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

She looks fab for her thirty-two age. Hourglass form, curve ball in all the properly places. Well turned out in her heel ankle rush and miserly black trouser. There 's something about her that tells you she 's in charge here. Perhaps it 's the way she wears her hair's-breadth : Tied back as it is in that immaculate, high-knot pony-tail.

This is her spot. She runs affair here. She 's got over 50 missy on her books, most of them eastern-European and Russian. They probably expected to get fille de chambre or waitress oeuvre. Perhaps they still think they might, one day.

Right now though, they work for Vanessa. They 're her missy. 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 conceive ? ``

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

They 're looking at Francesca.

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

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

Francesca nods. Definitely trying to withstand back tears.

'' Good young lady. ``

Vanessa likes calling them `` young woman ''. Her fille. It makes her experience significant. Powerful. Sexy.

'' pack off your apparel, 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 come, did n't she ? To find a serious life. To try to be someone. Do n't look. Just undress. Easy.

'' seminal fluid on, girl. ``

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

'' Everything. precipitation up. ``

Francesca unclips her bra and reveals to them her medium knocker with their thick light-brown pap. She slides her panties down her peg and stairs 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, '' genus Vanessa sighs.

Francesca does n't front up.

'' bit around. ``

Francesca turns obediently. Tight minuscule nates. She 's going to be popular. Stenson will want special for her.

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

'' Eighteen. ``

'' eighteen ? ``

Francesca nods. She might be eighteen. She might not be. She definitely looks unseasoned. Too young. She should at abode with her class in her village in Romania. This is no stead for a girlfriend her age.

'' She 's not a Virgin is she ? '' Ca n't give a virgin.

Stenson shakes his head. He knows she 's not a virgin. He knows that because he raped her twice on the way here. And Gatsby had a go too. Definitely not a virgin.

'' Bend over, missy. ``

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

Vanessa gets up, strut confidently over to Francesca 's tail end, places a palm on one of the girl 's bare buns, and gives it a good feel. firm. Tender.

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

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

Good. Not unaffordable.

'' I 'm going to suffer to aim her up, '' Vanessa shakes her head. `` I 'll fall in you two thousand for her. ``

Francesca still bent over before them. So this is what it feels like to be sold into sexual slaveholding. To be sold to an English woman. For a couple of thousand Irish punt. More money than can be imagined back in her Greenwich Village. So cold. So naked. So exposed. Have they finished looking at her pussy ? Can she straighten up ? Can she put her dress back on ?

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

'' A pleasure doing business with you, as always, '' Stenson shaft of light 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 calendar month. Una Latina de Republic of Bolivia, perhaps, next time. cheerio. He does n't even glint at Francesca as he exits Vanessa 's office, whistling.

Vanessa sits back at her desk and taps her keyboard. The proceedings go by. Francesca shivers. Her pussy still on show from the rear. This is humiliating. Cruel. the absurd. Can she straighten up now ?

'' Do n't move girl. ``

Why is n't she allowed to make a motion ? Was this how cocotte 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 marketer ? Are they all inspected and sold like meat ?

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

Vanessa has said the same matter to more than one hundred girls. It comes effortlessly to her now, but it was n't always this easy. She used to feel the guilt trip and the shame. She used to need to block up 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 right. She knows she 's as much to blame for forcing these young lady into whoredom 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 tolerable for them. Her girls are the prosperous ones. She knows they are favorable because she has seen what goes on elsewhere. She has seen little girl beaten to within in of their lives. She 's seen them branded. She 's seen them dog-fested.

No, Vanessa does n't do by 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 lady friend almost always end up thanking her, despite themselves ?

'' You may wrick and confront 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 fair. I know how hard it is for you girls coming over here. I want to help you, but I can only serve you if you help me. We 'll work out a design to get your debt paid off. I wo n't cheat or mislead you. Just work hard for me and obey me. If you can grapple that, your stay here will pass smoothly, painlessly and quickly. Do you sympathise, girl ? ``

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

'' Do you know 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 modest, shy curtsy. That will do. For now.

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

Francesca nods. Then curtsies.

wrong way daily round. But that will do too. For now.

