Charlene is conflicted

Charlene tried to swear, then turned in her chair and hurled what had been some fairly expensive wine onto her carpet.

“Sacre bleu!” declared the ersatz French maid as she scurried to clean up after her mistress.

“You shunovabish!” Charlene declared, wiping her mouth. “You fushing shunovabish! How…how did you....you fushin shunova...ERRP!”

“Now Charlene, you can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy being Candy for a little while,” Dave said. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself immensely.”

“I’m gonna kill you!” she screamed, grabbing the empty wine bottle by the neck and staggering to her feet.

“Oh, you can’t kill me before dessert, Charlene!” Dave exclaimed. “And after that, there was something you had mentioned about your ass…”

"No dessert!" Charlene insisted. "You're going to… You're gonna…"

"Oh come on Charlene! You don't even know what's for dessert!" Dave said wishing. "You know you're curious. You might really like it."

Charlene was suddenly overwhelmed by curiosity, an emotion that superseded even her horror and confusion at what Dave had been doing to her.

“Wuzz for dessert?" She asked.

"Cream-filled French Tart!" Dave told her. "Doesn't the thought of that just make your mouth water?"

Charlene's mouth was watering, though she didn't know what a cream-filled French Tart tasted like. She nodded her admission.

"It's a dish prepared at the table," Dave explained. "Watching how it's made is half the fun! You just sit back down while we make it for you. You're really going to enjoy watching how it gets made."

"I'm really going to enjoy watching," Charlene agreed.

"Never mind the mess, Yvette," Dave told the maid as Charlene resumed her seat. "It's time to make dessert for your mistress."

"Oui Monsieur!" Yvette complied with a curtsy.

Dave cleared the table by pulling the tablecloth off with a clatter, then took the French maid and bent her over the table in front of his former boss. Yvette squealed and Charlene sighed, her left hand finding its way under her tiny skirt.

“You're going to really, really enjoy watching this, Charlene,” Dave said as he entered the maid. “As humiliated and helpless and disgusted as you might feel, you really, really enjoy watching me do this to Yvette. Hell, maybe the humiliation is why you enjoy it so much. It’s a reasonable explanation for your recent behavior, isn't it?”

Yvette swore in French as Dave began to pump in and out of her. Charlene watched in growing arousal and drunken confusion as she wondered if Dave was right. Had she had some kind of breakdown? Had the pressures of being in a position of power unleashed some deep desire to be humiliated? God but Yvette looked so beautiful bent over a table and fucked from behind like that. Charlene almost wished she could take her place. But watching felt so very good…

She hated herself for loving it, but she couldn't help it! Dave grinned at her and she started coming. Her moans harmonized with those of Yvette. She was so fucking beautiful! Dave had made her so fucking beautiful! It was horrible how he had changed her, how he was abusing her, and yet...and yet...another orgasm had Charlene screaming out in ecstasy.

And then Dave was grunting and thrusting as Yvette screamed French obscenities.

“Tha wuz so fussin’ awesome…” Charlene admitted. It was horrid but she so wished they had recorded it so she could watch it over and over again.

“Not as awesome as dessert itself,” Dave assured her, hefting a giggling Yvette up onto the table and aiming her posteriors toward Charlene.

“Wai-ya mizza…” Charlene objected, finally realizing what dessert consisted of.

But then she was overwhelmed by an irresistible craving.

“YUMMY!” She declared and dove into Yvette’s cunny, lapping essence of Dave up with epicurean delight and wondering why she had ever eaten anything else. Yvette squealed and squealed and squealed.

Eventually, it became depressingly clear that any more lapping would not release any more cream. She gave a few more licks just to be sure, then flopped back into her chair with a sigh. There were several flashes of light and with a few blinks Charlene realized Dave was taking pictures of her delirious, quim-smeared face.

“Dinner’s over, Charlene,” Dave said. “You know what comes next?”