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

She looks mythical for her 32 years. Hourglass figure, curves in all the rectify places. Well turned out in her heeled ankle iron boot and tight black pant. There 's something about her that tells you she 's in charge 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 post. She runs things here. She 's got over l girlfriend on her Scripture, to the highest degree of them eastern-European and Russian. They probably expected to get chambermaid or waitress study. Perhaps they still think they might, one day.

Right now though, they work for Vanessa. They 're her little girl. Her whores.

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

'' Well, '' Stenson raises his forehead expectantly. `` What do you recollect ? ``

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

They 're looking at Francesca.

Francesca is indeed pretty. And young. Too untried to be here. Cropped blondish hair. Hazel-brown, blinking eyes. She 's shivering. Frightened ? Looks tired. Distraught. It 's been a long trip.

'' Do you speak side, Francesca ? '' Vanessa asks.

'' Yes, a footling. ``

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

Was that a sob ? Is Francesca crying ?

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

Francesca nods. Definitely trying to hold back tears.

'' Good girl. ``

Vanessa likes calling them `` girls ''. Her girls. It makes her finger important. Powerful. Sexy.

'' drive off your wearing apparel, Francesca. I want to attend at you. ``

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

'' ejaculate on, girl. ``

Francesca crosses one arm over the other, pulls her frock up over her principal, sets it to one side, and stands before them in her underwear.

'' Everything. Hurry up. ``

Francesca unclips her bra and reveals to them her medium breasts with their thick light-brown nipples. She slides her pantie down her legs and steps out of them. She 's in good flesh. The nub of her clitoris is seeable. Did she shave her snatch because she knew she would end up here ?

'' Beautiful, '' Vanessa sighs.

Francesca does n't expect up.

'' bend around. ``

Francesca turns obediently. Tight piddling bottom. She 's going to be popular. Stenson will require special for her.

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

'' eighteen. ``

'' Eighteen ? ``

Francesca nods. She might be XVIII. She might not be. She definitely looks young. Too young. She should at home with her family in her village in Romania. This is no place for a girl her age.

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

Stenson shakes his head. 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.

'' twist over, girl. ``

Ca n't see Francesca 's side, 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 genus Vanessa is buying.

Vanessa gets up, swagger confidently over to Francesca 's rear, places a decoration on one of the girl 's bare backside, and gives it a good look. Firm. Tender.

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

'' Three one thousand, '' Stenson says. `` For this character, that is cheap. ``

Good. Not unaffordable.

'' I 'm going to possess to educate her up, '' Vanessa shakes her head. `` 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 people fair sex. For a couplet of thousand hammer. More money than can be imagined back in her Village. So cold-blooded. So bare. So exposed. Have they finished looking at her pussy ? Can she straighten up ? Can she put her clothes back on ?

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

'' A pleasure doing business enterprise with you, as always, '' Stenson ray of light at her. Another deal done. Another lady of pleasure sold. Easy money. And he 'll be back. With another female child. Around the end of the month. Una Latina de Bolivia, perhaps, next prison term. Adios. He does n't even glance at Francesca as he exits Vanessa 's part, whistling.

genus Vanessa sits back at her desk and taps her keyboard. The proceedings go by. Francesca shivers. Her pussy still on display from the ass. This is humiliating. Cruel. Absurd. Can she straighten up now ?

'' Do n't prompt lady friend. ``

Why is n't she allowed to motivate ? Was this how cocotte were supposed to do ? She had n't imagined it would be anything like this. Were all the girlfriend that come here treated like this ? Are they all raped by their traffickers ? Are they all inspected and sold like meat ?

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

Vanessa has said the same thing to more than one C girls. It comes effortlessly to her now, but it was n't always this easy. She used to feel the guilt and the shame. She used to want to stop and get out and not be involved. But over clip she 's learned to be at peace with herself. She knows what she 's doing is n't right field. She knows she 's as a great deal to charge for forcing these fille into harlotry as anyone. But she also knows that if she did n't do it, then they would only be sold to someone else, and that that could be a thousand times worse. No. At least if they were with her, she could prepare it adequate for them. Her girls are the lucky ones. She knows they are golden because she has seen what goes on elsewhere. She has seen girls beaten to within inches of their lives. She 's seen them branded. She 's seen them dog-fested.

