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The Brothel of the Sole

By Draconicon

Jethro was a rare breed in the Brothel of the Sole. As a zebra, he shouldn't have been a worker there at all, but as one of the 'throwbacks', as some of the species-purists called him, he had feet rather than hooves, and that qualified him to work there. The fact that they were rather big feet made it all the better, and had impressed his interviewer enough that a picture actually adorned one of the hallways of them being measured during his actual interview. He still chuckled every time that he walked by it.

The zebra leaned back as one of the more perverted, older staff members of the brothel licked his feet clean, wiggling his black-bottomed toes as he got comfortable. Sipping at a cup of coffee, he looked down at the brown bear that had his tongue buried between his digits.

"Enjoying yourself, man?"

"Mmm, not enough of you young men walk around with a creampie for me. Most of you guys just wipe it off and walk along."

"Not sure why. Feels better to have it licked off."

"And it's lube for the next client, too, don't forget that," the bear pointed out.

"Heh, like I could."

Of course, it was only useful if the next client wanted to have a footjob. If the next client wanted to worship your feet instead, it was something of a turn-off to be tasting someone else's spit, and it meant that you had to take a few minutes putting them under the 'Cooker' to get it off, particularly if the client wanted some sweaty feet. Jethro had yet to have a client that wanted anything else.

As the slime from his last client was dragged from between his toes and along his arch, he heard someone else walking in. He turned, his shirt dragging along his bare thighs, and lifted his coffee mug to the lioness stepping in.

"Hey, Kira."

"Jethro. Is Moe busy over there?"

"Just for a bit longer. Almost done, I think."

"Good. I'm gonna need the pig-boy for some licking, too."

"That bad?"

"Asshole pissed on my feet after he was done cumming. Not what he paid for, either."

"Oof. Sorry about that."

"Madame let me kick him in the balls. Made up for it a bit."

He nodded. Kira tended to get those that liked the whole idea of 'tribal' feet. They didn't want the rough calluses that would have come from walking on bare feet all day for years, but they did like the idea of a species that had that stereotype behind them. Or someone that just looked like one of the lionesses from one of those animated movies from yesteryear. Either way, she got a lot of the perverts that wanted to use her and mark territory. Usually, they only tried it once.

Feeling the last of the cum-slime slip from his feet, he poked the brown bear with a toe. Moe groaned, but went along with it, pulling the towel down from around his neck and wiping Jethro's feet clean. They were dried shortly after, and the foot-tapping lioness walked over as soon as the zebra vacated his seat.

"You're in a hurry."

"Madame's got a worship session lined up for me in ten minutes. They want my feet clean. COMPLETELY clean."

"Oh, boy."

"Yeah. Fucker."

"Good luck. Moe, double-time."

"Hey, the dirtier they are, the better."

"Heh, enjoy it, garbage guts," Kira said, getting as comfortable as she could.

Taking that as his cue to leave, the zebra downed his cup of coffee and walked out of the room, leaving the mug on the counter as he left the break room. The back hallways were all covered in similar flooring: thick, tiled material that was heated from below, just warm enough to keep them 'shiny', just cool enough to keep the goo from their job from sticking.

Being a proper foot whore took some work, and not just in keeping your feet from getting ugly. Pedicures were paid for by the Brothel, lotions were supplied for free every morning in the thirty minutes before you went on-shift, and everyone got an education on how to properly tend to one's assets that way. But that was just the start of it. Proper footjob techniques were required if you wanted access to some of the better-paying clients, and if you couldn't figure out how to properly control a situation with your feet when that was all that was allowed through the hole to the client, then you weren't going to get much repeat business.

Jethro had learned that quickly. His farm-boy soles, big and meaty and altogether fragrant when the client wanted, were the perfect feet for those 'boys' looking to be under a real man's soles, enduring enough to take a beating when someone had an interest in foot torture, and they were just soft, smooth, and supple enough to make great hump-feet, too. He rather liked the last one; he liked it even more when he got the chance to see the client through the camera screen on his side of things.

The zebra plodded along, his large feet thumping against the heated tiles until someone called his name from behind. He whipped around, half-dropped cock swinging around his hips - nobody bothered to wear clothes in the back half of the brothel - and he came face to face with the Madame.

