Date: Wed, 13 Dec 2017 06:32:34 +0000 (UTC)
From: JB
Subject: Foot Restaurant

Disclaimer:  This is a work of fiction by the author and written solely for
enjoyment.

Contains: Foot slavery, lesbian, food play

Foot Restaurant

The allure of the illicit and new leads elite eccentric diners around the
world to seek out underground restaurants, hidden kitchens, and
fly-by-night food experiments.  Some chefs do it to test the restaurant
waters before committing; others just like to entertain.  Some...maybe have
other motives.  Most club buzz happens by word of mouth, with access
granted via secret passwords or applications.  You never know what exists
in a city's underbelly or its underground.  Far beneath the streets and
tucked away from subway stations, New York is filled with hidden tunnels
and underground spaces not accessible to the general public that are the
stuff of legend.  You never know what lies directly beneath your feet in
NYC and one restaurant takes that to the extreme.

Legend has it that there is a restaurant, if it can even really be called
that, that satiates not only your appetite but feeds your darker appetites
and appetites of the restaurant's mysterious employees and owners.  It's
name is Feed, but many refer to it as "F" or "you know where" or etc.  I
can't tell you where it is, but It's very small and darkly lit and no one
even knows if the restaurant ever in stays in one place for too long.  It's
like a mystical hidden or lost city, it's real to some, a figment of
imagination to others.  The place has no known phone number, no
advertising, no information, it's all word of mouth (and yet they want
patrons to hardly talk about it).  Love the place but shut up about it I
guess is the idea.  You surrender your phones and your belongings at the
door (but make sure you have your drivers license) and you're kicked out if
you look at the staff the wrong way.  You don't ask questions and you only
speak when spoken to.  You learn the rules quickly or suffer the
consequences.  If you're lucky enough to even gain entrance to the
restaurant, get past the frightening bouncer staff, you are quickly and
quietly ushered in the dark to what you presume is the reservation and wait
area.  You feel cameras watching you at all times like a thousand eyes.
And your looks decide if you're allowed in and given a uninformative
membership card (which helps make it a little easier to return and get a
table).  Men are especially screened out, you have to be fit and thin and
under 40 it really seems.  Again, patrons hardly ever talk openly about the
place, you can get blacklisted, but it only takes one visit to make one
addicted to it.  It's the only restaurant that consumes you and your life.

It's the only top restaurant where you don't remember the food you ate, but
rather the food that was eaten from you.  Confused?  Well, the story goes
on.  To illustrate, consider the experience of Jenny and Lisa, ages 19.
Jenny's dad is a managing partner at Lambert & Locke in NYC and she heard
of Feed at one of daddy's social functions for the firm.  One of the
guests' wives maybe had a little too much to drink and a discussion of
Jenny's love life struggles led her to insist Jenny go to Feed.  Take a
friend and go and you and your feet will thank me someday she basically
said.  Jenny was struck by the look of wicked delight on this woman's face
as she pushed it (despite not offering many details), the woman was like
gyrating or almost dancing as she spoke, which was weird.  The tipsy woman
wrote down an address on a piece of scrap paper and put it in Jenny's hand
and told her to tear up the paper after she first attended.  She told Jenny
only the minimum on the protocol (the "two buttons") and said she didn't
want to spoil all the surprises at Feed.  She said the first time is better
when your mind is blown.  But she warned Jenny not to go if she was a
prude; Feed was for the open minded and the perverts.  The woman's last
piece of advice was: Stockings and thigh/knee highs allowed, even
encouraged, but no pantyhose.  Jenny didn't know quite what to make of
that.

Jenny was open minded sexually and so was definitely interested.  She had
bisexual experiences and fetish experiences.  She wasn't a prude and she
knew her friend Lisa wasn't either, so Jenny invited Lisa to go one night
while they were out drinking and loosened up.  Neither would say it, but
the sex-related taboo of this place excited their loins.  And the feet
aspect was also tantalizing.  The woman said this was the place to take
your feet after a long day of walking and shopping.  And so Jenny picked a
day and that's what they did.  It was October, a little cold, so Jenny wore
jeans, a sweater and her black boots.  Lisa wore jeans, a pullover, and
knee high stockings and her black flats.  The woman said Feed was like the
only high end restaurant that didn't much care about what you wore (except
for the pantyhose rule).  Their fathers were wealthy, so yea, some days
they treated themselves.  Most days though both women didn't lead expensive
lives, they were raised very well and knew money didn't go on trees and
that NYC was a city were you could lose a lot quickly if you weren't
disciplined.  Anyway, they hit up all the high end boutiques and shops and
accumulated bags upon bags of clothes and shoes and etc.  It was about 7pm
and evening and both women noticed their legs and feet were tired from
walking around all day.

