Forcing herself to look once more at his ugly, twisted face she said, “I am here to serve you. I am proud to belong to you.”
“Master,” he corrected.
“My only desire is to serve my Master, Abul.”
“Was I right, Mrs. Ryan, did your confession make you hot?” He laughed, “No need to answer. We see by your n*****s and color rising to your cheeks that you honor me and that I excite you.”
“Ahh, my friend,” Narimov smiled across at Abul, “you are the man for her. This is her place.”
Zembouri withdrew his hand from between her legs. “The American b***h has made me horny,” he held his fat fingers under his nose and smelled them. “I want to f**k her ass. I have always wanted to f**k a young white American woman’s ass.” His puffy lips were wet with spittle. He stared into her eyes. “The white