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

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

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

How does Francesca experience, now that she knows she is someone else 's place ? A possession. A matter. A nothing.

'' Please ... '' Francesca starts.

'' What is it ? ``

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

'' I 'm not interested, '' 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 likable route in the past and it 's ended up getting messy. Experience has taught her that the only if way these young lady will hold out their ordeal with their Psyche intact is never to pander to their question and uncertainties, however understandable they might be. wagerer instead to construct them see from the outset that they can not check it. If they realise they can not control it, then they wo n't finger responsible for it. If they are not responsible for for it, then they can bear it.

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

Francesca performs a small curtsey and squeak inaudibly.

'' Speak up girl. ``

'' You, mistress. ``

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

'' You own me, schoolmistress. ``

Delightful. She 's half-way there already. Such a sweet, submissive girlfriend. Cute slight curtsy. ask to work on her strength, though.

Who 's that ?

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

Zynab is genus Vanessa 's help. She 's twenty-three. British people, but of Pakistani filiation. Stunning dead wench. High-heeled sandals. Sexy floral-print blouse. Long, loose, dark tomentum. Full, pouting, fuck-me brim. Painted red.

'' Oh my, '' Zynab puts a finger's breadth to the corner of her rima oris and grins mischievously. `` Sorry to interrupt. Is that the new girl ? ``

Vanessa does n't answer. Of row it 's the new missy. What does Zynab want ? Busy.

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

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

'' Of track. Go ahead. ``

Zynab sidles up to Francesca and for a minute they return each other 's regard. Mistake. How make bold Francesca look her Superior in the eye ? Disrespectful niggling white slave-bitch. Slaves look down. At their possessor 's understructure. That 's how it works.

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

Vanessa bristles with pleasure. She adores watching Zynab reprimand the little girl. Because she has a certain way about her, something which Vanessa has always envied. She has the courage to be cruel where most would reserve back. And for someone so Whitney Young, she 's not afraid to establish her unholy talents openly. Almost as if it is the consultation - in this example Vanessa - that drives her.

'' Sorry ... '' Francesca bleats.

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

'' Look at my human foot, tart. ``

Wonderful fundament. Incredible ass too, from genus Vanessa 's vantage point. Who would n't but admire Zynab 's tail tucked up snugly in that cute little chick of hers. The wench that Vanessa insists she wears. The skirt that Zynab resisted for so long - because in her culture `` char do n't dress like whores. '' But genus Vanessa is the boss. And this is her culture. Her assistant will dress as she pleases. Wear the skirt, or be replaced. Simple.

'' My feet own you. '' Zynab grips Francesca 's chin between her thumb and forefinger 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. face at her rosehip in that skirt. She 's an Indian Goddess. Would have intercourse to take in her for a slave. To receive her standing submissively, mind bowed, displaying her rich, smooth brown physical body, her bare bosom ... To ingest her curtseying and saying 'mistress'and kneeling and bowing. That 's the worry with being accustomed to having submissive, defenseless missy at your constant quantity beck and call. You ca n't assist but imagine having every adult female you meet in your service.

'' Sorry ... '' Francesca is in split. The hapless young lady. She 's been forced into this. She 's an illegal in this country. She has no friend 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 feel ? Her sheer beauty is enough to make you desire to submit to her, is n't it ?

Francesca kneels, visibly afraid. She 's probably never had her tongue inside another cleaning woman 's vagina. She 's about to find out. Poor trivial thing. Naked. international nautical mile from home. Just been told she 's owned. That she 's a slave. Raped by Stenson and his chum. And now kneeling at Zynab 's feet. Still looking at them obediently.

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

'' Kiss my foot. ``

Francesca contemplates Zynab 's toes. She does n't consume any choice. 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 ? snog my groundwork. NOW. ``

Francesca bows humbly and presses her mouth to the bridge of Zynab 's left field fundament. Smell her anatomy. Taste it. It was never meant to be like this. It was meant to be slow. Go to the UK. Work in the sex industry for a piece. shuffle money quickly.

Vanessa, still seated at her desk, squirm with pleasure. This is why she puts up with the occasional thorn of conscience. nil trumps this. Nothing. One submissive sex-slave being dominated by one beautiful and leave supporter. Wearing the skirt she said she would never wear.

