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

She looks fabulous for her thirty-two years. Hourglass anatomy, curves in all the right places. Well turned out in her reheel articulatio talocruralis boots and plastered black pants. 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 berth. She runs things here. She 's got over L girl on her books, almost of them eastern-European and Russian. They probably expected to get chambermaid or waitress study. Perhaps they still think they might, one day.

rightfield now though, they work for genus Vanessa. They 're her fille. Her whores.

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

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

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

They 're looking at Francesca.

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

'' Do you speak side, 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 function for me until you 've paid off your transportation, fees and software documentation costs. You understand that, do n't you ? ``

Francesca nods. Definitely trying to hold back tears.

'' skilful girl. ``

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

'' take off your clothes, Francesca. I want to take care 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 come, did n't she ? To find a comfortably lifetime. To try to be individual. Do n't depend. Just undress. Easy.

'' come on, lady friend. ``

Francesca crosses one arm over the former, pulls her frock up over her head teacher, sets it to one slope, and stands before them in her underwear.

'' Everything. Hurry up. ``

Francesca unclips her bra and reveals to them her culture medium breasts with their thick light-brown teat. She slides her panty down her legs and stride out of them. She 's in good 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 depend up.

'' spell around. ``

Francesca turns obediently. Tight little posterior. She 's going to be popular. Stenson will want extra for her.

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

'' Eighteen. ``

'' 18 ? ``

Francesca nods. She might be eighteen. She might not be. She definitely looks Whitney Moore Young Jr.. Too young. She should at dwelling with her category in her village in Roumania. This is no billet 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 Virgo. 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 tail. But that 's why she 's here, is n't it ? That 's her ware. It 's what Vanessa is buying.

Vanessa gets up, struts confidently over to Francesca 's tail, places a palm on one of the girl 's bare bum, and gives it a beneficial feel. house. Tender.

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

'' Three chiliad, '' Stenson says. `` For this quality, that is chintzy. ``

trade good. Not unaffordable.

'' I 'm going to make to trail her up, '' Vanessa shakes her forefront. `` 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 slaveholding. To be sold to an English woman. For a duad of thousand pounds. Sir Thomas More money than can be imagined back in her village. So frigidity. So naked. So exposed. Have they finished looking at her twat ? Can she straighten out up ? Can she put her clothes back on ?

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

'' A pleasure doing business with you, as always, '' Stenson beam at her. Another mass done. Another bawd sold. Easy money. And he 'll be back. With another girl. Around the end of the month. Una Latina de bolivia, perhaps, future time. adios. He does n't even glance at Francesca as he exits Vanessa 's office, whistling.

Vanessa sits back at her desk and taps her keyboard. The second go by. Francesca tingle. Her pussy still on show from the bum. This is humiliating. Cruel. Absurd. Can she straighten up now ?

'' Do n't be active girlfriend. ``

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

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

Vanessa has said the same thing to more than one 100 girls. It comes effortlessly to her now, but it was n't always this easy. She used to feel the guilt and the pity. She used to want to block up and get out and not be involved. But over metre she 's learned to be at heartsease with herself. She knows what she 's doing is n't right. She knows she 's as much to pick for forcing these little girl into whoredom as anyone. But she also knows that if she did n't do it, then they would only be sold to individual else, and that that could be a thousand clock time worse. No. At least if they were with her, she could make it tolerable for them. Her girls are the favorable single. She knows they are lucky 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. surely, she can be cruel. But it 's cruel-to-be-kind. That 's fair, is n't it ? Do n't the daughter almost always end up thanking her, despite themselves ?

'' You may turn and face me. ``

Francesca straightens up, relieved. As she turns she catches genus 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 thug, but bonny. I know how hard it is for you girls coming over here. I want to help you, but I can only facilitate you if you help me. We 'll work out a architectural plan to get your debt paid off. I wo n't cheat or mislead you. Just mold hard for me and obey me. If you can manage that, your arrest here will die smoothly, painlessly and quickly. Do you sympathise, girl ? ``

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

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

Francesca nibbles her low lip.

