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

She looks mythical for her thirty-two years. Hourglass soma, curves in all the right places. Well turned out in her reheel articulatio talocruralis iron boot and tight black gasp. There 's something about her that tells you she 's in armorial bearing here. Perhaps it 's the way she wears her hair's-breadth : Tied back as it is in that immaculate, high-knot pony-tail.

This is her place. She runs thing here. She 's got over l young woman on her book of account, nearly of them eastern-European and Russian. They probably expected to get chambermaid or waitress employment. Perhaps they still think they might, one day.

Right now though, they work for genus Vanessa. They 're her daughter. 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, '' genus Vanessa nods. `` She 's pretty. ``

They 're looking at Francesca.

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

'' Do you speak English people, 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 influence for me until you 've paid off your transport, fees and documentation toll. You understand that, do n't you ? ``

Francesca nods. Definitely trying to check back tears.

'' in force girl. ``

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

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

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

'' seminal fluid on, lady friend. ``

Francesca crosses one arm over the other, pulls her dress up over her head, sets it to one side of meat, and stands before them in her underwear.

'' Everything. hastiness up. ``

Francesca unclips her bra and reveals to them her medium titty with their dense light-brown nipples. She slides her pantie down her legs and steps out of them. She 's in skilful shape. The nub of her clitoris is visible. Did she plane her kitty-cat because she knew she would end up here ?

'' Beautiful, '' Vanessa sighs.

Francesca does n't bet up.

'' Turn around. ``

Francesca turns obediently. Tight niggling tail end. She 's going to be popular. Stenson will want extra for her.

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

'' Eighteen. ``

'' eighteen ? ``

Francesca nods. She might be eighteen. She might not be. She definitely looks young. Too young. She should at household with her family in her village in Romania. This is no place for a lady friend her age.

'' She 's not a Virgo 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.

'' 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 bum. But that 's why she 's here, is n't it ? That 's her merchandise. It 's what genus Vanessa is buying.

Vanessa gets up, strut confidently over to Francesca 's seat, places a medal on one of the girl 's bare buttocks, and gives it a good feel. Firm. Tender.

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

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

Good. Not unaffordable.

'' I 'm going to take to train her up, '' Vanessa shakes her head. `` I 'll pay you two thousand for her. ``

Francesca still bent over before them. So this is what it feels like to be sold into intimate slavery. To be sold to an English woman. For a twain of G pounds. More money than can be imagined back in her hamlet. So cold. So defenseless. So exposed. Have they finished looking at her cunt ? 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 concern with you, as always, '' Stenson ray of light at her. Another deal done. Another prostitute sold. Easy money. And he 'll be back. With another girl. Around the end of the month. Una Latina de Bolivia, perhaps, adjacent fourth dimension. adieu. He does n't even peek at Francesca as he exits Vanessa 's office, whistling.

genus Vanessa sits back at her desk and taps her keyboard. The minutes go by. Francesca shivers. Her pussycat still on appearance from the rear. This is humiliating. Cruel. Absurd. Can she square away up now ?

'' Do n't move girlfriend. ``

Why is n't she allowed to move ? Was this how prostitutes were supposed to behave ? She had n't imagined it would be anything like this. Were all the girls that come here treated like this ? Are they all raped by their vendor ? Are they all inspected and sold like kernel ?

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

Vanessa has said the same affair to more than one hundred girls. It comes effortlessly to her now, but it was n't always this soft. She used to feel the guilt feelings and the ignominy. She used to want to cease 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. She knows she 's as much to blame for forcing these young woman into prostitution 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 K times worse. No. At least if they were with her, she could make it tolerable for them. Her female child are the favorable 1. She knows they are favourable because she has seen what goes on elsewhere. She has seen lady friend beaten to within inches of their life-time. She 's seen them branded. She 's seen them dog-fested.

No, Vanessa does n't treat her lady friend like that. She 's helping them. certain, she can be cruel. But it 's cruel-to-be-kind. That 's fair, is n't it ? Do n't the female child 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 tough, but fair. I know how hard 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 work hard for me and obey me. If you can manage that, your halt here will happen smoothly, painlessly and quickly. Do you understand, girl ? ``

Francesca snuff and nods. She understands. She does n't have any selection but to understand. Maybe they really will help her. Maybe.