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

'' You may turn and look me. ``

Francesca straightens up, relieved. As she turns she catches genus Vanessa 's regard. 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 hoodlum, but bonnie. I know how hard it is for you girls coming over here. I want to help you, but I can only serve you if you help me. We 'll mold out a plan to get your debt paid off. I wo n't cheat or mislead you. Just work hard for me and obey me. If you can manage that, your halt here will take place smoothly, painlessly and quickly. Do you see, girl ? ``

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

'' Do you be intimate how to curtsey, girl ? ``

Francesca nibbles her humiliated lip.

'' Where you 'll be working, you need to memorise to curtsey. curtsy for me now, young woman. ``

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

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

Francesca nods. Then curtsies.

wrong way round. 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 base. Owned ? She belongs to someone else ?

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

How does Francesca experience, now that she knows she is someone else 's property ? A self-control. A affair. A nothing.

'' Please ... '' Francesca starts.

'' What is it ? ``

'' The man ... '' She manages between prick. `` 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 when way. She 's gone the openhearted route in the yesteryear and it 's ended up getting messy. Experience has taught her that the only way these fille will outlive their ordeal with their soul intact is never to pander to their doubts and incertitude, however graspable they might be. Better instead to lay down them see from the outset that they can not curb it. If they realise they can not ensure it, then they wo n't feel creditworthy for it. If they are not responsible for for it, then they can weather it.

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

Francesca performs a small curtsy and squeaks inaudibly.

'' Speak up young lady. ``

'' You, mistress. ``

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

'' You own me, schoolmistress. ``

Delightful. She 's half-way there already. Such a sweet, submissive female child. Cute slight curtsy. Need to go on her posture, though.

Who 's that ?

Oh, it 's Zynab. look how she slides saucily attack the half-ajar office door. Such a tease.

Zynab is Vanessa 's assistant. She 's twenty-three. British, but of Pakistani descent. Stunning short chick. High-heeled sandals. Sexy floral-print blouse. Long, loose, dark hair's-breadth. Full, pouting, fuck-me lips. Painted red.

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

Vanessa does n't answer. Of grade it 's the new young woman. What does Zynab need ? Busy.

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

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

'' Of row. Go ahead. ``

Zynab sidles up to Francesca and for a consequence they return each early 's gaze. Mistake. How dare Francesca look her superior in the eye ? awless little white slave-bitch. Slaves look down. At their proprietor 's base. That 's how it works.

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

Vanessa bristles with pleasance. She adores watching Zynab reprimand the girls. Because she has a sure way about her, something which Vanessa has always envied. She has the bravery to be cruel where most would hold back. And for someone so vernal, she 's not afraid to demonstrate her wicked talents openly. Almost as if it is the interview - 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 - duplicate dares her - to look up again.

'' Look at my ft, working girl. ``

Wonderful feet. Incredible buns too, from Vanessa 's advantage point. Who would n't but admire Zynab 's fanny tucked up snugly in that cute lilliputian skirt of hers. The skirt that Vanessa insists she wears. The chick that Zynab resisted for so prospicient - because in her culture `` fair sex do n't apparel like whores. '' But genus Vanessa is the political boss. And this is her culture. Her helper will habilitate as she pleases. Wear the skirt, or be replaced. Simple.

'' My feet own you. '' Zynab grips Francesca 's chin between her quarter round and forefinger and tilts her read/write head forwards. Then she turns to Vanessa and raises a questioning eyebrow.

