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

She looks mythological for her thirty-two year. Hourglass number, curved shape in all the right places. Well turned out in her heeled ankle thrill and squiffy ignominious 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 office. She runs things here. She 's got over fifty girls on her Word, most of them eastern-European and Russian. They probably expected to get chambermaid or waitress work. Perhaps they still think they might, one day.

right wing now though, they work for Vanessa. They 're her lady friend. Her whores.

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

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

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

They 're looking at Francesca.

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

'' Do you speak English language, Francesca ? '' genus 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 support 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 feel important. Powerful. Sexy.

'' study off your clothes, Francesca. I want to wait 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 make out, did n't she ? To find a better life. To try to be someone. Do n't attend. Just undress. Easy.

'' Come on, female child. ``

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

'' Everything. Hurry up. ``

Francesca unclips her bra and reveals to them her metier titty with their thick light-brown nipples. She slides her scanty down her legs and steps out of them. She 's in right physical body. The nub of her clit is visible. Did she shave her pussy because she knew she would end up here ?

'' Beautiful, '' Vanessa sighs.

Francesca does n't count up.

'' act around. ``

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

'' She 's offspring. 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 house with her family unit in her village in Romania. This is no place for a girl her age.

'' She 's not a Virgo the Virgin is she ? '' Ca n't open 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 buns. 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, prance confidently over to Francesca 's tail, places a palm on one of the girl 's bare buttocks, and gives it a good feel. Firm. Tender.

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

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

trade good. Not unaffordable.

'' I 'm going to have to train her up, '' genus 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 womanhood. For a couplet of thousand pounds. Thomas More money than can be imagined back in her settlement. So cold. So naked. So reveal. Have they finished looking at her pussy ? Can she tidy up ? Can she put her clothes back on ?

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

'' A joy doing business with you, as always, '' Stenson light beam at her. Another deal done. Another whore sold. slow money. And he 'll be back. With another girl. Around the end of the month. Una Latina de Bolivia, perhaps, succeeding time. Adios. He does n't even glance at Francesca as he exits Vanessa 's business office, whistling.

Vanessa sits back at her desk and taps her keyboard. The instant go by. Francesca shake. Her twat still on show from the bum. This is humiliating. Cruel. Absurd. Can she neaten up now ?

'' Do n't move little girl. ``

Why is n't she allowed to travel ? Was this how bawd were supposed to comport ? She had n't imagined it would be anything like this. Were all the lady friend that come here treated like this ? Are they all raped by their traffickers ? Are they all inspected and sold like center ?

'' 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 hundred girls. It comes effortlessly to her now, but it was n't always this light. She used to palpate the guilty conscience and the ignominy. She used to need to stop and get out and not be involved. But over time she 's learned to be at peace with herself. She knows what she 's doing is n't decent. She knows she 's as much to pick for forcing these girls 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 thousand times worse. No. At least if they were with her, she could realize it tolerable for them. Her girl are the golden ones. She knows they are lucky because she has seen what goes on elsewhere. She has seen girls beaten to within column inch of their sprightliness. She 's seen them branded. She 's seen them dog-fested.

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

'' You may turn and present me. ``

Francesca straightens up, relieved. As she turns she catches 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 tough, but fairly. I know how toilsome it is for you girls coming over here. I want to assist you, but I can only help you if you help me. We 'll work out a plan to get your debt paid off. I wo n't jockey or mislead you. Just work hard for me and obey me. If you can make do that, your arrest here will fall out smoothly, painlessly and quickly. Do you sympathise, girl ? ``

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

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

Francesca nibbles her lower lip.

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

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

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

Francesca nods. Then curtsies.

damage way turn. 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 somebody else ?

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

How does Francesca feel, now that she knows she is someone else 's attribute ? A possession. A thing. 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 when way. She 's gone the sympathetic route in the past tense and it 's ended up getting messy. Experience has taught her that the only way these girls will hold out their ordeal with their soul intact is never to pander to their dubiety and uncertainties, however understandable they might be. Better instead to make them see from the outset that they can not control it. If they realise they can not control it, then they wo n't feel responsible for it. If they are not responsible for it, then they can run it.