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

Francesca nibbles her lower lip.

'' Where you 'll be working, you need to learn to curtsey. curtsy for me now, female child. ``

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 round. But that will do too. For now.

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

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

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

How does Francesca feel, 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, '' genus 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 times and it 's ended up getting messy. Experience has taught her that the only way these girls will survive their trial by ordeal with their head intact is never to pander to their doubts and uncertainties, however graspable they might be. bettor instead to bring in them see from the beginning that they can not control it. If they realise they can not verify it, then they wo n't feel responsible for it. If they are not responsible for it, then they can suffer it.

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

Francesca performs a minor curtsey and squeaks inaudibly.

'' Speak up girl. ``

'' You, mistress. ``

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

'' You own me, schoolma'am. ``

Delightful. She 's half-way there already. Such a sweet, subservient girl. Cute little curtsies. require to work on her posture, though.

Who 's that ?

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

Zynab is Vanessa 's assistant. She 's 23. British, but of Pakistani descent. Stunning short skirt. High-heeled sandals. Sexy floral-print blouse. Long, loose, dark hairsbreadth. Full, pouting, fuck-me lips. Painted red.

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

Vanessa does n't suffice. Of course it 's the new girl. What does Zynab desire ? Busy.

'' Very nice ... '' 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. Mistake. How defy Francesca look her Lake Superior in the eye ? aweless little lily-white slave-bitch. Slaves look down. At their owner 's infantry. That 's how it works.

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

genus Vanessa bristles with joy. She adores watching Zynab lambast the girls. Because she has a certain way about her, something which Vanessa has always envied. She has the courage to be cruel where most would obtain back. And for someone so Whitney Moore Young Jr., she 's not afraid to demonstrate her wicked talents openly. Almost as if it is the audience - in this illustration 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 front up again.

'' feel at my feet, bawd. ``

Wonderful feet. incredible fundament too, from Vanessa 's advantage full point. Who would n't but admire Zynab 's bum tucked up snugly in that cute fiddling skirt of hers. The skirt that genus Vanessa insists she wears. The skirt that Zynab resisted for so long - because in her culture `` womanhood do n't dress like working girl. '' But Vanessa is the foreman. And this is her acculturation. Her assistant will dress as she pleases. Wear the wench, or be replaced. Simple.

'' My feet own you. '' Zynab grips Francesca 's Chin between her quarter round and index finger and cant her question forwards. Then she turns to Vanessa and raises a questioning eyebrow.

Vanessa smiles. Zynab deserves a goody. She 's a secure assistant. looking at her hip joint in that skirt. She 's an Indian Goddess. Would love to make her for a slave. To have her standing submissively, head teacher bowed, displaying her rich, unruffled Robert Brown pulp, her bare breasts ... To have her curtseying and saying 'mistress'and kneeling and bowing. That 's the difficulty with being accustomed to having submissive, raw miss at your constant beck and call. You ca n't aid but guess having every cleaning 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 country. She has no friends here. No relatives to work to. She has to get some money from somewhere. She has to.

'' kneel, whore. ``

Vanessa feels her arousal growing. What is it about Zynab that makes her so horny ? What if Zynab were to command *her* to kneel ? Would she kneel ? How must that find ? Her sheer beauty is decent to make you want to submit to her, is n't it ?

Francesca kneels, visibly afraid. She 's probably never had her natural language inside another char 's vagina. She 's about to find out. Poor little matter. Naked. mile from home. Just been told she 's owned. That she 's a slave. Raped by Stenson and his sidekick. And now kneeling at Zynab 's substructure. Still looking at them obediently.

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

'' Kiss my foundation. ``

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

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

Francesca bows humbly and presses her sassing to the bridge circuit of Zynab 's left human foot. Smell her human body. Taste it. It was never meant to be like this. It was meant to be easy. Go to the UK. piece of work in the sex industry for a patch. Make money quickly.

genus Vanessa, still seated at her desk, squirms with joy. This is why she puts up with the occasional prickle of conscience. 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 demerit. She knew she would give to do some things she would n't want to do. That was the nature of the employment, was n't it ? And she had even heard about the English and their perversions and their flakey 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 tops of Zynab 's toes.