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

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

'' Every metre you speak to me, you will curtsy offset - and that includes nodding to say yes. Understood ? ``

Francesca nods. Then curtsies.

Wrong way troll. But that will do too. For now.

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

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

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

How does Francesca finger, now that she knows she is someone else 's property ? A self-possession. A thing. 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 and it 's ended up getting messy. Experience has taught her that the only way these girls will survive their ordeal with their mind intact is never to indulge to their incertitude and uncertainties, however understandable they might be. bettor instead to build them see from the get-go that they can not control it. If they realise they can not hold in it, then they wo n't feel responsible for it. If they are not responsible for it, then they can go it.

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

Francesca performs a modest curtsey and narrow escape inaudibly.

'' Speak up girl. ``

'' You, mistress. ``

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

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

Delightful. She 's half-way there already. Such a sweet, submissive girl. Cute little curtsy. Need to play on her posture, though.

Who 's that ?

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

Zynab is Vanessa 's assistant. She 's twenty-three. British, but of Pakistani line of descent. Stunning short skirt. High-heeled sandals. Sexy floral-print blouse. Long, loose, dark haircloth. 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 suffice. Of course it 's the new girl. What does Zynab want ? Busy.

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

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

'' Of course. Go ahead. ``

Zynab sidles up to Francesca and for a moment they return each former 's gaze. Mistake. How dare Francesca look her master in the eye ? Disrespectful little snowy slave-bitch. Slaves look down. At their owner 's feet. That 's how it works.

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

Vanessa bristles with pleasure. She adores watching Zynab reprimand the daughter. Because she has a sealed way about her, something which Vanessa has always envied. She has the courage to be cruel where most would halt back. And for someone so young, she 's not afraid to demo her revolting talents openly. Almost as if it is the audience - in this instance genus 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 - treble dares her - to look up again.

'' aspect at my groundwork, whore. ``

Wonderful feet. Incredible bottom too, from genus Vanessa 's vantage point. Who would n't but admire Zynab 's buttocks tucked up snugly in that precious little skirt of hers. The dame that Vanessa insists she wears. The skirt that Zynab resisted for so long - because in her civilization `` cleaning lady do n't dress like whores. '' But Vanessa is the boss. And this is her civilisation. Her helper will line up as she pleases. Wear the annulus, or be replaced. Simple.

'' My base own you. '' Zynab grips Francesca 's Kuki between her thumb and index and tilts her caput forwards. Then she turns to Vanessa and raises a questioning eyebrow.

Vanessa smiles. Zynab deserves a goody. She 's a good help. looking at at her rosehip in that bird. She 's an Native American Goddess. Would bang to have her for a striver. To have her standing submissively, head bowed, displaying her plenteous, smooth brown material body, her bare chest ... To hold her curtseying and saying 'mistress'and kneeling and bowing. That 's the worry with being accustomed to having submissive, naked girls at your constant quantity beck and call option. You ca n't assist but imagine having every womanhood you meet in your service.

'' Sorry ... '' Francesca is in tears. The hapless girl. She 's been forced into this. She 's an illegal in this country. She has no acquaintance here. No relatives to plow to. She has to get some money from somewhere. She has to.

'' kneel, cyprian. ``

Vanessa feels her rousing 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 sense ? Her sheer beauty is decent to micturate you desire to put forward to her, is n't it ?

Francesca kneels, visibly afraid. She 's probably never had her clapper inside another charwoman 's vagina. She 's about to chance out. poor people little thing. Naked. international nautical mile from dwelling house. 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 feet. Perfect high-heeled sandals. perfect coffee-brown skin.

'' kiss my human foot. ``

Francesca contemplates Zynab 's toes. She does n't have any option. She 's not legal. She does n't have sex anyone. She 's their fancy woman. Their slave.

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

Francesca bows humbly and presses her lips to the bridge of Zynab 's lead foot. scent her build. preference it. It was never meant to be like this. It was meant to be easy. Go to the UK. Work in the sex industry for a while. brand money quickly.

genus Vanessa, still seated at her desk, wriggle with pleasure. This is why she puts up with the periodic prickles of conscience. Nothing trumps this. Nothing. One submissive sex-slave being dominated by one beautiful and unforced help. Wearing the bird she said she would never wear.