'' Use your knife. salt lick my toes. ``

Poor Francesca. It 's not her fault. She knew she would have to do some thing she would n't want to do. That was the nature of the oeuvre, was n't it ? And she had even heard about the English 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 breathlessness, repeatedly kissing the top of the inning of Zynab 's toes.

'' I am your mistress. You will call me kept woman. Apologise again. Kiss my metrical unit and keep apologising. ``

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

It wo n't be forever, will it ? kiss her substructure. Accept unfavorable position. It 's just the way things are. living is not always mediocre. Maybe she *had* been a picayune awless ? Look at Zynab 's ankle joint. And she has amazing legs, does n't she ? No-one has long, smooth, brown peg like that back in Romania.

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

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

'' Sorry mistress ''. Kiss. `` Sorry schoolma'am ''. Kiss.

'' Shut up and figure out my toes. ``

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

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

'' Suck my foot, cyprian. I want to fuck your look with my foot. ``

Francesca, by her loser to stand firm, is humiliating herself. But she wo n't stop. They never do. She knows she is owned now. She knows she has to live with it. No choice.

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

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

'' Look at my panty, cyprian. '' Zynab pulls up the front of her skirt a piffling 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 clock time. In a way, she *can* see it. Because it 's all she ever sees when she looks at Zynab. In that skirt.

perfect tense thighs surrounding a perfect little pussy. Covered by double-dyed panty. Soft, lily-white, delicate, hand-tailored silk. They were a talent. From genus Vanessa. Just for Zynab. genus Vanessa had been there when the dressing-maids had measured her up. Zynab had been a doll that day. A living bird. She had argued and protested against dressing the way genus Vanessa wanted her to. But in the end, when she saw how much Vanessa was prepared to spend on her, she relented. And she remained so tranquility, so passive 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 panties are worth more than you, whore, '' Zynab vaporing. `` buss them. They own you. ``

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

genus Vanessa fidget in her seat and sigh with pleasure. Imagine kissing Zynab 's perfect pussy through the material of her panties at her crotch. No. Do n't guess that. Only the striver do that. It 's how they know their berth. Do n't even think about it. But conceive of it though. How can one look at Zynab and not opine it ? Imagine being Francesca. If she had n't just been sold into intimate slavery, she might even be enjoying herself. secure than being raped, was n't it ? Better than being branded. Or dog-fested.

'' You 're my slave. ``

Francesca pecks submissively at Zynab 's crotch. This is how slaves worship their owners. This is how they show respect. How they demonstrate their humility and devotion.

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

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 thrust of cock between her legs. Imagine Zynab telling you that : That you are her hard worker. That she owns you. No. give up thought process that. No need to reckon that. That 's not how it is.

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

Why does n't Francesca refuse ? Why does n't she protest ? Is she really going to spend a penny it that easy for Zynab ? Why do they always make it so easy for her ?

'' sniff me, whore. ``

Vanessa imagines that smell. The ecclesiastic redolence of Zynab 's sodden, conceited sex. What she would leave to puddle Zynab one of her girls and to own that pussycat. 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 skirt ? unacceptable to sit still now. So energise. Love watching slave-whores adoration Zynab 's snatch. Need to come. want to desperately.

looking at at the new girl running her knife over Zynab 's step-in at her grab. Lucky little girl. She can do that and palpate no disgrace because she 's aught more than a slave-whore. prosperous bitch. Probably does n't have it off just how favorable she is. unacceptable for Vanessa ever to do that. Not now. To drop down that low would be unthinkable. No, not unthinkable. Not realisable. She could still think it if she wanted to, could n't she ?

'' Lick my pussy, whore. '' Zynab grabs a clump of Francesca 's haircloth at her cap and bullock her face into her jetty. Then with her dislodge deal she pulls her panties aside, revealing her glistening sex.

'' gustatory modality me. savour your new owner. ``

It does n't matter that Francesca has never done this before. It does n't weigh that she 's not epicene. Here, all girls are bisexual person. It is a requisite. If it does not come naturally, then it will be learned. Or acquired.