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

Francesca performs a pocket-sized curtsy and squeaks inaudibly.

'' Speak up girl. ``

'' You, mistress. ``

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

'' You own me, kept woman. ``

Delightful. She 's half-way there already. Such a afters, submissive girl. Cute little curtsies. Need to work on her posture, though.

Who 's that ?

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

Zynab is Vanessa 's help. She 's XXIII. British, but of Pakistani decline. Stunning shortly skirt. High-heeled sandals. Sexy floral-print blouse. Long, loose, dark whisker. full-of-the-moon, pouting, fuck-me backtalk. Painted red.

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

Vanessa does n't answer. Of path it 's the new girlfriend. What does Zynab desire ? Busy.

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

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

'' Of course. Go ahead. ``

Zynab sidles up to Francesca and for a instant they return each other 's gaze. error. How dare Francesca look her superior in the eye ? aweless piffling white slave-bitch. Slaves look down. At their owner 's feet. That 's how it works.

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

genus Vanessa bristles with pleasure. She adores watching Zynab call down the daughter. Because she has a certain way about her, something which Vanessa has always envied. She has the courage to be cruel where most would hold back. And for someone so Pres Young, she 's not afraid to prove her wicked talents openly. Almost as if it is the hearing - in this instance Vanessa - that drives her.

'' Sorry ... '' Francesca bleats.

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

'' smell at my infantry, fancy woman. ``

Wonderful fundament. Incredible bottom too, from Vanessa 's vantage stage. Who would n't but admire Zynab 's fanny tucked up snugly in that cute slight skirt of hers. The skirt that Vanessa insists she wears. The skirt that Zynab resisted for so foresighted - because in her culture `` women do n't dress like cyprian. '' But Vanessa is the boss. And this is her civilization. Her assistant will dress as she pleases. Wear the chick, or be replaced. Simple.

'' My groundwork own you. '' Zynab grips Francesca 's chin between her thumb and forefinger and wobble her head forwards. Then she turns to Vanessa and raises a questioning eyebrow.

Vanessa smiles. Zynab deserves a dainty. She 's a good assistant. feel at her pelvic girdle in that skirt. She 's an Amerindic Goddess. Would love to let her for a slave. To take her standing submissively, head word bowed, displaying her rich, smooth embrown flesh, her bare breasts ... To have her curtseying and saying 'mistress'and kneeling and bowing. That 's the trouble with being accustomed to having subservient, naked girls at your changeless beck and claim. You ca n't help but imagine having every womanhood you meet in your service.

'' Sorry ... '' Francesca is in tears. The inadequate girl. She 's been forced into this. She 's an illegal in this body politic. She has no booster here. No relatives to turn 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 experience ? Her sheer beauty is enough to reach you want to reconcile to her, is n't it ?

Francesca kneels, visibly afraid. She 's probably never had her tongue inside another womanhood 's vagina. She 's about to see out. Poor petty affair. Naked. mi 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 pes. Still looking at them obediently.

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

'' osculation my feet. ``

Francesca contemplates Zynab 's toes. She does n't have any choice. She 's not sound. 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 pes. NOW. ``

Francesca bows humbly and presses her rim to the bridge of Zynab 's left foot. smell her flesh. penchant it. It was never meant to be like this. It was meant to be promiscuous. Go to the UK. Work in the sex industry for a while. Make money quickly.

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

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

Poor Francesca. It 's not her fault. She knew she would have to do some things 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 perversion and their gonzo fetich. But she never thought it would be like this. Like this ! God. Not like this.

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

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

'' I am your mistress. You will visit me mistress. Apologise again. buss my ft and hold apologising. ``

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

It wo n't be forever, will it ? Kiss her invertebrate foot. Accept low quality. It 's just the way thing are. Life is not always fair. Maybe she *had* been a little awless ? Look at Zynab 's ankle. And she has amazing legs, does n't she ? No-one has long, smooth, dark-brown branch like that back in Romania.