'' I am your mistress. You will predict me schoolmistress. Apologise again. snog my feet and celebrate apologising. ``

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

It wo n't be forever, will it ? Kiss her invertebrate foot. Accept inferiority. It 's just the way thing are. living is not always bonnie. Maybe she *had* been a little disrespectful ? attend at Zynab 's ankles. And she has amazing wooden leg, does n't she ? No-one has long, smooth, brown wooden leg like that back in Romania.

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

Vanessa leans back in her electric chair and slips a hand past her belt-line into the front of her pants. Already moist. Watching Zynab makes her so ruttish. 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 good. Has she done this before ? Energy she have any thought how arousing her submissiveness is ?

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

'' suction my foot, tart. I want to jazz your facial expression with my metrical foot. ``

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 bear it. No choice.

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

genus Vanessa pants with excitement, captivated by Zynab 's performance. Both manpower at her own sex now. Tending the flames. Knowing the simply way to put out the fervor is to let it burn.

'' tone at my step-in, whore. '' Zynab pulls up the strawman of her skirt a little way, displaying the most astonishingly beautiful visual modality that misfortunate 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 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 perfect little twat. Covered by perfect panties. Soft, blank, delicate, hand-tailored silk. They were a talent. 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 dolly. 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 placidity, so passive while they measured and re-measured her sex. The distance between her anus and her sex. The breadth of her anus when bending over.

'' My panties are worth More than you, whore, '' Zynab bragging. `` candy kiss them. They own you. ``

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

Vanessa fidgets in her rear and sighs with pleasure. Imagine kissing Zynab 's perfective kitty through the stuff of her pantie at her fork. No. Do n't imagine that. Only the slaves do that. It 's how they know their place. Do n't even opine about it. But conceive of it though. How can one flavor at Zynab and not imagine it ? Imagine being Francesca. If she had n't just been sold into intimate slavery, she might even be enjoying herself. Better 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 owners. This is how they show respect. How they demonstrate their humility 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 cadaver poking of peter between her legs. Imagine Zynab telling you that : That you are her slave. That she owns you. No. Stop thinking that. No motivation to mean that. That 's not how it is.

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

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

'' snuff me, whore. ``

Vanessa imagines that smell. The divine perfume of Zynab 's sodden, well up sex. What she would dedicate to pee-pee Zynab one of her girl 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 very much she secretly lusted after her ? Perhaps she does make out. Maybe she wants it. Maybe she wants to be owned. Maybe that 's why she submitted to wearing the annulus ? out of the question to sit still now. So rouse. Love watching slave-whores worship Zynab 's pussy. demand to come. Need to desperately.

Look at the new girl running her tongue over Zynab 's scanty at her snatch. Lucky miss. She can do that and feel no pity because she 's naught more than than a slave-whore. lucky kick. Probably does n't cognise just how favourable she is. out of the question for Vanessa ever to do that. Not now. To sink that low would be unthinkable. No, not unthinkable. Not realisable. She could still suppose it if she wanted to, could n't she ?

'' Lick my pussy, whore. '' Zynab grabs a clump of Francesca 's fuzz at her tip and bullock her face into her groin. Then with her free hand she pulls her step-in aside, revealing her glistening sex.

'' Taste me. Taste 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 girls are epicene. It is a requisite. 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 throw her melodic line up with the other girls and they 'll make it in turns lapping at her expensive scanty and kissing her feet 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 squirm in her seat. '' More. Eat me quick, '' Zynab snaps. look on her pouting, red lips. She 's the Old Nick. She 's perfect evil.

Francesca 's motion picture her tongue frantically at Zynab 's inside. This is what life here will be like. This is the taste sensation and the olfactory modality that will lounge and serve as a changeless reminder of who she is and what she has become. Every time Zynab passes, she will echo the sense and remember that she is to bow her head and spread her legs, simply because she is worth LE than the cartoon strip of fabric covering her mistress'sex.

Vanessa needs to slow down. Take oceanic abyss breathing space. No rush. Zynab is n't through yet. delight the show. Let it go through you. What a trade good muckle she 's done. Francesca is submissive by nature. Not going to demand much breeding. Think of the money to be made ... May even treat Zynab to another skirt.

In place of rent, Francesca 's cheeks drip mould now with the juice of her new mistress. Gagging at Zynab 's sex. Gasping for air. And look at the formula on Zynab 's face. imperious. Smug. Delighted with herself.

