Lunch at the Cafe'

“…our customers are crazy about them!” Nadja chimed. The ginger-haired baker had a habit of taste-testing her own treats, and it was evident in her bubbly figure. “So what do you think?”

Marcella swallowed the bite of cake. Her chocolate stained teeth spread in a smile. The thick slice of Black Forest gateau was only one in a long number of delicious treats she was being subjected to. Their booth was stacked with crisp white, flora painted saucers bearing half-eaten pastries.”It’s good” She said. Cynthia leveled a swift kick at her ankle. “I-I mean, I really like the spongy texture and cherry flavor” she winced.

“Oooh, I’m so glad you like it!” The stocky woman chimed. A bright grin split her freckled face “So this next one is--

“Wait!” Marcella juggled her empty mug “I would like some more coffee”. Her throat was chalky from swallowing. But the coffee made her want to pee.

A waiter dressed in a lacy black outfit and lighter apron claimed her cup cheerily. But the next dessert came first. And Nadja didn’t skip a beat.

“Our special recipe. We make it with secret ingredients”

Marcella presses her fork into the tip of the slice, cutting out a long, thinly riveted piece with a touch of icing on top. She cuts it into thirds, and raises the iced piece to her mouth. Her rose lips close around the cool silver tongs of her dessert fork. Her index finger pushes into the base of its curved head, her thumb is propped against it's smooth flatness, and her other fingers side lazily on its skinny length.

Around her, the chatter of buzzing costumers continues. Somewhere else, there is the faint clatter of dishes. Marcella's soft lips can feel every crumple in the imperfectly curled dagger as she draws the fork out of her mouth. Spindles of clear saliva connect the two for a brief moment, then they snap. The piece of chocolate falls onto her tongue, sending delectable sparks across it and warming her cheeks. She chews and swallows, sending the rivets of cake down her through in a slush of spit and strange warmth.

The warmth, electric but pleasurable, stays with her. Marcella has never had such a tasty treat; she wants more, all of it in fact. It inspires a massive need in her and, with fork in hand, dives for it eagerly. Gone is her grace, now only the need for more warmth remains. She stuffs her face with the delicious treat. Each bite sends tingling sparks through her mouth and inflames her further; more than just her cheeks to, her neck and forehead begin to burn as well.

Drops of sweat join with those dripping down her cheeks and tickle her neck. Her arms begin to grow heated as well, then her stomach and thighs. She can feel the sweat rolling down her broiling body. At some point she stops chewing, choosing instead to satisfy her growing need by gulfing down pieces whole. Her vision grows slightly unfocused and she begins to pant openly.

It is only when the cake is gone, and Marcella is still unsatisfied, that she realizes what is happening. By now it is too late, and her ecstatic member-at full mast- is rising against the padding of her panties.

“Marcella…” Cynthia’s voice fades in an out of focus “Marcella!”

Marcella snaps her head toward the woman “Y-Yeah…”. She can barely concentrate her vision. When she does, it can’t resist her caretakers heaving breasts. Their round form is barely contained by the short skirted maid dress. Marcella can feel the thin drool dribbling down her lips. Her red face reddens further.

“That’s not supposed to happen” The cafe’ owners smile had turned from across the table. Her eyes were wide in embarrassment, her hue almost as deep as her landlords “Come with me, I’ll take you to a backroom while I check the ingredients.”

Cynthia gritted her teeth and helped her ward to her feet. The poor girl stumbled into her maid as she got to her feet. The feeling of Marcella’s rise against her backside was calming. It wasn’t new, and it had an simple solution. Her step was confident; the eyes of others slid off her like water. Marcella’s was not. Walking bowlegged, she followed tightly trying to hide within her maids skirts.

Grey sacks stuffed the room, leaking grain and pre-ground floor through small holes. A thin layer of soft white powder soaked the floor. Cynthia’s steady march kicked it up as it collected on their feet. Nadja followed them in and quietly shut the door.

“I’m so sorry!” She cried, startling the maid “You were given the wrong order my lady”

Cynthia sighed “ She gets like this. Just give us sometime to catch our breath”

“The ingredient inside, it's...! ”

“Which ingredient!?” Cynthia cried, now irate. The baker wouldn’t leave them alone, and her wards erection was getting increasingly jabby from beneath her skirt. Even worse, the poor girl was probably dying from embarrassment. The sooner they were alone the better. For everyone.