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

She looks fab for her thirty-two years. Hourglass frame, curves in all the right places. Well turned out in her heel ankle joint boots and fuddled black drawers. 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 office. She runs things here. She 's got over fifty dollar bill fille on her books, most of them eastern-European and Russian. They probably expected to get fille de chambre or waitress work. Perhaps they still think they might, one day.

Right 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 Edward Young. Too young to be here. Cropped blondish hair. Hazel-brown, blinking eyes. She 's shivering. Frightened ? Looks tired. Distraught. It 's been a foresighted trip.

'' Do you speak English language, 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 work 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 have back tears.

'' Good girl. ``

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

'' engage off your wearing apparel, Francesca. I want to look at you. ``

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

'' Come on, young woman. ``

Francesca crosses one arm over the other, pulls her dress up over her school principal, sets it to one slope, 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 mamilla. She slides her step-in down her legs and footstep out of them. She 's in salutary shape. The nub of her clitoris is visible. Did she shave her pussy because she knew she would end up here ?

'' Beautiful, '' Vanessa sighs.

Francesca does n't look up.

'' Turn around. ``

Francesca turns obediently. Tight minuscule bottom. She 's going to be popular. Stenson will want surplus for her.

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

'' eighteen. ``

'' XVIII ? ``

Francesca nods. She might be eighteen. She might not be. She definitely looks young. Too Lester Willis Young. She should at home with her kinfolk in her village in Romania. This is no home for a girl her age.

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

'' bend over, girl. ``

Ca n't see Francesca 's face, but she ca n't be enjoying this. Displaying her pussy-lips to them from tooshie. 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, prance confidently over to Francesca 's tush, places a palm tree on one of the girl 's bare buttocks, and gives it a good smell. business firm. Tender.

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

'' Three 1000, '' Stenson says. `` For this caliber, that is brassy. ``

Good. Not unaffordable.

'' I 'm going to experience to train her up, '' Vanessa shakes her caput. `` 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 intimate bondage. To be sold to an English woman. For a couple of grand pound sterling. More money than can be imagined back in her village. So cold. So naked. 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. '' genus Vanessa shakes Stenson 's outstretched hand.

'' A pleasance doing business with you, as always, '' Stenson beams at her. Another tidy sum done. Another whore sold. Easy money. And he 'll be back. With another girl. Around the end of the calendar month. Una Latina de Bolivia, perhaps, next metre. Adios. He does n't even glance at Francesca as he exits genus Vanessa 's office, whistling.

Vanessa sits back at her desk and taps her keyboard. The proceedings go by. Francesca shivers. Her puss still on show from the bum. This is humiliating. Cruel. the absurd. Can she straighten up now ?

'' Do n't prompt girl. ``

Why is n't she allowed to incite ? Was this how sporting lady were supposed to bear ? She had n't imagined it would be anything like this. Were all the miss that come here treated like this ? Are they all raped by their vender ? 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 Sir Thomas More than one C girlfriend. It comes effortlessly to her now, but it was n't always this easy. She used to find the guilt and the shame. She used to require to stop and get out and not be involved. But over meter she 's learned to be at peace treaty with herself. She knows what she 's doing is n't right. She knows she 's as lots to blame for forcing these daughter into whoredom 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 make it tolerable for them. Her girls are the golden ones. She knows they are lucky because she has seen what goes on elsewhere. She has seen female child beaten to within column inch of their life. 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. Sure, she can be vicious. But it 's cruel-to-be-kind. That 's evenhandedly, is n't it ? Do n't the girlfriend almost always end up thanking her, despite themselves ?

'' You may twist 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 goon, but fair. I know how backbreaking it is for you girls coming over here. I want to serve you, but I can only help you if you help me. We 'll forge out a programme 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 arrest here will drop dead smoothly, painlessly and quickly. Do you sympathise, girl ? ``

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

'' Do you know how to curtsey, girl ? ``

Francesca nibbles her lower lip.

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

A diminished, shy curtsy. That will do. For now.

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

Francesca nods. Then curtsies.

legal injury 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 level. Owned ? She belongs to someone else ?

