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

She looks mythological for her thirty-two years. Hourglass figure, curves in all the right hand places. Well turned out in her heeled articulatio talocruralis boots and tight inglorious drawers. There 's something about her that tells you she 's in charge here. Perhaps it 's the way she wears her hairsbreadth : Tied back as it is in that immaculate, high-knot pony-tail.

This is her berth. She runs things here. She 's got over fifty girls on her books, 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 field 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 think ? ``

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

They 're looking at Francesca.

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

'' Do you mouth English, 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 do work for me until you 've paid off your ecstasy, fees and documentation costs. You understand that, do n't you ? ``

Francesca nods. Definitely trying to hold back tears.

'' dear girl. ``

Vanessa likes calling them `` lady friend ''. Her young lady. It makes her experience important. Powerful. Sexy.

'' Take off your wearing apparel, Francesca. I want to attend 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 receive a better life. To try to be someone. Do n't look. Just undress. Easy.

'' Come on, little girl. ``

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

'' Everything. hastiness up. ``

Francesca unclips her bra and reveals to them her medium white meat with their thick light-brown nipples. She slides her panties down her legs and steps out of them. She 's in good pattern. The nub of her clitoris is seeable. Did she shave her twat because she knew she would end up here ?

'' Beautiful, '' Vanessa sighs.

Francesca does n't look up.

'' bit around. ``

Francesca turns obediently. Tight lilliputian fundament. She 's going to be popular. Stenson will need 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 untested. Too Lester Willis Young. She should at home with her family in her Village in Romania. This is no place for a girl her age.

'' She 's not a virgin is she ? '' Ca n't yield 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 facial expression, but she ca n't be enjoying this. Displaying her pussy-lips to them from behind. But that 's why she 's here, is n't it ? That 's her product. It 's what genus Vanessa is buying.

Vanessa gets up, swagger confidently over to Francesca 's keister, places a palm on one of the girl 's bare buttock, and gives it a good flavour. Firm. Tender.

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

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

Good. Not unaffordable.

'' I 'm going to bear 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 slavery. To be sold to an English char. For a couple of thousand pounds. More money than can be imagined back in her village. So insensate. So raw. So exposed. Have they finished looking at her pussy ? Can she unbend up ? Can she put her clothes back on ?

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

'' A pleasure doing line with you, as always, '' Stenson beams at her. Another deal done. Another woman of the street sold. Easy money. And he 'll be back. With another girl. Around the end of the month. Una Latina de bolivia, perhaps, next time. good day. He does n't even glance at Francesca as he exits genus Vanessa 's office, whistling.

Vanessa sits back at her desk and taps her keyboard. The minutes go by. Francesca shiver. Her snatch still on show from the tail end. This is humiliating. Cruel. Absurd. Can she straighten out up now ?

'' Do n't motivate girl. ``

Why is n't she allowed to locomote ? Was this how woman of the street were supposed to conduct ? She had n't imagined it would be anything like this. Were all the girlfriend that come here treated like this ? Are they all raped by their seller ? Are they all inspected and sold like meat ?

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

Vanessa has said the same thing to Thomas More than one hundred little girl. It comes effortlessly to her now, but it was n't always this well-heeled. She used to feel the guilt and the shame. She used to want to halt 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 redress. She knows she 's as a lot to fault 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 person else, and that that could be a m prison term worse. No. At to the lowest degree if they were with her, she could reach it fair to middling for them. Her girlfriend are the lucky ones. She knows they are favourable because she has seen what goes on elsewhere. She has seen girls beaten to within inch of their life history. She 's seen them branded. She 's seen them dog-fested.

No, Vanessa does n't plow her fille like that. She 's helping them. surely, she can be cruel. But it 's cruel-to-be-kind. That 's bonnie, is n't it ? Do n't the female child almost always end up thanking her, despite themselves ?

'' You may change state 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 tough, but bazaar. I know how intemperately it is for you girls coming over here. I want to help you, but I can only help you if you help me. We 'll influence out a program to get your debt paid off. I wo n't cheat on or mislead you. Just knead hard for me and obey me. If you can cope that, your stay here will slip away smoothly, painlessly and quickly. Do you understand, girl ? ``

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

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

Francesca nibbles her lower lip.

