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

She looks fabulous for her thirty-two geezerhood. Hourglass figure, curves in all the right places. Well turned out in her reheel ankle boots and close black knickers. There 's something about her that tells you she 's in burster here. Perhaps it 's the way she wears her pilus : 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 books, nearly of them eastern-European and Russian. They probably expected to get chambermaid or waitress body of work. Perhaps they still think they might, one day.

rightfield now though, they work for Vanessa. They 're her girlfriend. 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 guess ? ``

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

They 're looking at Francesca.

Francesca is indeed pretty. And Pres Young. Too Pres Young to be here. Cropped blondish hair's-breadth. Hazel-brown, blinking eyes. She 's shivering. Frightened ? expression tired. Distraught. It 's been a foresighted trip.

'' Do you utter English, Francesca ? '' Vanessa asks.

'' Yes, a footling. ``

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

Was that a sob ? Is Francesca crying ?

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

Francesca nods. Definitely trying to make back tears.

'' upright girl. ``

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

'' lease off your dress, Francesca. I want to look 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 get, did n't she ? To regain a better aliveness. To try to be someone. Do n't look. Just undress. Easy.

'' Come on, girl. ``

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

'' Everything. hastiness up. ``

Francesca unclips her bra and reveals to them her medium breasts with their thick light-brown nipples. She slides her pantie down her legs and steps out of them. She 's in upright embodiment. The nub of her clitoris is visible. Did she knock off her pussy because she knew she would end up here ?

'' Beautiful, '' Vanessa sighs.

Francesca does n't bet up.

'' Turn around. ``

Francesca turns obediently. Tight picayune undersurface. 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 young. Too Danton True Young. She should at family with her kinsfolk in her village in Romania. This is no situation for a daughter her age.

'' She 's not a Virgo 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.

'' flexure over, girl. ``

Ca n't see Francesca 's boldness, but she ca n't be enjoying this. Displaying her pussy-lips to them from rump. But that 's why she 's here, is n't it ? That 's her ware. It 's what Vanessa is buying.

Vanessa gets up, prance confidently over to Francesca 's rear, places a thenar 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 thousand, '' Stenson says. `` For this quality, that is garish. ``

good. Not unaffordable.

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

Francesca still bent over before them. So this is what it feels like to be sold into sexual thralldom. To be sold to an English woman. For a distich of chiliad pounds. More money than can be imagined back in her village. So dusty. So naked. So exposed. Have they finished looking at her pussy ? Can she straighten up ? Can she put her wearing apparel back on ?

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

'' A pleasure doing business with you, as always, '' Stenson beams at her. Another trade done. Another whore sold. soft money. And he 'll be back. With another girl. Around the end of the month. Una Latina de Bolivia, perhaps, next meter. Adios. He does n't even glance at Francesca as he exits Vanessa 's part, whistling.

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

'' Do n't move girl. ``

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

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

Vanessa has said the Saami thing to more than one 100 girls. It comes effortlessly to her now, but it was n't always this easygoing. She used to feel the guiltiness and the ignominy. She used to want to stop and get out and not be involved. But over clock time she 's learned to be at peace with herself. She knows what she 's doing is n't right hand. She knows she 's as lots to blame 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 to the lowest degree if they were with her, she could make it fair to middling for them. Her girls are the favourable unity. 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 handle her fille like that. She 's helping them. surely, she can be vicious. But it 's cruel-to-be-kind. That 's evenhandedly, is n't it ? Do n't the daughter almost always end up thanking her, despite themselves ?

'' You may turn and confront 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 yobo, but fair. I know how hard it is for you girls coming over here. I want to help oneself you, but I can only assist you if you help me. We 'll play out a plan to get your debt paid off. I wo n't cheat or misdirect you. Just work hard for me and obey me. If you can pull off that, your stoppage here will pass away smoothly, painlessly and quickly. Do you realize, girl ? ``

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

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

Francesca nibbles her lower lip.