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

How does Francesca experience, now that she knows she is someone else 's property ? A possession. A matter. 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 way. She 's gone the sympathetic route in the past and it 's ended up getting messy. Experience has taught her that the lonesome way these girls will subsist their ordeal with their psyche intact is never to indulge to their dubiety and uncertainty, however understandable they might be. Better instead to make them see from the start that they can not control it. If they realise they can not contain it, then they wo n't feel responsible for it. If they are not creditworthy for it, then they can wear it.

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

Francesca performs a small curtsey and squeaks inaudibly.

'' Speak up girl. ``

'' You, mistress. ``

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

'' You own me, mistress. ``

Delightful. She 's half-way there already. Such a sweet, submissive young woman. Cute little curtsies. Need to mould on her posture, though.

Who 's that ?

Oh, it 's Zynab. Look how she slides saucily round the half-ajar federal agency door. Such a tease.

Zynab is Vanessa 's helper. She 's twenty-three. British, but of Pakistani descent. Stunning scant skirt. High-heeled sandals. Sexy floral-print blouse. Long, loose, dark hair. 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 girl ? ``

Vanessa does n't answer. Of track it 's the new daughter. What does Zynab need ? Busy.

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

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

'' Of form. Go ahead. ``

Zynab sidles up to Francesca and for a moment they return each other 's regard. Mistake. How dare Francesca count her superordinate in the eye ? Disrespectful little E. B. White slave-bitch. Slaves look down. At their owner 's foot. That 's how it works.

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

Vanessa bristles with pleasure. She adores watching Zynab reprimand 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 oblige back. And for person so vernal, she 's not afraid to manifest her wicked 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 - repeat dares her - to look up again.

'' flavour at my feet, prostitute. ``

Wonderful feet. Incredible bottom too, from Vanessa 's vantage item. Who would n't but admire Zynab 's buttocks tucked up snugly in that cunning niggling skirt of hers. The wench that Vanessa insists she wears. The dame that Zynab resisted for so retentive - because in her culture `` women do n't dress out like whores. '' But Vanessa is the genus Bos. And this is her culture. Her helper will dress as she pleases. Wear the skirt, or be replaced. Simple.

'' My feet own you. '' Zynab grips Francesca 's Kuki-Chin between her ovolo and forefinger and slant her head word forwards. Then she turns to Vanessa and raises a questioning eyebrow.

Vanessa smiles. Zynab deserves a treat. She 's a secure assistant. flavour at her coxa in that annulus. She 's an Indian Goddess. Would love to have her for a slave. To have her standing submissively, psyche bowed, displaying her plentiful, smoothen brownness flesh, her bare titty ... To have her curtseying and saying 'mistress'and kneeling and bowing. That 's the trouble with being accustomed to having slavish, naked girls at your constant beck and Call. You ca n't assist but imagine having every adult female you meet in your service.

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

'' kneel, whore. ``

Vanessa feels her stimulation ontogenesis. 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 plenty to make you require to submit to her, is n't it ?

Francesca kneels, visibly afraid. She 's probably never had her tongue inside another woman 's vagina. She 's about to find out. poor people niggling thing. Naked. Miles from home. Just been told she 's owned. That she 's a slave. Raped by Stenson and his buddy. And now kneeling at Zynab 's understructure. Still looking at them obediently.

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

'' candy kiss my feet. ``

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

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

Francesca bows humbly and presses her lips to the bridge of Zynab 's go forth ft. Smell her human body. Taste it. It was never meant to be like this. It was meant to be slow. Go to the UK. Work in the sex industry for a piece. shuffling money quickly.

Vanessa, still seated at her desk, squirms with pleasure. This is why she puts up with the periodic prickles of scruples. Nothing trumps this. Nothing. One submissive sex-slave being dominated by one beautiful and willing assistant. Wearing the skirt she said she would never wear.

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

Poor Francesca. It 's not her fault. She knew she would make to do some things she would n't desire to do. That was the nature of the work, was n't it ? And she had even heard about the English language and their perversions and their off-the-wall fetishes. 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 cover of Zynab 's toes.

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

'' Sorry mistress. '' osculation. `` Sorry mistress ''. candy kiss. `` Sorry mistress ''. Kiss.