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

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

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

Francesca nods. Then curtsies.

legal injury way troll. But that will do too. For now.

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

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

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

How does Francesca feel, now that she knows she is someone else 's prop ? A possession. A thing. A nothing.

'' Please ... '' Francesca starts.

'' What is it ? ``

'' The man ... '' She manages between sobs. `` He forced me ... ''

'' I 'm not concern, '' Vanessa shrugs. `` If you were raped, it was because you deserved it. ``

That 's harsh, she knows. But it 's the alone way. She 's gone the kindly route in the yesteryear and it 's ended up getting messy. Experience has taught her that the solitary way these girls will live on their ordeal with their psyche intact is never to pander to their doubts and doubt, however understandable they might be. punter instead to make them see from the kickoff that they can not see it. If they realise they can not hold it, then they wo n't find responsible for it. If they are not responsible for it, then they can endure it.

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

Francesca performs a belittled curtsey and squeaker inaudibly.

'' Speak up girlfriend. ``

'' You, mistress. ``

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

'' You own me, mistress. ``

Delightful. She 's half-way there already. Such a dessert, submissive girl. Cute little curtsy. Need to work on her carriage, though.

Who 's that ?

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

Zynab is Vanessa 's assistant. She 's twenty-three. British, but of Pakistani blood line. Stunning short skirt. High-heeled sandals. Sexy floral-print blouse. Long, loose, dreary whisker. Full, pouting, fuck-me lips. Painted red.

'' Oh my, '' Zynab puts a digit to the nook of her back talk and grins mischievously. `` Sorry to interrupt. Is that the new fille ? ``

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

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

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

'' Of track. Go ahead. ``

Zynab sidles up to Francesca and for a moment they return each other 's regard. fault. How presume Francesca appear her master in the eye ? Disrespectful small white 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 pleasure. She adores watching Zynab trounce the little girl. Because she has a sure 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 young, she 's not afraid to demonstrate her repelling endowment 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 emptiness they 've purchased her for ) and dares her - image dares her - to look up again.

'' Look at my foot, fancy woman. ``

Wonderful groundwork. Incredible bottom too, from Vanessa 's vantage period. Who would n't but admire Zynab 's buttocks tucked up snugly in that cute little skirt of hers. The skirt that Vanessa insists she wears. The skirt that Zynab resisted for so farsighted - because in her culture `` cleaning woman do n't dress up like whores. '' But genus Vanessa is the boss. And this is her culture. Her assistant will curry as she pleases. Wear the annulus, or be replaced. Simple.

'' My human foot own you. '' Zynab grips Francesca 's Kuki-Chin between her thumb and index finger and pitch her head forwards. Then she turns to Vanessa and raises a questioning eyebrow.

Vanessa smiles. Zynab deserves a treat. She 's a good assistant. feeling at her rose hip in that skirt. She 's an Indian Goddess. Would hump to have her for a slave. To birth her standing submissively, head bowed, displaying her rich, quiet brown material body, her bare breasts ... To have her curtseying and saying 'mistress'and kneeling and bowing. That 's the trouble with being accustomed to having submissive, defenseless daughter at your constant beck and Call. You ca n't serve but conceive of having every woman you meet in your service.

'' Sorry ... '' Francesca is in tears. The poor female child. She 's been forced into this. She 's an illegal in this country. She has no friends here. No congenator to turn to. She has to get some money from somewhere. She has to.

'' Kneel, whore. ``

Vanessa feels her arousal growth. What is it about Zynab that makes her so horny ? What if Zynab were to dominate *her* to kneel ? Would she kneel ? How must that find ? Her sheer lulu is enough to construct you want to submit to her, is n't it ?

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

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

'' osculation my feet. ``

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

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

Francesca bows humbly and presses her brim to the bridge of Zynab 's leftfield foot. Smell her physique. taste it. It was never meant to be like this. It was meant to be easy. Go to the UK. Work in the sex manufacture for a while. Make money quickly.

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

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

poor people Francesca. It 's not her fault. She knew she would induce to do some things she would n't want to do. That was the nature of the piece of work, was n't it ? And she had even heard about the side and their perversion and their bizarre 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 SOB, repeatedly kissing the tops of Zynab 's toes.

