I loved my part time job, but I never knew it would lead to this. I was a secret restaurant critic ,and nobody knew but my husband. I had been asked to do a review of MacDougals the local Italian Restaurant. Confused branding but the food was supposed to be quite good Maybe I should have listened, though. There were rumours this local Italian restaurant had links to the mafia, but surely it was just gossip.
The evening arrived and dressed smartly in a generously cut two piece that showed my curves in the right way. My outfit finished by a classic black pair of heels. It wasn't a good evening. The restaurant was invaded by a load of drunken football fans. It ruined the evening and the staff couldn't cope, My shoes clung to a sticky. patch in the carpet as I walked to my table. The soup was some sort of slop that smelled of smelly feet. It got a bit better, after that, but I wrote an honest review, brutally honest.

A week after the review was published the phone rang and I answered, " hi"
"Hi Sarah," said a male voice, "I am phoning from MacDougal's and I would like to offer you a table for tonight. It will give you the chance to put things right. I would like you to come and experience some food with us."
"Okay," I mumbled trying to think. How had they identified me? How did they know my number?
"I will book you in for 8pm," He informed me
"Yes okay," I replied still unsure not really paying attention as he said goodbye and hung up. Could the rumours be true ? Did this restaurant have mafia connections. I told my husband Steve about the call.
"Are you sure?" he queried and then "If they were going to put out a hit on you, they probably wouldn't invite you to come for dinner, he opined. Do you want me to go with you?" he asked.
"No," I replied, "I think you are right, there can't be too much trouble."
I got changed that evening and was soon ready. I wore a red dress with dipped hem that had long been a favourite with black patterned tights and black patent court shoes. I looked in the mirror and smiled. Not bad for my age.

I arrived at the restaurant and was told by a waitress that, my table was in function room upstairs. They took my coat and asked me to sign a piece of paper saying that the food experience was free as I was about to read it, another asked me about drink and wanted to take me upstairs , so rushed did I feel I signed without reading it. Outside the room the waitress asked me to wear a blindfold so they could surprise me with the room Unsure but persuaded by her enthusiasm that this was harmless I consented. She led me into the room and guided me into a chair. As I sat down hands supported me either side and before I realised what was happening my hands were fastened to the armrest, I had a ball gag in my mouth and my knees were tied apart to the front of the chair My feet were placed in some sort of wide bucket and my feet in my shoes sank into a slimey cold gunge that seeped into my shoes and clung to my nylon tights. Its slippery wetness soaked through to my skin.
I tested my bonds but they were secure all I managed to do was to kick off my shoes so my feet sank deeper into the bucket. I sat still
"Thank you for coming Sarah.I am glad you want to help make up for the money you have cost us since your last visit," said the voice of the man who had phoned me.
We ran out of smelly feet to flavour our soup so this is a great help," he continued, "before I remove the gag you need to know that no-one will hear you if you shout and scream but it will give me a headache. I already have earache from my silent partners. When you walked in tonight you signed an application to be an unpaid intern here in food performance. Things you agreed include bondage and humiliation.".
"You bastard ," were the first two words spat from my mouth after they removed the gag, "I am not your sex toy "
"You really should read the small print. Sex isn't on the menu tonight .You are however going to be covered by gross food." he said and removed my blindfold.
"No hands from us. We can let you do it ," he said looking straight in my eyes "I can set you free and all you have to do is follow instructions. I may be able to let you have a shower and clean clothes."
"Okay," was all I could say as I looked around I could see I was in a function room strapped to a chair with a waiter and waitress on each side of me and the manager in front. The manger nodded and the others released me.."
"Stand up and stay in the bucket "he instructed, and I stood up feeling the slop around my ankles.
"Pick up a shoe and ladle the gunge over your legs and use your other hand to rub it in." he ordered and I obeyed. I could see they liked this, so I put on a show. I slowly massaged each shoe full of the sticky gross slime into my legs feeling its cold dampness progress up my legs until my whole tights were covered.
"Stoop down,." he told me. As low as you can and as I did so and the lower rear hem now in the gunge soaked up the liquid. I felt its weight as I stood up.
"Fill your tights, " was the next instruction . I used my shoe to spoon it inside the waist band. I could feel its cold wetness of the liquid run down my legs whilst the mashed potato, spaghetti etc gathered at my crotch, I massaged it into myself and saw the two waiters crotches bulge in sympathy . I felt lumps slide down inside my tights moving at random leaving my tights with a most unlikely silhouette. I followed the next instruction and covered the top of my dress on the outside. The dress felt cold wet and smelly as I stood still for the mess running down my cleavage over my belly.
"Step out of the bucket and kneel down. Put your face in it," he continued. Now your entire head and then massage it through your hair.,"
I massaged it through my hair .and then stood up my wet hair dripping down my back.
"Sit on the bucket," I was told. I sat on this one third full bucket. My ass fitted in the top but became stuck as It tapered inward. My weight forcing it on tight. I stood up and it stayed stuck to my ass.
"Is it stuck?" the manager asked and before I could tell them to fuck off, they had all started to laugh. I started to pirouette like a cat chasing its tail. I started to get dizzy, but it was still there.
"My ex Mrs has a bucket pussy but that is the first bucket ass I have seen," .joked one of the waiters
"Lie down on your front." The manager suggested. I did and gravity deposited the remaining contents on my ass. A waiter reached down and squeezed the bucket breaking the vacuum seal and coming off.
I stood coated in unpleasant messy gunge from head to toe and the manager nodded.
"Show her to the shower room," he told a waitress.
After my shower I put on the swimming costume and a waitress uniform I was shown back to the managers office.
"There's a taxi outside. You have passed the interview. Be here 8pm next Tuesday. Wear what you are wearing that will be perfect," he said dismissing me, holding open the door
"I don't work for you I replied.
"You are in the uniform you work for us," he said "my sleeping partners hate unreliable workers or maybe I should just post bucket ass woman on Youtube..
I left with a sigh unsure whether this was the job for me. Time will tell.