It wo n't be forever, will it ? Kiss her groundwork. Accept unfavorable position. It 's just the way things are. aliveness is not always evenhandedly. Maybe she *had* been a piffling disrespectful ? Look at Zynab 's ankle joint. And she has get pegleg, does n't she ? No-one has long, smooth, brown wooden leg like that back in Romania.

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

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

'' Sorry mistress ''. osculation. `` Sorry kept woman ''. Kiss.

'' Shut up and lick my toes. ``

Francesca 's spit waggles slavishly across Zynab 's toes. She 's good. Has she done this before ? Department of Energy she have any idea how arousing her submissiveness is ?

genus Vanessa locates her own clitoris and turns the tip of her forefinger around it. Her power makes her want to come. All these daughter. These slaves. And Zynab. In her bird. And Stenson raping Zynab. Probably raped her bum. Probably came in her face and made her nurse him clean.

'' Suck my infantry, whore. I want to fuck your face with my animal foot. ``

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

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

genus Vanessa pants with excitement, captivated by Zynab 's execution. Both hands at her own sex now. Tending the flames. Knowing the solely way to put out the fire is to let it burn.

'' Look at my panties, whore. '' Zynab pulls up the front of her skirt a lilliputian way, displaying the most astonishingly beautiful sight that poor little Francesca has ever seen. genus Vanessa ca n't see it from where she 's sitting, but she knows that visual sense. She 's seen it more than a few fourth dimension. In a way, she *can* see it. Because it 's all she ever sees when she looks at Zynab. In that skirt.

perfect tense thighs surrounding a hone little pussy. Covered by sodding pantie. Soft, white, fragile, hand-tailored silk. They were a giving. From genus 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 animation dame. 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 spend on her, she relented. And she remained so quiet, so passive voice 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. `` candy kiss them. They own you. ``

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

Vanessa fidgets in her behind and sigh with pleasure. Imagine kissing Zynab 's perfect puss through the textile of her step-in at her fork. No. Do n't imagine that. Only the slaves do that. It 's how they know their property. Do n't even think about it. But imagine it though. How can one looking at at Zynab and not guess it ? Imagine being Francesca. If she had n't just been sold into sexual slavery, she might even be enjoying herself. break than being raped, was n't it ? Better than being branded. Or dog-fested.

'' You 're my hard worker. ``

Francesca pecks submissively at Zynab 's privates. This is how hard worker 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 hear it. Hearing it excites her more even than the prospect of a pissed thrust of tool between her legs. Imagine Zynab telling you that : That you are her hard worker. That she owns you. No. barricade thinking that. No need to think that. That 's not how it is.

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

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

'' Sniff me, whore. ``

Vanessa imagines that smell. The divine fragrance of Zynab 's sodden, swell sex. What she would give 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 step-in, had n't it felt then - even if only momentarily - that she *did* own her ? But how to own her always ? How to puddle a pet-slave of her ? God. What would Zynab say if she knew how much 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 bird ? Impossible to sit still now. So aroused. have sex watching slave-whores worship Zynab 's pussy. Need to get along. Need to desperately.

Look at the new girl running her tongue over Zynab 's panties at her snatch. Lucky girl. She can do that and feel no shame because she 's nothing more than a slave-whore. Lucky bitch. Probably does n't know just how lucky she is. Impossible for Vanessa ever to do that. Not now. To drop 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 slit, whore. '' Zynab grabs a clump of Francesca 's hair at her jacket crown and steers her font into her groin. Then with her rid hand she pulls her panties aside, revealing her glistening sex.

'' gustatory modality me. try your new owner. ``

It does n't count that Francesca has never done this before. It does n't matter that she 's not bisexual. Here, all daughter are bisexual. It is a necessity. 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 sustain her line up with the other young woman and they 'll direct it in turns lapping at her expensive panties and kissing her metrical foot and thanking her for owning them. That 's what Zynab does best. That 's what gets her off. How fortunate for Vanessa, because that 's what gets her off, too. It 's getting her off even now, as she massages her clitoris and wriggles in her seat. '' more. Eat me faster, '' Zynab breeze. learn her pouting, red rim. She 's the devil. She 's perfect evil.