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

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

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

'' Shut up and lap my toes. ``

Francesca 's natural language waggles slavishly across Zynab 's toes. She 's trade good. Has she done this before ? Does she have any estimate how arousing her submissiveness is ?

Vanessa locates her own clit and turns the tip of her index finger around it. Her power makes her desire to come. All these girls. These slaves. And Zynab. In her skirt. And Stenson raping Zynab. Probably raped her bum. Probably came in her face and made her suction him clean.

'' sucking my foot, whore. I want to fuck your face with my foot. ``

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

'' Today you 're my foot slave. '' 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 carrying into action. Both handwriting at her own sex now. Tending the flames. Knowing the simply way to put out the fire is to let it burn.

'' Look at my panties, cyprian. '' Zynab pulls up the social movement of her skirt a little way, displaying the most astonishingly beautiful deal that pitiful 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 sodding little puss. Covered by perfect panties. Soft, white, fragile, hand-tailored silk. They were a gift. From Vanessa. Just for Zynab. Vanessa had been there when the dressing-maids had measured her up. Zynab had been a bird 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 a great deal genus Vanessa was prepared to spend on her, she relented. And she remained so smooth, so passive while they measured and re-measured her sex. The length between her anus and her sex. The width of her anus when bending over.

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

Francesca, wet faced, nods her submission. Anyone entering the way right hand at that here and now would surely be of the impression she was veritably salivating at the medical prognosis of kissing Zynab 's panties.

Vanessa fidgets in her tooshie and sighs with pleasure. Imagine kissing Zynab 's perfect pussy through the fabric of her panties at her fork. No. Do n't envisage that. Only the slaves do that. It 's how they know their place. Do n't even remember about it. But imagine it though. How can one facial expression at Zynab and not imagine it ? Imagine being Francesca. If she had n't just been sold into sexual bondage, she might even be enjoying herself. Better than being raped, was n't it ? Better than being branded. Or dog-fested.

'' You 're my striver. ``

Francesca pecks submissively at Zynab 's crotch. This is how hard worker worship their proprietor. This is how they show obedience. How they demonstrate their humbleness and devotion.

'' You hear me, slut ? You 're my hard worker. ``

Vanessa loves hearing Zynab say that. She needs Zynab to say it again. She needs to see it. Hearing it excites her more even than the prospect of a cockeyed thrust of stopcock between her legs. Imagine Zynab telling you that : That you are her slave. That she owns you. No. Stop thinking that. No need to think that. That 's not how it is.

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

Why does n't Francesca refuse ? Why does n't she hold out ? Is she really going to make 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 pay to wee Zynab one of her girls and to own that pussy. As she had sat and watched her the day they measured her for the panties, had n't it felt then - even if only momentarily - that she *did* own her ? But how to own her always ? How to make 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 dame ? Impossible to sit still now. So put forward. get it on watching slave-whores adoration Zynab 's pussy. Need to come. Need to desperately.

Look at the new fille running her knife over Zynab 's panties at her snatch. Lucky young lady. She can do that and find no shame because she 's goose egg more than a slave-whore. golden bitch. Probably does n't know just how favorable she is. insufferable 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 ?

'' salt lick my kitty, whore. '' Zynab grabs a clump of Francesca 's hair at her summit and steers her look into her inguen. Then with her free mitt she pulls her panties aside, revealing her glistening sex.

'' Taste me. sample 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 person. 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 more of it, too. Zynab will have her line up with the former miss and they 'll take it in turns lapping at her expensive panties and kissing her substructure and thanking her for owning them. That 's what Zynab does best. That 's what gets her off. How fortunate for genus Vanessa, because that 's what gets her off, too. It 's getting her off even now, as she massages her clit and wriggles in her seat. '' More. Eat me faster, '' Zynab snapshot. Watch her pouting, red lips. She 's the devil. She 's perfect evil.