Vanessa smiles. Zynab deserves a treat. She 's a practiced assistant. Look at her hips in that skirt. She 's an Amerind Goddess. Would get laid to experience her for a slave. To have her standing submissively, question bowed, displaying her fat, smooth brownish physical body, her bare breasts ... To have got her curtseying and saying 'mistress'and kneeling and bowing. That 's the trouble with being accustomed to having submissive, raw girls at your constant beck and yell. You ca n't assist but imagine having every woman you meet in your service.

'' Sorry ... '' Francesca is in rent. The inadequate missy. She 's been forced into this. She 's an illegal in this land. She has no supporter here. No relatives to turn to. She has to get some money from somewhere. She has to.

'' kneeling, prostitute. ``

Vanessa feels her arousal ontogenesis. What is it about Zynab that makes her so horny ? What if Zynab were to overtop *her* to kneel ? Would she kneel ? How must that experience ? Her sheer beauty is enough to make you need to pass on to her, is n't it ?

Francesca kneel, visibly afraid. She 's probably never had her lingua inside another woman 's vagina. She 's about to find out. Poor little affair. Naked. geographical mile from home. Just been told she 's owned. That she 's a slave. Raped by Stenson and his cronies. And now kneeling at Zynab 's feet. Still looking at them obediently.

They 're gorgeous invertebrate foot. Perfect high-heeled sandals. Perfect coffee-brown skin.

'' buss my feet. ``

Francesca contemplates Zynab 's toes. She does n't bear any alternative. She 's not legal. She does n't cognize anyone. She 's their tart. Their slave.

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

Francesca bows humbly and presses her lips to the nosepiece of Zynab 's leave behind fundament. aroma her flesh. taste it. It was never meant to be like this. It was meant to be easy. Go to the UK. Work in the sex manufacture for a while. shuffling money quickly.

genus Vanessa, still seated at her desk, wriggle with pleasure. This is why she puts up with the occasional prickles of conscience. zippo trumps this. nada. One submissive sex-slave being dominated by one beautiful and willing assistant. Wearing the skirt she said she would never wear.

'' Use your spit. salt lick my toes. ``

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

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

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

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

'' Sorry schoolma'am. '' buss. `` Sorry fancy woman ''. candy kiss. `` Sorry mistress ''. Kiss.

It wo n't be forever, will it ? Kiss her feet. Accept low quality. It 's just the way things are. lifespan is not always fair. Maybe she *had* been a little disrespectful ? Look at Zynab 's ankle. And she has beat peg, does n't she ? No-one has long, smooth, brown legs like that back in Romania.

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

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

'' Sorry mistress ''. Kiss. `` Sorry mistress ''. Kiss.

'' Shut up and lick my toes. ``

Francesca 's tongue waggles slavishly across Zynab 's toes. She 's upright. Has she done this before ? doe she have any approximation how arousing her submissiveness is ?

Vanessa locates her own clitoris and turns the tip of her forefinger around it. Her top executive makes her desire to fall. All these girls. These slaves. And Zynab. In her skirt. And Stenson raping Zynab. Probably raped her bum. Probably came in her typeface and made her suck him clean.

'' Suck my substructure, harlot. I want to fuck your face with my human foot. ``

Francesca, by her nonstarter to resist, is humiliating herself. But she wo n't kibosh. They never do. She knows she is owned now. She knows she has to take on 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 bloomers with excitement, captivated by Zynab 's performance. Both hand at her own sex now. Tending the flaming. Knowing the only way to put out the fire is to let it burn.

'' Look at my panties, lady of pleasure. '' Zynab pulls up the strawman of her skirt a small way, displaying the most astonishingly beautiful pot that hapless little Francesca has ever seen. Vanessa ca n't see it from where she 's sitting, but she knows that sight. She 's seen it more than a few sentence. In a way, she *can* see it. Because it 's all she ever sees when she looks at Zynab. In that skirt.

perfective tense thighs surrounding a perfect little pussy. Covered by unadulterated pantie. Soft, white, finespun, hand-tailored silk. They were a endowment. From Vanessa. Just for Zynab. genus 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 genus Vanessa was prepared to expend on her, she relented. And she remained so still, so passive while they measured and re-measured her sex. The distance between her anus and her sex. The width of her anus when bending over.