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

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

'' Every time you speak to me, you will curtsy 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 owner. You will address me as 'mistress'. ``

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

'' As far as I am touch, you are my slave. My holding. You will continue my attribute until you worked plenty to buy yourself back from me. ``

How does Francesca finger, now that she knows she is someone else 's property ? A possession. A affair. A nothing.

'' Please ... '' Francesca starts.

'' What is it ? ``

'' The man ... '' She manages between whoreson. `` 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 lone way these young woman will survive their ordeal with their psyche intact is never to pander to their doubts and uncertainness, however understandable they might be. bettor instead to make them see from the outset that they can not moderate it. If they realise they can not control it, then they wo n't experience responsible for it. If they are not responsible for for it, then they can digest it.

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

Francesca performs a small curtsey and close shave inaudibly.

'' Speak up young lady. ``

'' You, mistress. ``

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

'' You own me, mistress. ``

Delightful. She 's half-way there already. Such a sweet, submissive girl. Cute small curtsies. Need to puzzle out on her military posture, though.

Who 's that ?

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

Zynab is genus Vanessa 's assistant. She 's twenty-three. Brits, but of Pakistani descent. Stunning suddenly doll. 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 recession of her mouth and grins mischievously. `` Sorry to interrupt. Is that the new girl ? ``

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

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

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

'' Of row. Go ahead. ``

Zynab sidles up to Francesca and for a consequence they return each early 's gaze. error. How daring Francesca look her superior in the eye ? Disrespectful trivial gabardine slave-bitch. Slaves look down. At their owner 's feet. That 's how it works.

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

Vanessa bristles with delight. She adores watching Zynab call down the little girl. Because she has a sure way about her, something which Vanessa has always envied. She has the braveness to be cruel where most would hold back. And for mortal so Danton True Young, she 's not afraid to demonstrate her skanky 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 - double dares her - to look up again.

'' Look at my feet, bawd. ``

Wonderful feet. incredible bottom too, from genus Vanessa 's advantage gunpoint. Who would n't but admire Zynab 's buttocks tucked up snugly in that cute little skirt of hers. The doll that genus Vanessa insists she wears. The skirt that Zynab resisted for so yearn - because in her polish `` women do n't dress like whores. '' But Vanessa is the honcho. And this is her finish. 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 thumb and forefinger and slant her principal forwards. Then she turns to Vanessa and raises a questioning eyebrow.

Vanessa smiles. Zynab deserves a treat. She 's a in force assistant. look at her hips in that skirt. She 's an Indian Goddess. Would love to have her for a slave. To have her standing submissively, pass bowed, displaying her rich, smooth brown flesh, her bare breasts ... To cause her curtseying and saying 'mistress'and kneeling and bowing. That 's the trouble with being accustomed to having subservient, defenseless girls at your constant beck and call. You ca n't help but conceive of having every woman you meet in your service.

'' Sorry ... '' Francesca is in split. The hapless girl. She 's been forced into this. She 's an illegal in this country. She has no protagonist here. No congenator to call on to. She has to get some money from somewhere. She has to.

'' kneeling, prostitute. ``

genus Vanessa feels her arousal ontogeny. 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 enough to attain you require to submit to her, is n't it ?

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

They 're gorgeous metrical unit. perfect high-heeled sandals. perfect tense coffee-brown skin.

'' osculation my animal foot. ``

Francesca contemplates Zynab 's toes. She does n't have any selection. 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 understructure. NOW. ``

Francesca bows humbly and presses her brim to the bridge circuit of Zynab 's left groundwork. Smell her flesh. Taste it. It was never meant to be like this. It was meant to be easy. Go to the UK. Work in the sex industry for a while. shuffle money quickly.

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

'' Use your natural language. Lick my toes. ``

poor people Francesca. It 's not her flaw. She knew she would possess to do some things she would n't desire to do. That was the nature of the workplace, was n't it ? And she had even heard about the English language and their perversion and their flakey voodoo. But she never thought it would be like this. Like this ! God. Not like this.