"I think my feet are ready for this Feed place," Lisa said.

"Yeah, I really need to yank off these boots," Jenny responded, pleasantly
surprised by what appeared to Lisa's kinky mood at the moment.

"My feet are gross and sweaty and I want to kick off these flats, maybe
this place will massage our feet while we eat," Lisa added.

Jenny wondered if Lisa might have accidentally hit on this place's top
secret.  Simple foot massage made sense enough.

They found the mysterious little unlighted restaurant and paused out of
fear of doing it all correctly to gain a seat, but they came this far and
weren't going to be denied and so went in.  The thick 6'4 black bouncer in
his black suit gruffly eyed them up and took their stuff and told them to
have their IDs ready for the next step.  He took them some feet to the
reservation desk manned by a young woman in glasses whose face was
partially visible from the light of her computer screen.  She scanned their
IDs and told them to take a seat in the chairs nearby for a moment.  Jenny
and Lisa were too afraid to chit chat and just gave each other funny or
bemused looks.  After some minutes, the woman called them over and said
they'd be seated in a moment.  No employee so far had a nice tone in their
voice; it was like you were lucky to be in here, we don't need your money.
Very different from every other NYC restaurant.

While the place was dark, there was some comforting muted lighting of the
ceiling area that helped you see everything in the ground area enough.
Each half table faces a wall and so you sit next to your guest only, no
facing any guest.  You face the wall.  And Jenny noticed this dark area
under the table where the wall meets the floor, like a small baseball
dugout looking hole.  What the hell is that she thought.  They sat down and
Jenny put her booted foot into the dugout hole and yup, it was a dark hole.
Did humans work down there?  Come out of there?  Lisa called Jenny's
attention to the buttons on the table in front of each woman.  One on the
left said "1. Food" and the other said "2. Feed."  Jenny was perplexed, but
they were both excited enough.

Finally a server came and asked them if this was their first time and they
said yes.  She asked if they knew exactly what was going to happen and they
said did not.  The server said it was no big deal, she'd hand them helpful
sheets of paper with brief instructions when the time came to do something.
It was the first moment in this place that didn't feel so intimidating.

The menu was all pastas and macaroni, italian cuisine I guess.  Spaghetti
Carbonara, Spaghetti Bolognese, Fettuccine Alfredo, Four Cheese Macaroni
And Cheese, etc.  Pretty limted menu, but Jenny guessed that restaurants
that did that made the limited dishes they mader perfect.  Jenny ordered
the Spaghetti Carbonara and Lisa selected the Fettuccine Alfredo.

They ordered wine and talked about the day and life and their families and
upcoming holidays.  But then Lisa brought them back to why they were there
tonight.

"I don't get what the big deal is about this place," Lisa said
disappointingly.

"Yeah, where the hell is my foot massage already," Jenny responsed.

Lisa laughed.  She kept dangling her flats or slipping them off under the
table, the cool air on her moist sweaty feet in her knee high stockings.

Finally after a bit, the waitress slipped them notes which told them their
food was ready and they could press the "1. Food" buttons in front of them.

They looked at each other as they put their fingers on their respective
buttons and pressed.  Jenny wondered if this place will ever live up to
what the tipsy woman at daddy's party made it out to be.

Their food was served, but the weirdest thing then happened and it changed
the trajectory of the entire evening.  As their plates hit the table,
plates were hitting floor in front of them beneath them on the ground.
Jenny leaned back and lowered her head and saw a very large tall bowl
of...spaghetti carbonara on ground in front of her between her feet.  Same
with Lisa, except it was fettuccine alfredo.

As Jenny's jaw kinda dropped, she saw that Lisa was now looking too and
they looked at each other dumbfounded.  Finally, the waitress came over and
slipped them notes again.  They both read: Take off your shoes/boots and
socks/hosiery and PUT THEM IN THE FOOD AND ENJOY!

They were shocked and looked at each other.

"Is this for real?" Jenny said.

"I...think it is," Lisa responded.

"What, what should we do?" Jenny asked.

"Fuck it, let's do it," Lisa said, suddenly smiling.

Jenny watched as Lisa slipped out of her flats and turned and put her one
leg on her knee and slowly rolled off her beige knee high stocking and then
did the same for the other foot.  Then she looked at Jenny, wondering why
she wasn't doing the same.

"C'mon, hurry up, I have my feet on the rim of the bowl now," Lisa said.

Jenny got off her boots and moist black socks quickly enough and placed her
feet on her bowl's rim.

"Ok, I'm ready," Jenny said.

"I'm excited, I'm going for it," Lisa declared.

