A Nice Restaurant

Julia was mine. I could make her do anything sexual- from a footjob in the park to a blowjob in Times Square- and nobody would have the slightest problem with it. "Come with me," I ordered. "We're having a lunch date."
Julia looked at her discarded belongings. "Should I bring my purse?"
"No need," I said. "It's on me."
Of course, if I had my way, the food would very literally be on her.

Crepes are the best food for eating off of a woman's feet, so we went to my favorite crepe place. I ordered a strawberry chocolate crepe for myself, and a banana crepe for Julia. "One more thing," I told the waiter. "I'd like to eat off of my foot ****'s feet, so put it there instead of the whole plate rigamarole. And be sore to add in as much whipped cream as you can, all along her feet and legs."
The waiter sighed. Probably he thought the whipped cream thing was unreasonable.
While the kitchen worked, I got to know Julia a little better. She had a sense of humor and was surprisingly well read. Before becoming my foot **** she'd been a paralegal. She was single, but had a rich social life. "Know anyone who'd make a good sex ****?" I asked. As it turned out, one of her friends was a model named Kim. An asian woman with long legs and a killer ass. "What are her feet like?" I asked.
Julia blushed. "I don't really know, master. Before I became your foot ****, I didn't really pay attention to female feet. Do you wish to punish me?"
"It's not your fault," I said. To show there were no hard feelings I played with her breasts until the food came.

Julia lay on the table and my crepe was placed on her feet. Not nearly as much whipped cream as I requested. Her own food was placed on the other end so she could eat at the same time. She giggled as I cut the first slice of the crepe. I dabbed it in a pool of sauce and ate it. It was delicious, seasoned with cinnamon and nutmeg and feet. I loved how the powdered sugar paired with her toes. How the strawberry glaze mingled with the grass she had been walking on. I enjoyed the meal so much that when it was done, I licked Julia's feet clean. When I finished and paid for the meal, I asked Julia where her apartment was. "Not far," she said, telling me the address.
"Wonderful," I said. "I'll met you there. I'll take a cab, but you walk. I want your feet extra dirty for what comes next."
"Okay, Master," the barefoot naked woman said, quivering in anticipation.