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

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

'' I am your mistress. You will foretell me mistress. Apologise again. snog my feet and keep apologising. ``

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

It wo n't be forever, will it ? candy kiss her substructure. Accept lower status. It 's just the way affair are. Life is not always fairish. Maybe she *had* been a footling aweless ? await at Zynab 's ankles. And she has amazing wooden leg, does n't she ? No-one has long, smooth, Robert Brown legs like that back in Romania.

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

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

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

'' Shut up and thrash my toes. ``

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

Vanessa locates her own button and turns the tip of her index around it. Her mogul makes her privation to come. All these young lady. These striver. And Zynab. In her skirt. And Stenson raping Zynab. Probably raped her bum. Probably came in her face and made her suction him clean.

'' suction my invertebrate foot, lady of pleasure. I want to bed your face with my substructure. ``

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

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

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

'' aspect at my panties, whore. '' Zynab pulls up the nominal head of her skirt a little way, displaying the most astonishingly beautiful muckle that pathetic little Francesca has ever seen. 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 times. In a way, she *can* see it. Because it 's all she ever sees when she looks at Zynab. In that skirt.

perfective thighs surrounding a perfect petty pussy. Covered by perfect pantie. Soft, Edward White, delicate, hand-tailored silk. They were a natural endowment. 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 living doll. She had argued and protested against dressing the way Vanessa wanted her to. But in the end, when she saw how a great deal Vanessa was prepared to expend on her, she relented. And she remained so quiet, so passive while they measured and re-measured her sex. The space between her anus and her sex. The width of her anus when bending over.

'' My scanty are worth to a greater extent than you, whore, '' Zynab brags. `` buss them. They own you. ``

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

genus Vanessa restlessness in her seat and sighs with pleasure. Imagine kissing Zynab 's perfect pussy through the material of her pantie at her privates. No. Do n't reckon that. Only the slave do that. It 's how they know their plaza. Do n't even cerebrate about it. But suppose it though. How can one looking at Zynab and not imagine it ? Imagine being Francesca. If she had n't just been sold into sexual slavery, she might even be enjoying herself. upright 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 fork. This is how hard worker worship their owner. 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 stiff stab of hammer between her wooden leg. Imagine Zynab telling you that : That you are her striver. That she owns you. No. cease intellection that. No demand to imagine that. That 's not how it is.

'' My step-in 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 cook it that easy for Zynab ? Why do they always make it so slow for her ?

'' sniff me, whore. ``

genus Vanessa imagines that smell. The cleric fragrance of Zynab 's sodden, swollen sex. What she would hand to form Zynab one of her miss and to own that pussy. As she had sat and watched her the day they measured her for the pantie, 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 a great deal 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 skirt ? impossible to sit still now. So ruttish. Love watching slave-whores worship Zynab 's pussy. necessitate to come up. involve to desperately.

looking at at the new girl running her tongue over Zynab 's pantie at her snatch. Lucky missy. She can do that and feel no shame because she 's nothing more than a slave-whore. Lucky squawk. Probably does n't know just how golden she is. inconceivable 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 ?

'' biff my pussy, tart. '' Zynab grabs a clump of Francesca 's hair at her cap and steers her look into her groin. Then with her unfreeze hand she pulls her pantie aside, revealing her glistening sex.

'' taste sensation me. savour 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 girl are epicene. It is a prerequisite. 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 other girls and they 'll consider it in turns lapping at her expensive panty and kissing her animal foot and thanking her for owning them. That 's what Zynab does skilful. That 's what gets her off. How rosy for genus Vanessa, because that 's what gets her off, too. It 's getting her off even now, as she massages her clit and wriggle in her seat. '' More. Eat me faster, '' Zynab snaps. Watch her pouting, red rim. She 's the the Tempter. She 's perfect evil.

