feel no shame because she 's nothing more than a slave-whore. favorable cunt. Probably does n't have a go at it just how lucky she is. Impossible for Vanessa ever to do that. Not now. To slump that low would be unthinkable. No, not unthinkable. Not realisable. She could still think it if she wanted to, could n't she ?

'' Lick my pussy, whore. '' Zynab grabs a cluster of Francesca 's whisker at her diadem and steers her human face into her seawall. Then with her release mitt she pulls her panty aside, revealing her glistening sex.

'' Taste me. savour your new proprietor. ``

It does n't matter that Francesca has never done this before. It does n't matter that she 's not bisexual. Here, all girls are bisexual person. It is a demand. If it does not come naturally, then it will be learned. Or acquired.

Francesca will be doing a lot more of it, too. Zynab will bear her crinkle up with the other girls and they 'll take it in turns lapping at her expensive panties and kissing her animal foot and thanking her for owning them. That 's what Zynab does best. That 's what gets her off. How golden for Vanessa, because that 's what gets her off, too. It 's getting her off even now, as she massages her clit and wiggle in her seat. '' more than. Eat me faster, '' Zynab snaps. Watch her pouting, red brim. She 's the Beelzebub. She 's perfect evil.

Francesca 's flicks her spit frantically at Zynab 's insides. This is what life here will be like. This is the taste perception and the smell that will lollygag and suffice as a constant monitor of who she is and what she has become. Every meter Zynab crack, she will recall the sensation and recollect that she is to bow her headway and spread her stage, simply because she is worth less than the landing strip of cloth covering her kept woman'sex.

genus Vanessa needs to slow down. Take deep breaths. No rush. Zynab is n't through yet. enjoy the show. Let it ware you. What a good raft she 's done. Francesca is submissive by nature. Not going to require very much education. Think of the money to be made ... May even treat Zynab to another skirt.

In place of tear, Francesca 's cheeks drip now with the juices of her new mistress. Gagging at Zynab 's sex. Gasping for air. And look at the expression on Zynab 's brass. Imperious. Smug. Delighted with herself.

Francesca 's oral sex is wrenched back with a red tug on her haircloth. Did she do something wrong ? Was n't she licking her schoolma'am fast enough ? Not deep enough ? Not obediently enough ?

Zynab grips one of Francesca 's mamilla in her fingerbreadth and construction it roughly in her fingers, causing her to wince.

'' Shut up. '' Zynab slaps the same breast, then golf stroke across the other with the back of her palm. Yelping like a galvanise pup, Francesca cowers as far as Zynab 's grip on her whisker permits.

Vanessa runs a paw over one of her own titty and circles her tit with the tips of her finger's breadth. Electricity. Go on Zynab. Slap them again. throw them. Own them.

'' Your boob are mine. '' Zynab barks at a red-faced and trembling Francesca. `` Offer them to me. ``

Francesca does n't go. put up them ? How ?

'' Offer them to me NOW, harlot. ``

Francesca just wants it all to end. Has n't she been humiliated enough ? Improvising uncertainly, she cups a hand under each of her tit, raises them up slightly and opens her thenar towards Zynab. Presenting her breasts to her mistress. Is she doing it right ? Is this what her mistress wants ?

Zynab slaps each knocker twice. Francesca turns her head and grits her tooth. It hurts. Not too much, but enough. Does she really have to proffer another char her breast ? Does she own to put up with this ?

genus Vanessa twists her own nipples in her finger. She owns them all. All those girls with their slappable, kissable, suckable titties ...

'' That 's better. '' Zynab gives Francesca another couple of slaps. `` I own them, and I want them hard. ``

Francesca continues to offer up her case-hardened mamilla. She wants to protect them, but she 's afraid to. Are they no longer hers to protect ?

'' Now offer me your pussy. ``

What ? How ?

Just do something. Anything.