The Madame was a chinchilla, and a miniature one, at that. She barely stood more than four and a half feet tall, and she looked like a miniature ball of utter rage most of the time. She never seemed calm, always seemed on the verge of flying into a fury, but despite that, she was the Madame, and the Momma, to boot. Anyone fucked with her people, she would have their heads; anyone fuck up a client without her say-so, however, and she would have yours.

"Hey, Madame. What's the matter?"

"You. YOU!"

"Yes, me. What is it?"

"Client. Now!"

"Where?"

"423. NOW!"

"I'm going, I'm going!"

She chased him down the hall, like she did everyone. Some people got a little freaked out by the short ball of fire and brimstone chasing them, particularly when she pulled out her fan and started using it as a paddle. He just found it funny, and took it in stride.

He reached room 423 two floors up, the Madame having kept pace with him the whole time, and he shut the door behind him. She harrumphed just loudly enough to be heard, and then ran off after someone else. Her barely-coherent shouting faded quickly, likely chasing a client this time. It was always 50/50 with her who was the victim of her current fury.

Chuckling, the zebra picked up the stub for the client. This one wanted -

"Well, guess that was only a matter of time."

A bit of bastinado, this time, plus other mild tortures to the sole. Some e-stim was a possibility, too, according to the sheet. From what he'd experienced before, he was pretty sure that was going to be a guarantee. Nobody put that down without eventually escalating to it.

Unlike some of the other guys, it didn't particularly bother him to be put through that. He wasn't outright keen on having his feet beaten to hell, but there were rules about it, and he knew that he was safe. Plus, the Madame had some good shit for making sure that it didn't hurt that much while you were going through it, provided you proved that you were a good enough actor to deserve it. Considering you had to sound like you were getting tortured while enduring the Madame's tiny, perfect feet giving you the best footjob of your fucking life, that was a thing.

And he was glad he'd passed it. Sitting down on the bench pressed up against the wall, he glanced at the large 'glory hole' that was built into it. Nobody on the other side just yet, so he probably had a couple of minutes before the Madame chased his client in. He grabbed a blue bottle from the wall, pouring its contents over his toes, and then along each sole before rubbing them together. He ground his toes against each other, almost threading them slightly, before all of the dark-skinned undersides of his feet were coated in the special oil. It tingled, meaning it was starting to work, reversing the signals of pain and pleasure stimuli; pleasure would hurt, pain would feel good.

Gonna need that for whatever cattle prod this guy will be packing.

Curling his toes and watching the oil dribble down his feet for a second, he shook his head and turned toward the hole. He pushed his feet through the flexible rubber, getting them situated and on display, then laid down to wait.

He didn't have to wait long. He heard the door open on the other side, followed by the crash-bang-thump of someone dropping a whole lot of toys. Jethro took a deep breath, tapping his fingers against his chest as he waited. There was always the possibility of a flogger, or a pinwheel of needle-like points, or -

ZZZZAP!

The zebra stiffed, his toes spasming and going wide even as he covered his mouth. The grunt that came free would be heard in the other room, but the client didn't have any way of seeing him. Instead, whoever it was would just assume he was groaning in pain.

The oil, however, had fed that pain into pleasure, and then sent that right up to his dick. That long, black member started rising up, and he panted from the heat-'pain' that burned through his soles from that.

Son of a bitch. You don't fucking start with -

ZZZAP!

It was one of those electric wands, he was sure of it. That second burn hit him right in the arch of his foot, and if he hadn't put that oil on, his sole would have been sporting a big black spot in a very sensitive place right then. As it stood, he hissed and squirmed, his feet flailing in a futile attempt to get away from the wand.

"Hehehe, squirm all you want, whore. I got an hour to play with these fat soles of yours. I'm going to put them in their place."

"Mmmph..."

"Yeah, you better brace yourself, bitch. I'm going to go to town on these sweaty things."

Go right ahead. You're wasting your best stuff at the start, but - mmmph!

And there was another shock. What a surprise...

The End

Summary: A foot fetish brothel? You bet your ass I'd write something silly like this. Hope you enjoy the point of view of a brothel worker here.

Tags: M/M, M/solo, Foot Fetish, Brothel, Prostitution, Feet Only, Foot Worship, Foot Torture, Zebra, Equine with Feet, Feet Not Hooves, Brown Bear, Lioness, Chinchilla, E-stim, Bondage,