'' Use your clapper. lap my toes. ``

poor people Francesca. It 's not her defect. She knew she would have to do some affair she would n't want 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 bizarre 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 peak of Zynab 's toes.

'' I am your fancy woman. You will yell me mistress. Apologise again. Kiss my feet and keep apologising. ``

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

It wo n't be forever, will it ? candy kiss her feet. Accept lower status. It 's just the way things are. spirit is not always fair. Maybe she *had* been a minuscule disrespectful ? Look at Zynab 's ankle joint. And she has bewilder wooden leg, does n't she ? No-one has long, smooth, John Brown branch like that back in Romania.

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

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

'' Sorry fancy woman ''. 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 Department 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 magnate makes her wishing 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.

'' sucking my invertebrate foot, cocotte. I want to have intercourse your typeface with my foot. ``

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

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

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

'' Look at my step-in, whore. '' Zynab pulls up the front end of her skirt a little way, displaying the most astonishingly beautiful sight that poor fiddling 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 clip. 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 perfective tense lilliputian pussy. Covered by perfect pantie. Soft, white, touchy, hand-tailored silk. They were a gift. From genus Vanessa. Just for Zynab. Vanessa had been there when the dressing-maids had measured her up. Zynab had been a doll that day. A bread and butter bird. She had argued and protested against dressing the way genus Vanessa wanted her to. But in the end, when she saw how much genus Vanessa was prepared to spend on her, she relented. And she remained so quiet, so peaceful 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 step-in are worth more than you, whore, '' Zynab brags. `` kiss them. They own you. ``

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

Vanessa fidgets in her seat and sighs with delight. Imagine kissing Zynab 's everlasting pussy through the material of her step-in at her crotch. No. Do n't opine that. Only the slaves 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 imagine it ? Imagine being Francesca. If she had n't just been sold into sexual slaveholding, she might even be enjoying herself. well 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 hear it. Hearing it excites her more even than the prognosis of a stiff poking of cock between her peg. Imagine Zynab telling you that : That you are her striver. That she owns you. No. Stop thinking that. No need to believe 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 resist ? 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 fragrance of Zynab 's sodden, swollen sex. What she would open to bring in Zynab one of her girlfriend and to own that kitty-cat. 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 pretend a pet-slave of her ? God. What would Zynab say if she knew how much she secretly lusted after her ? Perhaps she does have it away. Maybe she wants it. Maybe she wants to be owned. Maybe that 's why she submitted to wearing the skirt ? inconceivable to sit still now. So rouse. Love watching slave-whores worship Zynab 's snatch. Need to come. Need to desperately.

Look at the new girl running her spit over Zynab 's scanty at her bit. Lucky girl. She can do that and find no shame because she 's cipher more than a slave-whore. Lucky beef. Probably does n't know just how lucky she is. Impossible for 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 ?

'' salt lick my pussycat, working girl. '' Zynab grabs a clump of Francesca 's hair at her jacket and steers her nerve into her groin. Then with her free deal she pulls her panties aside, revealing her glistening sex.

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

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 requirement. 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 have her line up with the early little girl and they 'll withdraw it in turns lapping at her expensive panties and kissing her feet and thanking her for owning them. That 's what Zynab does serious. 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 button and wriggle in her seat. '' more. Eat me debauched, '' Zynab snaps. Watch her pouting, red lip. She 's the demon. She 's perfect evil.

Francesca 's flicks her natural language frantically at Zynab 's interior. This is what lifespan here will be like. This is the discernment and the feeling that will linger and swear out as a unceasing admonisher of who she is and what she has become. Every time Zynab passes, she will think the sensation and remember that she is to bow her question and spread her legs, simply because she is worth LE than the strip of material covering her schoolmarm'sex.

genus Vanessa needs to slow up down. Take deep intimation. No hurry. Zynab is n't through yet. Enjoy the show. Let it deplete you. What a dependable hatful she 's done. Francesca is submissive by nature. Not going to postulate a lot breeding. Think of the money to be made ... May even treat Zynab to another skirt.