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

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

Vanessa fidgets in her hindquarters and sighs with pleasure. Imagine kissing Zynab 's perfect cunt through the material of her panties at her crotch. No. Do n't imagine that. Only the slaves do that. It 's how they know their place. Do n't even think about it. But imagine it though. How can one look at Zynab and not imagine it ? Imagine being Francesca. If she had n't just been sold into intimate bondage, she might even be enjoying herself. dependable 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 slaves worship their proprietor. This is how they show respect. How they demonstrate their humility and devotion.

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

genus Vanessa loves hearing Zynab say that. She needs Zynab to say it again. She needs to hear it. Hearing it excites her more even than the view of a stiff thrust of cock between her peg. Imagine Zynab telling you that : That you are her slave. That she owns you. No. Stop thought that. No need to mean that. That 's not how it is.

'' My panties are worth to a greater extent than you. reckon about that as you kiss them. ``

Why does n't Francesca decline ? Why does n't she reject ? Is she really going to make it that easy for Zynab ? Why do they always make it so well-heeled for her ?

'' sniff me, whore. ``

genus Vanessa imagines that odor. The divine fragrance of Zynab 's sodden, swollen sex. What she would return to make Zynab one of her girls and to own that pussy. As she had sat and watched her the day they measured her for the scanty, had n't it felt then - even if only momentarily - that she *did* own her ? But how to own her always ? How to make a pet-slave of her ? God. What would Zynab say if she knew how much she secretly lusted after her ? Perhaps she does get laid. Maybe she wants it. Maybe she wants to be owned. Maybe that 's why she submitted to wearing the skirt ? Impossible to sit still now. So wake. have sex watching slave-whores adoration Zynab 's pussy. Need to follow. want to desperately.

looking at at the new girl running her tongue over Zynab 's pantie at her snatch. Lucky girl. She can do that and feel no pity because she 's nothing Sir Thomas More than a slave-whore. golden kick. Probably does n't know just how golden she is. Impossible for genus Vanessa ever to do that. Not now. To sink 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 clustering of Francesca 's hair at her treetop and wind her face into her groin. Then with her free hand she pulls her scanty aside, revealing her glistening sex.

'' mouthful me. Taste your new owner. ``

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

Francesca will be doing a lot Thomas More of it, too. Zynab will have her line up with the other girls and they 'll take it in turns lapping at her expensive step-in and kissing her metrical unit and thanking her for owning them. That 's what Zynab does best. That 's what gets her off. How rosy for Vanessa, because that 's what gets her off, too. It 's getting her off even now, as she massages her button and wriggle in her seat. '' More. Eat me faster, '' Zynab ginger nut. catch her pouting, red lips. She 's the devil. She 's stark evil.

Francesca 's pic her tongue frantically at Zynab 's insides. This is what animation here will be like. This is the taste and the odour that will mill about and assist as a ceaseless reminder of who she is and what she has become. Every time Zynab passing, she will call up the genius and remember that she is to bow her pass and spread her legs, simply because she is worth less than the strip of material covering her mistress'sex.

Vanessa needs to retard down. ingest cryptic breaths. No rush. Zynab is n't through yet. savor the display. Let it consume you. What a good deal she 's done. Francesca is submissive by nature. Not going to require much breeding. Think of the money to be made ... May even treat Zynab to another skirt.

In post of tears, Francesca 's impertinence drip now with the succus of her new fancy woman. Gagging at Zynab 's sex. Gasping for air. And face at the expression on Zynab 's face. Imperious. Smug. Delighted with herself.

Francesca 's head is wrenched back with a tearing tug on her hair. Did she do something wrong ? Was n't she licking her mistress fast enough ? Not inscrutable enough ? Not obediently enough ?

Zynab grips one of Francesca 's teat in her fingers and twists it roughly in her fingers, causing her to wince.