She put her feet on the alfredo and was struck by the hot warmth of her
soles and arches on top of it.

"Oh Jen, it feels good," Lisa said, her eyes closed.

Jenny went a different route and slowly pushed down her toes into the
carbonara (but not her whole foot).  She too was surprised and hit with the
hot warmth around her toes.

"Fuck, it does feel fucking good," Jenny responded, letting her toes wiggle
in some noodles.

Both women were determined to take it slow, they didn't want to spoil their
feet meal.  They hadn't even touched the food on top of their tables.
Didn't care about that.

Lisa then did like Jenny and pushed her toes into her alfredo some.  She
moaned and Jen noticed a little and looked over.  Lisa realized the taboo
of gross feet in food was what was hot about all this, the fact her feet
were all soft and sweaty with alfredo sauce gathering between her toes, her
sweat now mixed with the sauce.

Then the moment Lisa was waiting for: she pushed both feet deep into the
spaghetti alfredo.  And she moaned a great deal with her eyes closed as she
gripped the sides of her chair as her head and shoulders leaned over her
uneaten table food.

Jenny pushed her feet all way into the carbonara and leaned back, really
taken aback by the warmth that now enveloped her feet.  She moaned too.

"I don't think I've ever been so horny and turned on....here in a public
restaurant, my feet being massaged by pasta," Lisa said, still gripping her
chair.

"Oh I can't get over how good it feels with the spaghetti noodles caught
between my toes, just mixing this all with my feet," Jenny responded, still
leaned back but also gripping her chair.

"Yea, I love feeling the alfredo noodles hanging off my gross toes," Lisa
added.

"This is heaven, that drunk wife who told me of this place was right,"
Jenny said.

"This is how you end a day walking all over the city," Lisa said.

Jenny wiggled her toes deep in the very warm hot spaghetti and pulled out
gobs of noodles now between her toes.  She looked at her feet while doing
so and smiled.  Though a little dark, she also watched Lisa lift her feet
out with noodles between her toes and flex her toes.  It turned Jenny on
thinking of Lisa's pleasure.  She loved how Lisa's feet looked covered in
alfredo sauce, she seemed to want to lick or massage those feet.

A period of intense pleasure went on until the waitress came over and
slipped them notes again.  They both read: "Press the "2. Feed" button and
your feet will become clean."  This note was a lot less clear on what to
do/what will happen, but at that this point the girls didn't care and
pressed away.

Just when the women thought they couldn't get more wet, they each felt a
hand a grip their ankle (firmly at first, then gently) and they looked down
and saw the outline of men in the dugout-like hole holding their ankles.
Then the mysterious men slowly gently sensually started licking and sucking
the food from their feet.

Jenny was too overwhelmed to realize the "Feed" button made all too much
sense now, you feed these...workers.  The feeling of having noodles slurped
from your toes was one that Jenny and Lisa had not imagined but it was
unbelievably pleasurable.  The employees stopped holding onto the girls'
ankles the entire time as they got used to the play.  The workers took each
of their floor food bowls and put their food on long square plates so the
women could rest their feet on that and so the employees could have easier
access to their feet.

Lisa loved that her feeding employee was slipping his tongue between her
toes, trying to lick out all the sauce (and probably toejam) there.  Jenny
enjoyed that her footlicker took her all of her toes into his mouth and she
enjoyed flexing her toes inside his mouth.  After a bit, he aggressively
sucked on each toe individually and really got some suction going, which
really got Jenny hot.  Jenny didn't watch the whole time, so a lot of the
experience was her visualizing in her imagination and such visualizing only
heightened her sexual excitement.  The same with Lisa.  She really liked it
when her footlicker focused on her sauce-covered heel, he licked and sucked
and even nibbled a little.  He slid his lips along the inner edge of her
foot until locking them onto the inside of her arch, slowly extending his
tongue against her smooth flesh.  She just couldn't believe the pleasure as
she continued to writhe and sweat in her seat.

Jenny loved scooping up some pasta with her feet and having it eaten off.
But eventually their dedicated footlickers started taking rags and towels
to their feet to thoroughly clean them off.  The girls realized they'd
hardly eaten their meals and asked for them to be boxed up.  They grinned
from ear to ear as they paid their bill with a huge tip and went to Lisa's
apartment.

They'd never thought to play with each other, but they made love that night
and it changed their lives forever.  The biggest change perhaps was their
newfound obsession with Feed and foot worship and having foot slaves.  What
became of Feed?  Well, it went on to devour the normal unfreaky sex lives
of many young women (mostly) in the Big Apple.  Perhaps there other stories
to tell of this legendary ever mysterious New York haunt.