In place of binge, Francesca 's face drip now with the juices of her new mistress. Gagging at Zynab 's sex. Gasping for air. And feeling at the construction on Zynab 's face. swaggering. Smug. Delighted with herself.

Francesca 's read/write head is wrenched back with a violent tug on her whisker. 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 nipples in her digit and winding it roughly in her finger's breadth, causing her to wince.

'' Shut up. '' Zynab slaps the same breast, then baseball swing across the other with the spinal column of her palm. Yelping like a startle puppy, Francesca cowers as far as Zynab 's grip on her hair permits.

Vanessa runs a hand over one of her own breasts and circles her nipples with the steer of her digit. electricity. Go on Zynab. slap them again. cause them. Own them.

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

Francesca does n't proceed. offer them ? How ?

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

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

Zynab slaps each breast twice. Francesca turns her brain and grits her teeth. It hurts. Not too much, but enough. Does she really have to offer up another woman her bosom ? Department of Energy she suffer to put up with this ?

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

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

Francesca continues to volunteer up her hardened teat. 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 character 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 backbone, acclivity you genu, and disperse your legs. ``

switch off. Do n't think about it. It 'll be alright. They 'll look after her and facilitate her pay her debts, wo n't they ?

She lies back, raises her human knee, spreads them as widely as she can and prise her pussy out-of-doors with her fingers. pink. Young. Fresh.

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

genus Vanessa grunts her blessing. Fresh, young, wet pussy. Could she display herself to Zynab like that ? How must that feel ? How low are these bawd ? How worthless that they give their Lester Willis Young cunt to be bought and sold like discounted center ?

'' You know how much these horseshoe cost, whore ? '' Zynab cut an ankle over Zynab 's face. `` More than you. A lot more than you. bang yourself on my pes. ``

Francesca squirm. Is every item of clothing her fancy woman is wearing worth more than she is ?

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

Francesca hates herself. She hates herself because she is pushing her clitoris into the fillet of sole of her mistress'sandals. She hates herself because she 's rubbing herself against it and becoming aroused. She hates herself because she 's ineffective to conquer her whining and her panting and her moaning. Are her mistress'shoes really worth Sir Thomas More than she is ? Do her mistress'skid really own her pussy ? Is that why she is giving her pussy so readily to their inspection and repair ? Is it still hers to grant ?

'' There 's a skillful little working girl. Shine the soles of my shoes with your twat succus. ``

Vanessa is close. She always comes after buying a new whore. Today will be no exception. She 's a prisoner of her own prestigiousness. A slave to her own seduction. She owns flesh. Their pulp. 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 be intimate that she should n't be. This ca n't happen. Not to her. Not like this. It was never like this in Rumania. She squirms and bucks and pant and groan. Her orgasm is ripe to explode within her. Raped. Sold. Humiliated. foot fucked. And yet she 's going to come ... 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 family say ?

'' seminal fluid 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 lecherousness, pity, pleasure, anguish, XTC, sadness. Now whimpering like a cub. And more tears.

genus Vanessa comes too. Ca n't reserve back. She thrusts her pelvis up and down on her own finger's breadth, tenses and arches her rachis. Try to hear the understood screeching of a fair sex in the throe of dark lust. promised land. cypher tops it. Imagine Zynab 's lips on yours. Imagine her fingers fondling your hair. Must stop thinking that. It 's dangerous.

'' Eat me again, '' Zynab snaps at Francesca. `` Give me your selfish petty cyprian face. ``

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

genus Vanessa rides her aftershocks as they ripple through her. God. Great sexual climax. Going to have to fuck Zynab soon. Ca n't baulk her much longer. Either that or else supercede her so as not to have to look at her and suffer. Maybe make her article of clothing an even brusk, tarty skirt. Yes. That 'll be fun. Push her to her limits. See how badly she wants to preserve this job. Replace her if she refuses.

Zynab flood tide violently in Francesca 's face.

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

Wait for that, then cite the doll .