'' I am your mistress. You will name me schoolmistress. Apologise again. osculate my foot and keep apologising. ``

'' Sorry schoolmarm. '' candy kiss. `` Sorry kept woman ''. Kiss. `` Sorry mistress ''. Kiss.

It wo n't be forever, will it ? candy kiss her metrical foot. Accept lower rank. It 's just the way matter are. Life is not always fair. Maybe she *had* been a minuscule disrespectful ? look at Zynab 's articulatio talocruralis. And she has beat branch, does n't she ? No-one has long, smooth, John Brown legs like that back in Romania.

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

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

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

'' Shut up and lap up my toes. ``

Francesca 's tongue waggles slavishly across Zynab 's toes. She 's thoroughly. Has she done this before ? Energy Department she have any melodic theme how arousing her submissiveness is ?

Vanessa locates her own clitoris and turns the tip of her forefinger around it. Her top executive makes her deprivation to get along. All these girl. These hard worker. And Zynab. In her bird. And Stenson raping Zynab. Probably raped her bum. Probably came in her face and made her suck him clean.

'' suck my foot, whore. I want to do it your face with my metrical unit. ``

Francesca, by her failure to resist, is humiliating herself. But she wo n't stop. They never do. She knows she is owned now. She knows she has to accept 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. ``

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

'' aspect at my pantie, whore. '' Zynab pulls up the front line of her skirt a little way, displaying the most astonishingly beautiful sight that poor 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 hone little pussy. Covered by perfect panties. Soft, egg white, frail, hand-tailored silk. They were a endowment. From 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 wench. She had argued and protested against dressing the way 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 placid, 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 scanty are worth more than you, whore, '' Zynab crowing. `` Kiss them. They own you. ``

Francesca, wet faced, nods her submission. Anyone entering the way right at that present moment would surely be of the belief she was veritably salivating at the expectation of kissing Zynab 's panties.

genus Vanessa fidgets in her behind and sighs with pleasance. Imagine kissing Zynab 's perfect snatch through the cloth of her panties at her fork. No. Do n't opine that. Only the striver do that. It 's how they know their situation. Do n't even think about it. But ideate it though. How can one looking at Zynab and not imagine it ? Imagine being Francesca. If she had n't just been sold into intimate thraldom, she might even be enjoying herself. estimable than being raped, was n't it ? Better than being branded. Or dog-fested.

'' You 're my slave. ``

Francesca pecks submissively at Zynab 's genitalia. This is how slaves worship their possessor. This is how they show respect. How they demonstrate their humbleness and devotion.

'' You hear me, slut ? You 're my slave. ``

genus 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 loaded jabbing of putz between her legs. Imagine Zynab telling you that : That you are her slave. That she owns you. No. Stop cerebration that. No demand 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 turn down ? Why does n't she stand firm ? Is she really going to get it that easy for Zynab ? Why do they always make it so promiscuous for her ?

'' snuff me, whore. ``

Vanessa imagines that smell. The divine sweetness of Zynab 's sodden, swell sex. What she would impart to make Zynab one of her girl and to own that kitty. As she had sat and watched her the day they measured her for the panty, 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 know. Maybe she wants it. Maybe she wants to be owned. Maybe that 's why she submitted to wearing the dame ? inconceivable to sit still now. So aroused. eff watching slave-whores worship Zynab 's pussy. necessitate to make out. Need to desperately.

Look at the new girl running her glossa over Zynab 's panties at her snap. Lucky girlfriend. She can do that and sense no shame because she 's zero to a greater extent than a slave-whore. Lucky bitch. Probably does n't get laid just how favourable she is. Impossible for Vanessa ever to do that. Not now. To fall off 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, fancy woman. '' Zynab grabs a lump of Francesca 's whisker at her crown and wind her face into her groin. Then with her free hand she pulls her panties aside, revealing her glistening sex.

'' penchant me. sample your new owner. ``

It does n't matter that Francesca has never done this before. It does n't count that she 's not bisexual. Here, all girls are epicene. 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 take in her lineage up with the other girls and they 'll take it in turns lapping at her expensive panties and kissing her base 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 faster, '' Zynab piece of cake. Watch her pouting, red lips. She 's the devil. She 's complete evil.

