That night she goes home

Elizabeth arrived back at her house to find Jeff reading something on his laptop. She'd spent all month in her fake accent and broken English, and was finding it more difficult to turn it off once she got home. She set her bag down and walked over to him and leaned in for a welcome kiss.

Jeff kissed her back and cheekily said, "How was your day at Ms. Hastings house, Isabella?"

Elizabeth shuddered at the name, but didn't correct him. "It go ok. Madame Hastings punish me for ze lateness zis morning."

His eye brow lifted. "She did, did she? Well maybe I can make it all better." He stood up and kissed her harder. She could feel his cock, already hard, pressing up against her. She felt herself go weak and wet all at once, powerless to stop him at all.

They moved quickly over to the couch, where he bent her over for an inspection. "What have we hear? Isabella isn't wearing panties? Naughty little tramp, she is." He began rubbing at her clit just like her sister had done, eliciting a moan from Elizabeth as she struggled to hold herself upright.

"Is this an invitation? Do you want something, maid?" He positioned behind her. She could feel her maid's uniform riding up her stomach, her hair falling into her face. The tip of his cock touched her pussy, and a tiny part of her knew inside that if he fucked her right now in her current state of mind, she was going to crack completely.

"Do you want this?" He asked, the implications heavy.

She hesitated the smallest fraction of a minute. "Oui! I want zis!"

Her husband plunged into her, and she saw stars as an orgasm ripped through her mind like a tornado, shattering the last bits of Elizabeth.

Isabella cried out in lust and primal need as Jeff pounded her little French pussy. She felt her legs give way as Jeff grabbed her hips and held her up by his arms. She needed this, she needed it so bad.

"You've brrs sifh a difhusdig slut, haven't you?" Jeff asked her as he fucked her.

Some of the words didn't make sense to her, but she didn't care right now. All that mattered was his cock.

"Oui, J'suis SLUT!" she cried.

He kept pounding at her, waves of bliss and hormones washed through her mind.

"You stupid maids jsed thdsn whasu sawsnf, huh?" Jeff grunted as his cock cleaved into her mind.

A small part of her mind cried out that something was really wrong. Why did his words sound like gobbly-de-gook? And why was he being so rough with her? Jeff was usually kind, gentle.

"Ajifdlwer me, puta! sawd diosf you fesd dumb to know English? "

Her mind screamed as another orgasm raged through her. Yes, she was just a dumb maid, a stupid servante.

"Oui! Ay es joost you maid, monsieur! Fook me, S'il vous plaît, no stop!"

He didn't stop, and with each successive orgasm, felt more of the old Elizabeth Hastings McDaniels, wife and older sister to Megan Hastings, splash away into the ether. She wasn't pretending to be Isabella the french maid anymore, she'd have to pretend to be Elizabeth McDaniels.

She felt Jeff cum inside her cavity, his hot load painting the walls of her pink croissant. He crawled off of her and slapped her still reddened ass playfully. She moaned in delight and pleasure. He cleaned himself off and got dressed, leaving her to recover on the bed.

A few minutes later and she was able to find the strength to get up. Isabella removed her uniform and showered. Once she was clean, she heard Jeff from the living room, "Isabella, Jufds oifdl bna i pfdso dfs cook, ok?"

The high of their delicious fuck gone, her mind reeled. Why couldn't she understand some of the words he used? She shook her head to clear her mind, and walked into the living room with just a towel to cover her bare skin.

"I sorry Jeff, What say?" She stuttered. She hadn't meant to speak in her broken English. That was usually just for Mistress's house. "I mean, non understand, what you want?" her eyes went a little wide and she put a tanned hand over her mouth. She couldn't get rid of the thick accent.

Jeff seemed not to notice, and just repeated very slowly, "I said, I. Think. It. Is. Time. To. Cook. Dfisod. ok?"

Isabella nodded, not getting the last word, but assuming it was the evening meal. "Oh, oui, iz time pour le dîner." she blurted. Jeff sighed, "Yeah wahsatisd, jsed cook, ok? Cook food? You know?"