Losing myself to my Sister

Losing myself to my Sister

By themaneloco


Part 1 – Confession


Hello, my name is Alison and I have a story to share. This is not an easy tale to tell. Basically it’s a situation that was beyond my control. ‘Inevitable’ so to speak and the worst part is that I knew it was going to happen. There was just no way of preventing it. It’s situations like this that are so unfair in the world. The way some girls are just born beautiful and have life easy, while others have nothing. Regardless of what people may tell you, beauty is an advantage in today’s society and even more so when the girl knows it is the case. Most people despise these arrogant young ladies, but surprisingly, I adore them.

Yes, my name is Alison Bailey, I am 21 years old and I have a confession. From as far back as I can remember I have been attracted to girls and in particular their feet. I don’t know why this is, but there is just something about a female foot that turns me on and I can’t help myself when I see one. It’s as if it is genetic. Feet have always been sexual to me, and not just any feet either. At least if it was a guy’s feet I could have adapted to my strange fetish. But, no, I had to be attracted to girls' feet. The devastating part is that I do like guys as well; I’m just addicted to a girl's pretty foot! Of course, as it’s not really socially accepted, I keep my fetish to myself, as it would be quite embarrassing if it got out. Therefore I have never actually had a girlfriend and my family does not know of my secret. I had fully intended to keep it this way by suppressing my feelings but unfortunately everything has spiralled completely out of control.

My fetish itself, well I find it difficult to explain. I just like them. The way they smell; especially after being confined to a sneaker all day. The way they look; a new pedicure always makes my @#%$ wet. The way they taste; I’d often sneaked a lick of my friends’ feet during sleepovers. It was just an addiction that as far as I knew had no cure. There were no special patches or revolutionary gum to help me get over it, and every day in school I would see girls stretching and flexing their feet. Growing up was a real struggle, as in my younger days I really had no clue why I felt so strongly about my female classmates shoes and feet. It both aroused and tormented me.

All of this would have been fine however. I could have coped and restructured my life so that I could function normally. Perhaps I could occasionally sneak a sniff of my best friend’s feet while she slept or lick her shoes whenever I visited. That would have been satisfactory, she would never know and I would feed my addiction. However, there was one problem – Tiffany.

The story of my descent revolves entirely around my younger sister Tiffany. She is 18 years of age and it is already clear that she is growing into a really beautiful woman. Her breasts are much larger than mine, even though I am almost four years older and this is quite humiliating for me as I am supposed to be the older sister. However, I am a little taller as she is quite short and whereas I have reddish hair; Tiffany is a natural blonde. I’ve always looked at her as a little spoilt brat and we aren’t really close as she always seemed so annoying when we were younger, but recently things have started to change.

We didn’t really get along due to the age difference. It may not seem that big a difference, but I can assure everyone that at that age it definitely is. She always wanted to hang out with me and my friends, but being realistic, it was never going to happen. I was far too cool to let my little sister hang around with me, plus she had her own friends anyway. I had never really had any time for her, and as far as I was concerned it was a perfect set up.

As sisters, our relationship was typical. We constantly argued as all siblings do, but it was often Tiffany that was the instigator of our bickering. She just had a way of pissing me off and she did it often, almost as if on purpose. I’d thought for some time that she despised me for being the older sister, especially when our mother would go out and leave me in charge. But, it did make sense, I was older and therefore I deserved the responsibility. She may have disliked this fact, but there was nothing that she could do about it. That was until I let her.

We did differ slightly in that Tiffany is an extrovert, where as I’m more reserved. Her clothes were always more revealing and she held a natural confidence, something which I envied but could never duplicate. This forwardness was actually a big problem for me, as she was always teasing and hooking up with the local boys. With each new guy she came home with, the more people noticed that I didn’t. I found myself more than a little jealous of her sexual experience as I was lagging some way behind. As a result, I would often be a little hard on her when our mother was out, more out of my envy than any fault on her part.

Now, coming back to more recent events, I can remember the exact moment my opinion of my sister swayed from looking at her as a child to the sexy woman that she has become. I had just returned from a hard day at work and I wanted nothing more than to crash out on the sofa. However, as I entered the living room I was greeted by the sight of Tiffany splayed out across it, sound asleep.

