You mean this bitch?

The young woman parted her lips to answer, but no word came out of her mouth. It was like a superior **** was preventing her from objecting. She looked at the recruiter and blushed.

She had not paid attention until now, but this woman was magnifiscent. Black hair tied in a bun, thin secretary-like glasses, porcelaine skin, a stern yet extremely hot expression on her face. She was dressed professionally, yet an ample cleavage offered a deep view on her massive chest. A little silver crucifix was resting between her mounds, tied to a thin chained necklace. To her own surprise, Annabelle realised she wanted to be owned by this autoritarive figure who looked down on her.

She heard the words come out of her before she could formulate them in her head: "This bitch is already yours, Mistress. Please let me serve you!"

A satisfied and slightly worrying yet thrilling smile drew itself on the woman's lips.