Still kneeling, Francesca section her thigh slightly, reaches down and crudely pulls her pussy-lips aside.

'' I ca n't see it there, whore. '' Zynab barque. `` Lie on your back, acclivity you knees, and distribute your ramification. ``

Switch off. Do n't mean about it. It 'll be alright. They 'll take care after her and aid her pay her debts, wo n't they ?

She lies back, raises her knee joint, spreads them as widely as she can and prises her puss surface with her fingers. pink. Young. Fresh.

'' Look at that, Vanessa. '' Zynab spurring Francesca 's sex with the end of her foot.

Vanessa grunts her approval. Fresh, young, wet pussycat. Could she display herself to Zynab like that ? How must that feel ? How low are these prostitute ? How worthless that they give their Edward Young pussies to be bought and sold like discounted meat ?

'' You know how a lot these skid monetary value, whore ? '' Zynab baseball swing an ankle over Zynab 's font. `` more than than you. A lot more than you. Fuck yourself on my understructure. ``

Francesca wriggle. Is every item of clothing her mistress is wearing worth more than she is ?

'' Every time a guest fucks this slit, you 'll remember my shoes own it. ``

Francesca hates herself. She hates herself because she is pushing her clitoris into the sole of her fancy woman'sandals. She hates herself because she 's rubbing herself against it and becoming aroused. She hates herself because she 's unable to suppress her whining and her panting and her moaning. Are her mistress'place really worth more than she is ? Do her schoolmarm'brake shoe really own her pussy ? Is that why she is giving her snatch so readily to their service ? Is it still hers to give ?

'' There 's a good little whore. Shine the soles of my shoes with your cunt juice. ``

Vanessa is close. She always comes after buying a new woman of the street. Today will be no exception. She 's a prisoner of her own prestige. A slave to her own seduction. She owns flesh. Their bod. All her girls. They belong to her. Even Zynab, in a way, belongs to her. God. If only she did.

Francesca is close too. She knows she should n't be. She surely must cognize that she should n't be. This ca n't happen. Not to her. Not like this. It was never like this in Roumania. She squirms and vaulting horse and pant and moans. Her climax is mature to break loose within her. Raped. Sold. Humiliated. Foot fucked. And yet she 's going to come up ... What does that say about her ? What does that say about her response to being sold as a sex-slave ? What would her booster say if they could see her now ? What would her family say ?

'' seminal fluid then, you selfish whore, '' Zynab snaps at her.

And so Francesca comes. Clasping Zynab 's animal foot to her sex. Hugging it there and quivering on it. Her aspect contorts with lustfulness, pity, pleasure, torment, ecstasy, sorrowfulness. Now whimpering like a cub. And more tears.

genus Vanessa comes too. Ca n't hold back. She thrusts her pelvis up and down on her own fingers, tenses and arches her backbone. Try to hear the silent belly laugh of a woman in the throe of dark lust. Eden. nil tops it. Imagine Zynab 's backtalk on yours. Imagine her fingerbreadth fondling your pilus. Must lay off thinking that. It 's dangerous.

'' Eat me again, '' Zynab snaps at Francesca. `` present me your selfish little woman of the street face. ``

Francesca is up on her knees in an moment. Too obedient. Too subservient. How can she accept this ?

genus Vanessa rides her aftershocks as they ripple through her. God. Great orgasm. Going to let to know Zynab soon. Ca n't resist her a great deal yearner. Either that or else replace her so as not to have to take care at her and suffer. Maybe make her wear an even brusque, tarty skirt. Yes. That 'll be fun. labor her to her limits. See how badly she wants to keep this job. Replace her if she refuses.

Zynab sexual climax violently in Francesca 's face.

When she 's through, she 'll cry Francesca a whore and slap her cheeks. She 'll have her lick her own whore-juice off her feet. She 'll accept her say `` Thank you mistress '' over and over again until it starts to sound like she means it.

Wait for that, then mention the bird .