‘Typical’ I thought, she spends all day doing nothing and then hogs the sofa! I marched right up to her fully intent on disturbing her slumber. I saw one of the cushions that had fallen to the floor, and I thought it would be funny to hit her over the head with it. That was until I noticed her feet propped up on the arm of the chair and as my eyes trailed across her purple polished toes I felt a little flutter in my belly. I had never actually thought about Tiffany’s feet as she was my sister and it had just never occurred to me.

I tried to look away, knowing that the deep excitement within me would only lead to trouble. The feelings I felt confused me, I wanted to both look away and stare at the same time. I thought it was a safe compromise to sneak a few glances while I put my bag down, but eventually my curiosity got the better of me. Like a little kid I found myself flat out staring at my sister’s tanned feet and I felt somewhat ashamed. As I stood looking down at her bare feet I realised how perfectly formed they were and it suddenly dawned on me that I was aroused.

Many thoughts were running through my mind. I wondered what they smelt like and whether they had a strong odour. Also, her toes looked so very succulent and I was curious as to how they tasted. Oh God, what was I thinking!?! This was my little sister after all and here I was fantasising about sniffing and tasting her feet. These thoughts were wrong and I tried to shake them away, but I was really struggling while seeing the soles of her feet facing me. So, unable to control myself, I reasoned that a quick sniff wouldn’t hurt and she’d never find out anyway.

Nervously checking that she was still asleep, I quietly fell to my knees at the end of the couch and situated myself between her feet. From my position I could already tell that my sister’s feet were quite smelly and I became very excited at the prospect of sniffing them. She was a high school cheerleader and I could only imagine how sweaty her feet had got that day during practice. In her position she was lying on her front, both feet hanging over the arm of the couch, with her toes pointed towards the floor. I placed my nose about an inch from her sole and traced the curves of her arch down towards her toes, sniffing away the entire time and finding myself completely lost in the aroma.

That night I lay awake in bed, unable to sleep as I repeated the events of the day over in my mind. I knew there was no turning back now, I’d given in to temptation and now I needed more. I’d opened Pandora’s Box as it were or taken that first hit of heroin. Everyday when I’d see my little sister I’d think about that smell. There was no way to resist if her socks were waiting in the laundry basket, or her shoes were carelessly kicked off in the living room. But with all this in mind, there was one thing that I had going for me; it was still a secret.

For hours I lay there trying to make sense of it all. How could I cope with this sudden access to feet? To be honest, I was worried that I’d lose control. Readily available feet were something I wasn’t accustomed to, and I feared that I would carelessly ‘out’ myself. Serious considerations needed to be made. If I was to make this a regular thing then there was a risk of getting caught. I could just stick to her socks and shoes, but now I knew they were nothing compared to the real thing.

Well, to summarise, I made the wrong decision and events quickly spiralled out of control. My downfall began one Friday afternoon. I’d spent the day working my arse off at the telesales job I had over the summer. It was rubbish work, mainly because no one wanted to buy the stained-glassed windows, but at least I was getting a bit of cash at the end of every week. Unlike myself, while I had spent a tiring day in my cramped office, my sister had exhausted herself in a much different way. Tiffany had spent the entire day strolling around the local mall.

Like before, as I entered the living room I was greeted with the sight of my younger sister napping peacefully on the couch. I’d spent the last few weeks trying to avoid her at all costs, as I knew I would do something stupid in my new lust. I’d even managed to refrain from sniffing her socks and shoes, and I was quite proud of myself for my good behaviour.

Yet, this time I wasn’t bothered about her hogging all of the room, but rather I was pleased and excited that she was asleep. She’d kicked off her sneakers beneath the coffee table, leaving only her cute white socks upon her sweaty feet propped up invitingly on the arm of the chair. Now there was an inviting scene I just couldn’t refuse. As much as I tried to resist I knew that her feet were going to win me over.

I gazed eagerly at her slumbering form, licking my lips while I pondered where to begin. I’d always known that my sister was cute, we both were. But now I was looking at her in a different way. No longer was she a pretty girl, but rather a sexy woman, and it confused me. These feelings were wrong; I should not have been looking at my sister in this way. It all made me somewhat angry, the fact that she could control my body without even knowing it. I despised the way the scent of her feet would turn me on and make me long for her. There were so many questions; with the main one being why did her sweaty feet appeal to me so much? I could already see that it was going to be a big problem with us living in the same house.

My mother’s keys were on the table, and the faint sound of the shower upstairs led me to assume the obvious. I guessed that I had at least 10 minutes at her feet, what with the time it would take my mother to finish showering and to dry off. It would be safer to just steal a few sniffs and not get too into it, as I didn’t want my mother coming down and catching me at it. What a shock that would be for her, and I’d never hear the end of it.