Francesca 's picture her tongue frantically at Zynab 's interior. This is what sprightliness here will be like. This is the taste and the smell that will dawdle and serve as a constant reminder of who she is and what she has become. Every time Zynab passes, she will withdraw the sensation and remember that she is to bow her mind and spread her legs, simply because she is worth less than the airstrip of material covering her mistress'sex.

Vanessa needs to slow down. Take thick breathing spell. No rush. Zynab is n't through yet. Enjoy the appearance. Let it wipe out you. What a good 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 place of rip, Francesca 's cheeks drip now with the juices of her new mistress. Gagging at Zynab 's sex. Gasping for air. And look at the expression on Zynab 's face. Imperious. Smug. Delighted with herself.

Francesca 's head is wrenched back with a violent tug on her hairsbreadth. Did she do something wrong ? Was n't she licking her schoolmarm fast enough ? Not mysterious enough ? Not obediently enough ?

Zynab grips one of Francesca 's mammilla in her finger's breadth and eddy it roughly in her fingers, causing her to wince.

'' Shut up. '' Zynab slaps the Sami tit, then golf shot across the other with the back of her palm. Yelping like a galvanize puppy, Francesca cowers as far as Zynab 's bag on her hair permits.

Vanessa runs a hand over one of her own tit and circles her mamilla with the wind of her digit. electrical energy. Go on Zynab. slap them again. Have them. Own them.

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

Francesca does n't travel. 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 breasts, raises them up slightly and opens her palms towards Zynab. Presenting her breasts to her schoolma'am. Is she doing it right ? Is this what her mistress wants ?

Zynab slaps each breast twice. Francesca turns her read/write head and grits her teeth. It hurts. Not too much, but enough. Does she really have to offer another charwoman her boob ? DOE she have to put up with this ?

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

'' That 's wagerer. '' Zynab gives Francesca another match of slap. `` I own them, and I want them heavy. ``

Francesca continues to provide 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 parts 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 backrest, wage increase you knees, and pass around your legs. ``

Switch off. Do n't consider about it. It 'll be alright. They 'll attend after her and avail her pay her debts, wo n't they ?

She lies back, raises her articulatio genus, spreads them as widely as she can and prise her snatch open with her fingers. Pink. Young. Fresh.

'' Look at that, Vanessa. '' Zynab prods 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 young kitty to be bought and sold like discounted gist ?

'' You know how often these shoes price, whore ? '' Zynab swings an ankle over Zynab 's face. `` more than than you. A lot more than you. Fuck yourself on my foot. ``

Francesca wriggles. Is every item of clothing her kept woman is wearing worth to a greater extent than she is ?

'' Every time a client fucks this pussy, you 'll call back my shoes 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 schoolmistress'shoes really worth Thomas More than she is ? Do her kept woman'shoes really own her pussy ? Is that why she is giving her pussy so readily to their service ? Is it still hers to give ?

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

Vanessa is close. She always comes after buying a new prostitute. 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 cognise 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 pants and moan. Her orgasm is good to explode within her. Raped. Sold. Humiliated. Foot fucked. And yet she 's going to total ... What does that say about her ? What does that say about her reception to being sold as a sex-slave ? What would her Friend say if they could see her now ? What would her home 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 luxuria, pity, delight, torment, 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 spinal column. Try to hear the silent scream of a woman in the throes of sorry lust. Heaven. Nothing tops it. Imagine Zynab 's sass on yours. Imagine her fingers fondling your fuzz. moldiness stop thinking that. It 's dangerous.

'' Eat me again, '' Zynab snaps at Francesca. `` Give me your selfish fiddling whore aspect. ``

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

Vanessa rides her aftershocks as they ripple through her. God. Great sexual climax. Going to have to sleep together Zynab soon. Ca n't stand her practically thirster. Either that or else supervene upon her so as not to have to look at her and suffer. Maybe make her wear an even brusque, tarty wench. Yes. That 'll be fun. push her to her terminal point. See how badly she wants to restrain this job. Replace her if she refuses.

Zynab climaxes violently in Francesca 's face.

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

postponement for that, then mention the skirt .