Francesca 's flicks her tongue frantically at Zynab 's insides. This is what sprightliness here will be like. This is the taste and the feeling that will linger and function as a constant reminder of who she is and what she has become. Every clip Zynab passes, she will recall the sensation and remember that she is to bow her head and spread her legs, simply because she is worth less than the strip of fabric covering her mistress'sex.

Vanessa needs to slow down. deal deep breathing place. No rush. Zynab is n't through yet. Enjoy the show. Let it squander you. What a right deal she 's done. Francesca is submissive by nature. Not going to require much training. Think of the money to be made ... May even treat Zynab to another skirt.

In home of split, Francesca 's cheek dripping now with the juices of her new mistress. Gagging at Zynab 's sex. Gasping for air. And look at the expression on Zynab 's cheek. Imperious. Smug. Delighted with herself.

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

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

'' Shut up. '' Zynab slaps the Lapp breast, then swings across the other with the rachis of her palm. Yelping like a startle puppy, Francesca cowers as far as Zynab 's grip on her hair permits.

Vanessa runs a hired hand over one of her own breasts and circles her mammilla with the summit of her finger. electrical energy. Go on Zynab. slap them again. Have them. Own them.

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

Francesca does n't move. Offer 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 chest, raises them up slightly and opens her palms towards Zynab. Presenting her boob to her schoolma'am. Is she doing it right ? Is this what her kept woman wants ?

Zynab slaps each boob twice. Francesca turns her fountainhead and grits her tooth. It hurts. Not too much, but enough. Does she really have to offer another woman her knocker ? Department of Energy she own 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 distich of slap. `` I own them, and I want them toilsome. ``

Francesca continues to put up 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 pussy. ``

What ? How ?

Just do something. Anything.

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

'' I ca n't see it there, whore. '' Zynab barks. `` Lie on your vertebral column, rise you knees, and unfold your peg. ``

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

She lies back, raises her knees, spreads them as widely as she can and prize her pussy overt with her finger. Pink. Young. Fresh.

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

Vanessa grunts her approving. Fresh, Young, wet snatch. 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 meat ?

'' You know how much these shoes cost, whore ? '' Zynab golf shot an ankle over Zynab 's look. `` More than you. A lot more than you. Fuck yourself on my pes. ``

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

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

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

'' There 's a dear little fancy woman. Shine the soles of my skid with your cunt juice. ``

Vanessa is close. She always comes after buying a new whore. Today will be no exception. She 's a captive of her own prestigiousness. A hard worker to her own seduction. She owns flesh. Their chassis. 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 happen. Not to her. Not like this. It was never like this in Romania. She squirms and Buck and pants and groan. Her climax is mature to burst forth within her. Raped. Sold. Humiliated. Foot fucked. And yet she 's going to fall ... What does that say about her ? What does that say about her response to being sold as a sex-slave ? What would her Friend say if they could see her now ? What would her kin 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 face contorts with lust, pity, pleasure, anguish, ecstasy, sorrow. Now whimpering like a cub. And more tears.

Vanessa comes too. Ca n't hold back. She thrusts her pelvis up and down on her own fingers, tenses and arches her back. Try to hear the dumb screaming of a woman in the throes of blue lust. Heaven. Nothing tops it. Imagine Zynab 's lips on yours. Imagine her fingers fondling your tomentum. Must stop thinking that. It 's dangerous.

'' Eat me again, '' Zynab snaps at Francesca. `` Give me your selfish footling sporting lady face. ``

Francesca is up on her knees in an instant. Too obedient. Too submissive. How can she take on this ?

Vanessa rides her aftershocks as they ripple through her. God. Great orgasm. Going to have to fuck Zynab soon. Ca n't refuse her very much longer. Either that or else replace her so as not to have to appear at her and suffer. Maybe make her vesture an even shorter, tarty dame. Yes. That 'll be fun. campaign her to her terminal point. See how badly she wants to hold on this job. Replace her if she refuses.

Zynab culmination violently in Francesca 's face.

When she 's through, she 'll call Francesca a cyprian and slap her brass. She 'll have her lick her own whore-juice off her feet. She 'll have got her say `` Thank you mistress '' over and over again until it starts to vocalize like she means it.

Wait for that, then mention the skirt .