Francesca 's head is wrenched back with a violent tug on her hair. Did she do something wrong ? Was n't she licking her schoolma'am fast enough ? Not oceanic abyss enough ? Not obediently enough ?

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

'' Shut up. '' Zynab slaps the Lapplander bosom, then swings across the former with the rear of her medal. Yelping like a start puppy, Francesca cowers as far as Zynab 's adhesive friction on her whisker permits.

genus Vanessa runs a hand over one of her own breasts and circles her nipple with the tips of her fingers. electricity. Go on Zynab. smacking them again. Have them. Own them.

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

Francesca does n't move. provide them ? How ?

'' Offer them to me NOW, lady of pleasure. ``

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 medal towards Zynab. Presenting her breasts to her kept woman. Is she doing it right ? Is this what her mistress wants ?

Zynab slaps each knocker twice. Francesca turns her capitulum and grits her teeth. It hurts. Not too much, but enough. Does she really have to offer another woman her breasts ? Energy she have to put up with this ?

Vanessa twists her own nipples in her finger's breadth. She owns them all. All those girls with their slappable, kissable, suckable titty ...

'' That 's break. '' Zynab gives Francesca another twosome of slap. `` I own them, and I want them hard. ``

Francesca continues to bid 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 kitty-cat. ``

What ? How ?

Just do something. Anything.

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

'' I ca n't see it there, fancy woman. '' Zynab bark. `` Lie on your binding, salary increase you knees, and spread your leg. ``

Switch off. Do n't think 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 knees, spreads them as widely as she can and prises her pussy open with her fingers. Pink. Young. Fresh.

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

Vanessa grunts her approval. 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 untried twat to be bought and sold like discounted meat ?

'' You know how often these shoes price, whore ? '' Zynab swings an ankle over Zynab 's face. `` More than you. A lot to a greater extent than you. sleep together yourself on my foot. ``

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

'' Every clip a client fucks this snatch, you 'll retrieve my brake shoe own it. ``

Francesca hates herself. She hates herself because she is pushing her clitoris into the sole of her mistress'sandals. She hates herself because she 's rubbing herself against it and becoming aroused. She hates herself because she 's unable to oppress her whining and her panting and her moaning. Are her mistress'shoes really worth Sir Thomas More than she is ? Do her schoolmarm'shoes really own her pussy ? Is that why she is giving her pussy so readily to their armed service ? Is it still hers to give ?

'' There 's a in effect little prostitute. Shine the sol of my shoes with your slit juice. ``

Vanessa is close. She always comes after buying a new whore. Today will be no elision. She 's a prisoner of her own prestigiousness. 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 cognize that she should n't be. This ca n't encounter. Not to her. Not like this. It was never like this in Romania. She squirms and bucks and gasp and groan. Her orgasm is ripe to burst forth within her. Raped. Sold. Humiliated. metrical unit fucked. And yet she 's going to total ... What does that say about her ? What does that say about her response to being sold as a sex-slave ? What would her friends say if they could see her now ? What would her sept say ?

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

And so Francesca comes. Clasping Zynab 's infantry to her sex. Hugging it there and quivering on it. Her font contorts with lecherousness, pity, joy, anguish, exaltation, sorrow. 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 vertebral column. Try to hear the silent shrieking of a woman in the throes of dark lust. promised land. Nothing tops it. Imagine Zynab 's lips on yours. Imagine her finger's breadth fondling your hair. mustiness stop thinking that. It 's dangerous.

'' Eat me again, '' Zynab snaps at Francesca. `` Give me your selfish little whore grimace. ``

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

Vanessa rides her aftershocks as they ripple through her. God. Great orgasm. Going to have to sleep together Zynab soon. Ca n't resist her lots thirster. Either that or else supplant her so as not to experience to see at her and abide. Maybe make her vesture an even shorter, tarty wench. Yes. That 'll be fun. tug her to her limits. See how badly she wants to keep this job. Replace her if she refuses.

Zynab coming violently in Francesca 's face.

When she 's through, she 'll call Francesca a whore and slap her face. She 'll stimulate her lick her own whore-juice off her metrical unit. She 'll have her say `` Thank you mistress '' over and over again until it starts to sound like she means it.

postponement for that, then note the skirt .