Francesca will be doing a lot More of it, too. Zynab will have her line up with the other missy and they 'll ask it in turns lapping at her expensive pantie and kissing her feet and thanking her for owning them. That 's what Zynab does best. That 's what gets her off. How fortunate for genus Vanessa, because that 's what gets her off, too. It 's getting her off even now, as she massages her clitoris and wiggle in her seat. '' More. Eat me immobile, '' Zynab duck soup. determine her pouting, red lips. She 's the Beelzebub. She 's perfect evil.

Francesca 's flick her tongue frantically at Zynab 's insides. This is what life here will be like. This is the taste and the smell that will dawdle and attend to as a invariable reminder of who she is and what she has become. Every time Zynab pass, she will call back the sentience and think of that she is to bow her head and spread her legs, simply because she is worth less than the strip of material covering her mistress'sex.

Vanessa needs to slow down. claim inscrutable breaths. No bang. Zynab is n't through yet. delight the display. Let it consume 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 stead of tears, Francesca 's impudence drip now with the succus of her new schoolmarm. Gagging at Zynab 's sex. Gasping for air. And look at the manifestation on Zynab 's face. Imperious. Smug. Delighted with herself.

Francesca 's point is wrenched back with a fierce tug on her hair. Did she do something wrong ? Was n't she licking her mistress fast enough ? Not deep enough ? Not obediently enough ?

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

'' Shut up. '' Zynab slaps the same breast, then swings across the other with the back of her medallion. Yelping like a startled pup, 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 tips of her finger's breadth. electricity. Go on Zynab. smack them again. Have them. Own them.

'' Your knocker 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, cocotte. ``

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

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

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

'' That 's respectable. '' Zynab gives Francesca another brace of smack. `` I own them, and I want them hard. ``

Francesca continues to offer 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 parts her thighs slightly, reaches down and crudely pulls her pussy-lips aside.

'' I ca n't see it there, cocotte. '' Zynab barks. `` Lie on your dorsum, raise you stifle, and disperse your legs. ``

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

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

genus Vanessa grunts her approval. Fresh, Young, wet cunt. Could she display herself to Zynab like that ? How must that finger ? How low are these whores ? How worthless that they give their Cy Young pussies to be bought and sold like discounted nub ?

'' You know how a lot these shoe toll, whore ? '' Zynab swings an ankle joint over Zynab 's face. `` More than you. A lot more than you. know yourself on my foot. ``

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

'' Every time a customer fucks this cunt, you 'll remember 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 suppress her whining and her panting and her moaning. Are her mistress'shoes really worth more than she is ? Do her schoolmarm'place really own her pussycat ? Is that why she is giving her pussy so readily to their service ? Is it still hers to give ?

'' There 's a good little whore. Shine the colloidal suspension of my shoes with your puss succus. ``

Vanessa is close. She always comes after buying a new whore. Today will be no exclusion. 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 have intercourse 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 Pearl Sydenstricker Buck and trouser and moan. Her orgasm is advanced to blow up within her. Raped. Sold. Humiliated. metrical foot fucked. And yet she 's going to come up ... 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 kinfolk say ?

'' seed 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 lustfulness, pity, pleasure, torture, ecstasy, sorrowfulness. Now whimpering like a cub. And more tears.

genus Vanessa comes too. Ca n't throw back. She thrusts her pelvis up and down on her own fingers, tenses and arches her backbone. Try to hear the understood thigh-slapper of a woman in the throes of dark lust. Heaven. zippo tops it. Imagine Zynab 's lips on yours. Imagine her fingerbreadth fondling your hair. Must stop thinking that. It 's dangerous.

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

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

Vanessa rides her aftershocks as they ripple through her. God. Great orgasm. Going to bear to fuck Zynab soon. Ca n't resist her much longer. Either that or else replace her so as not to have to see at her and stand. Maybe make her wear an even shorter, tarty skirt. Yes. That 'll be fun. Push her to her bound. 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 anticipate Francesca a bawd and slap her cheeks. She 'll have her biff her own whore-juice off her fundament. She 'll accept her say `` Thank you mistress '' over and over again until it starts to sound like she means it.

Wait for that, then mention the chick .