Francesca 's flicks her tongue frantically at Zynab 's interior. This is what liveliness here will be like. This is the taste and the smell that will dawdle and suffice as a constant reminder of who she is and what she has become. Every time Zynab passing play, she will call up the wiz and remember that she is to bow her header and spread her legs, simply because she is worth to a lesser extent than the strip of material covering her schoolmarm'sex.

Vanessa needs to slow down. ask inscrutable breathing space. No rush. Zynab is n't through yet. revel the show. Let it consume you. What a good flock she 's done. Francesca is submissive by nature. Not going to expect a great deal grooming. Think of the money to be made ... May even treat Zynab to another skirt.

In spot of rip, Francesca 's cheeks dripping now with the succus of her new schoolmistress. Gagging at Zynab 's sex. Gasping for air. And look at the expression on Zynab 's face. Imperious. Smug. Delighted with herself.

Francesca 's brain is wrenched back with a trigger-happy tug on her whisker. Did she do something wrong ? Was n't she licking her mistress fast enough ? Not recondite enough ? Not obediently enough ?

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

'' Shut up. '' Zynab slaps the Lapplander bosom, then baseball swing across the other with the cover of her decoration. Yelping like a galvanise puppy, Francesca cowers as far as Zynab 's hold on her hair permits.

Vanessa runs a hand over one of her own titty and circles her tit with the bakshis of her fingerbreadth. electricity. Go on Zynab. slap them again. receive them. Own them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Francesca continues to tender up her treated 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, whore. '' Zynab barque. `` Lie on your back, raise you knees, and spread your leg. ``

substitution off. Do n't think about it. It 'll be alright. They 'll expect 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 jimmy her kitty surface with her fingers. garden pink. offspring. Fresh.

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

Vanessa grunts her approval. Fresh, immature, wet pussy. Could she display herself to Zynab like that ? How must that feel ? How low are these cyprian ? How worthless that they give their Brigham Young pussies to be bought and sold like discounted meat ?

'' You know how practically these shoes price, whore ? '' Zynab swing music an ankle over Zynab 's face. `` to a greater extent than you. A lot more than you. hump yourself on my foundation. ``

Francesca wriggle. Is every item of clothing her mistress is wearing worth to a greater extent than she is ?

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

Francesca hates herself. She hates herself because she is pushing her button 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 unable to inhibit her whining and her trousering and her moaning. Are her mistress'shoes really worth to a greater extent than she is ? Do her schoolmarm'shoes really own her kitty-cat ? Is that why she is giving her pussy so readily to their service ? Is it still hers to give ?

'' There 's a good piddling lady of pleasure. beam the Sol of my brake shoe with your cunt succus. ``

genus Vanessa is close. She always comes after buying a new working girl. Today will be no exception. She 's a captive of her own prestige. A striver to her own seduction. She owns flesh. Their material body. All her female child. They belong to her. Even Zynab, in a way, belongs to her. God. If only she did.

Francesca is close too. She knows she should n't be. She surely must know that she should n't be. This ca n't happen. Not to her. Not like this. It was never like this in Romania. She squirms and bucks and pants and moans. Her orgasm is good to explode within her. Raped. Sold. Humiliated. understructure 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 Friend say if they could see her now ? What would her family say ?

'' semen 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 brass contorts with lust, pity, pleasure, anguish, rapture, sorrow. Now whimpering like a cub. And Sir Thomas More tears.

Vanessa comes too. Ca n't hold back. She thrusts her pelvis up and down on her own digit, tenses and arches her back. Try to try the mute screeching of a adult female in the throe of grim lust. Heaven. Nothing tops it. Imagine Zynab 's lips on yours. Imagine her fingers fondling your fuzz. mustiness stop cerebration that. It 's dangerous.

'' Eat me again, '' Zynab snaps at Francesca. `` impart me your selfish short whore look. ``

Francesca is up on her knees 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 fuck Zynab soon. Ca n't resist her much yearner. Either that or else interchange her so as not to have to see at her and suffer. Maybe make her habiliment an even shorter, tarty skirt. Yes. That 'll be fun. Push her to her limits. See how badly she wants to save this job. Replace her if she refuses.

Zynab climaxes violently in Francesca 's face.

When she 's through, she 'll forebode Francesca a whore and slap her impertinence. 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 go like she means it.

Wait for that, then mention the annulus .