Francesca 's motion picture her lingua frantically at Zynab 's insides. This is what life here will be like. This is the taste and the aroma that will linger and serve as a unremitting reminder of who she is and what she has become. Every time Zynab passes, she will recall the wiz and recall that she is to bow her head and spread her legs, simply because she is worth less than the strip of material covering her schoolmarm'sex.

genus Vanessa needs to slack down. guide deep breather. No rush. Zynab is n't through yet. Enjoy the show. Let it eat up you. What a good plenty 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 rent, Francesca 's nerve drip mould now with the juices of her new mistress. Gagging at Zynab 's sex. Gasping for air. And look at the formula on Zynab 's side. Imperious. Smug. Delighted with herself.

Francesca 's headland is wrenched back with a crimson tug on her hair. Did she do something wrong ? Was n't she licking her fancy woman fast enough ? Not abstruse enough ? Not obediently enough ?

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

'' Shut up. '' Zynab slaps the same breast, then cut across the early with the back of her thenar. Yelping like a startled puppy, Francesca cowers as far as Zynab 's grip on her hair permits.

Vanessa runs a handwriting over one of her own breast and circles her teat with the summit of her fingers. Electricity. Go on Zynab. Slap them again. hold them. Own them.

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

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

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

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 schoolmarm wants ?

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

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

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

Francesca continues to pop the question 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 her thighs slightly, reaches down and crudely pulls her pussy-lips aside.

'' I ca n't see it there, harlot. '' Zynab barks. `` Lie on your back, raise you knees, and go around your legs. ``

Switch off. Do n't believe 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 knee, spreads them as widely as she can and prises her puss surface with her fingers. Pink. Young. Fresh.

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

Vanessa grunts her commendation. Fresh, young, wet pussy. Could she exhibit herself to Zynab like that ? How must that finger ? How low are these harlot ? How worthless that they give their young pussies to be bought and sold like discounted kernel ?

'' You know how a good deal these skid cost, whore ? '' Zynab golf stroke an mortise joint over Zynab 's face. `` More than you. A lot more than than you. get it on yourself on my foot. ``

Francesca wriggle. Is every detail of clothing her schoolmarm is wearing worth more than she is ?

'' Every time a node fucks this cunt, you 'll call back my skid 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 suppress her whining and her panting and her moaning. Are her schoolmarm'place really worth to a greater extent than she is ? Do her mistress'shoes really own her kitty-cat ? Is that why she is giving her pussy so readily to their service ? Is it still hers to commit ?

'' There 's a good slight whore. fall the soles of my shoe with your bitch juice. ``

Vanessa is close. She always comes after buying a new whore. Today will be no elision. She 's a prisoner of her own prestige. A slave to her own seduction. She owns flesh. Their build. All her girlfriend. 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 come about. Not to her. Not like this. It was never like this in Romania. She squirms and bucks and pants and moans. Her orgasm is right to explode within her. Raped. Sold. Humiliated. metrical unit 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 friends say if they could see her now ? What would her family say ?

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

And so Francesca comes. Clasping Zynab 's base to her sex. Hugging it there and quivering on it. Her brass contorts with lust, ruth, pleasance, anguish, go, sorrowfulness. Now whimpering like a cub. And Sir Thomas More tears.

Vanessa comes too. Ca n't keep back back. She thrusts her pelvis up and down on her own fingers, tenses and arches her back. Try to hear the still scream of a charwoman in the throes of dark lecherousness. Heaven. cipher tops it. Imagine Zynab 's lip on yours. Imagine her finger fondling your pilus. Must kibosh thought process that. It 's dangerous.

'' Eat me again, '' Zynab snaps at Francesca. `` ease up me your selfish fiddling whore facial expression. ``

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 let to have it off Zynab soon. Ca n't resist her much longer. Either that or else supersede her so as not to have to depend at her and meet. Maybe make her clothing an even shorter, tarty skirt. Yes. That 'll be fun. Push her to her limit. See how badly she wants to keep this job. Replace her if she refuses.

Zynab climaxes violently in Francesca 's face.

When she 's through, she 'll call Francesca a whore and slap her cheeks. She 'll have her lick her own whore-juice off her feet. She 'll consume 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 .