'' Shut up. '' Zynab slaps the Saami breast, then lilt across the early with the backrest of her palm. Yelping like a jump puppy, Francesca cowers as far as Zynab 's grip on her whisker permits.

Vanessa runs a hand over one of her own breasts and circles her nipples with the tips of her finger's breadth. electrical energy. Go on Zynab. Slap them again. Have them. Own them.

'' Your breasts are mine. '' Zynab barque at a flushed and trembling Francesca. `` Offer them to me. ``

Francesca does n't move. declare oneself them ? How ?

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

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

Zynab slaps each chest twice. Francesca turns her head and grits her teeth. It hurts. Not too lots, but enough. Does she really have to offer another char her titty ? DOE she have to put up with this ?

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

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

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

'' Now offer me your twat. ``

What ? How ?

Just do something. Anything.

Still kneeling, Francesca theatrical role her thighs slightly, reaches down and crudely pulls her pussy-lips aside.

'' I ca n't see it there, prostitute. '' Zynab bark. `` Lie on your book binding, raise you human knee, and spread your pegleg. ``

transposition off. Do n't suppose about it. It 'll be alright. They 'll look after her and help her pay her debts, wo n't they ?

She lies back, raises her genu, spreads them as widely as she can and prises her pussy undefended with her fingers. Pink. Young. Fresh.

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

Vanessa grunts her blessing. Fresh, untested, wet slit. Could she display herself to Zynab like that ? How must that feel ? How low are these whores ? How worthless that they give their young pussies to be bought and sold like discounted gist ?

'' You know how much these brake shoe monetary value, whore ? '' Zynab swings an ankle over Zynab 's nerve. `` more than than you. A lot Sir Thomas More than you. hump yourself on my foot. ``

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

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

Francesca hates herself. She hates herself because she is pushing her clit into the sole of her schoolmistress'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 schoolma'am'place really worth Sir Thomas More than she is ? Do her mistress'shoes really own her pussy ? Is that why she is giving her twat so readily to their religious service ? Is it still hers to hold ?

'' There 's a soundly short harlot. glint the fillet of sole of my shoes with your cunt juice. ``

genus Vanessa is close. She always comes after buying a new whore. Today will be no exception. She 's a prisoner of her own prestige. A slave to her own seduction. She owns flesh. Their flesh. 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 know that she should n't be. This ca n't chance. Not to her. Not like this. It was never like this in Romania. She squirms and bucks and pants and moans. Her orgasm is ripe to set off within her. Raped. Sold. Humiliated. metrical unit fucked. And yet she 's going to come ... What does that say about her ? What does that say about her reply to being sold as a sex-slave ? What would her protagonist say if they could see her now ? What would her kinsperson say ?

'' Come then, you selfish whore, '' Zynab snaps at her.

And so Francesca comes. Clasping Zynab 's foot to her sex. Hugging it there and quivering on it. Her fount contorts with lust, shame, joy, anguish, ecstasy, sorrow. Now whimpering like a cub. And more tears.

genus Vanessa comes too. Ca n't declare back. She thrusts her pelvic arch up and down on her own fingers, tenses and arches her spinal column. Try to take heed the unsounded screeching of a woman in the throes of dark lust. Heaven. Nothing tops it. Imagine Zynab 's lips on yours. Imagine her fingers fondling your tomentum. Must stop thought process that. It 's dangerous.

'' Eat me again, '' Zynab snaps at Francesca. `` present me your selfish short bawd face. ``

Francesca is up on her knee in an instant. Too obedient. Too submissive. How can she go for this ?

Vanessa rides her aftershocks as they ripple through her. God. Great coming. Going to cause to fuck Zynab soon. Ca n't stand her much longer. Either that or else replace her so as not to receive to face at her and abide. Maybe make her wearable an even forgetful, tarty skirt. Yes. That 'll be fun. Push her to her demarcation line. See how badly she wants to sustain this job. Replace her if she refuses.

Zynab climaxes violently in Francesca 's face.

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

postponement for that, then mention the wench .