Like the occasion before, I knelt at the end of the couch, placing my hands on the arm rest with her feet in between. However, unlike the previous session, this time Tiffany was asleep on her back, forcing me to stretch upwards to comfortably smell away. A sigh escaped my lips as I took that first whiff of her sweaty socks. If only she’d known how much I appreciated her shopping spree. The odour was stronger than before, and my fingers clutched the couch’s fabric as I took sniff after sniff. I even had to stifle a few moans as the fragrance was really hitting the right spots.

All of this time I’d had these incredible feet under the same roof and I hadn’t even noticed them. The possibilities were endless. Many scenarios were floating through my mind as I continued to excitedly breathe in her funky foot odour. I could smell her sneakers, sandals, and flip flops any time I wanted! She always left her shoes lying around the house. Plus there were her socks and tights, and of course the odd occasion like the one I was currently enjoying. I felt a familiar sensation between my legs as I pondered the fun ahead of me, and taking a deep breath, I spread my knees and slipped my hand beneath my skirt.

My exploration of her feet was almost frantic; my nose darted from heel to toes, arch to ankle, searching for the strongest scent. Finding a particularly sweet spot, my fingers wrapped around her foot, pressing my nose into the groove beneath her toes. It was a bold move, almost foolish, but she didn’t react and it only spurred me on. The fingers of my other hand danced over my underwear as I gently started to play with myself. Then, selfishly, I slipped my panties aside and probed away, all the while taking in the aroma of her gorgeous feet.

As I felt myself nearing climax I knew I needed more, and with my growing arousal my inhibitions soon drifted away. I glanced back, and confirming the sound of the shower was still there, I moved onwards with my secret worship. Slipping a finger into her sock, I tried to gently peel it from her foot without awakening her. The sweat made my task difficult, sticking the material snugly to her foot like an extra layer of skin. I even let out a whimper due to the frustration as my fingers slowly rolled the sock down her ankle. Meanwhile, my other hand continued rhythmically massaging my clitoris, only increasing my torment and leading me to carelessly tug at the sock.

With my nose buried beneath the toes of one foot and my hand trying in vain to remove the sock from the other, I must have looked a truly pathetic sight. Yet, I’d never felt so horny and excited in my entire life. Fuelled with complete idiocy, the kind only selfish pleasure can produce, I pulled the sock right from her foot, discarding it on the floor and going straight for the kill. A spark of electricity jolted through me as my lips touched her sole for the first time. I found her skin to be damp and pleasant tasting, as I placed a number of quick kisses along her instep.

Reaching the point of no return and unable to control myself in the slightest, I slipped my tongue on to her arch and began lapping eagerly at her foot sweat. The taste was like none other, by far the sweetest flavour imaginable. Even my sleepover adventures with my friends paled in comparison to my sister’s girl sweat. I could feel myself ready to climax as my tongue snaked between her toes, licking the sock fuzz from the crevice. Right at that moment, with my eyes closed, my hips rocking against my hand, and my @#%$ dripping all over my fingers, I heard the dreaded words:

‘W-what are you doing?’

It took a moment for me to register what I’d heard, then with my eyes still closed the blood instantly drained from my face, shortly followed by that horrible feeling when you panic, your body tingling all over and your stomach turning. The voice belonged to none other than the feet I was licking right at that moment. It had happened right at the height of my pleasure, and I nervously slipped my tongue from her toes, biting my lip desperately trying to suppress my orgasm and a lifetime of embarrassment to boot.

I opened my eyes and saw my sister staring in shock between her feet. Her blue eyes still looked sleepy, but much to my dismay she was completely awake. She sat there with confusion all over her face, her mouth dropping open at the scene before her. My body still shook momentarily as I came back down to earth, and realising my humiliating posture, I closed my legs while the couch still hid my shame. The situation was overwhelming and I didn’t have a clue what to do. I was busted big time and all because I couldn’t take my time with her feet. I had to do something, and fast.

Without thinking, I quickly leapt to my feet, wrapping my hand around her mouth and raising a finger to my lips. Straight away I was hit with the smell of my own juices, and I hoped she didn’t notice it too. I was surprised at my spontaneity, as to be honest I was trembling all over. It must have been adrenaline, as I was thinking fast and needed to keep her quiet just for the time being, so I could at least throw up an excuse. If she squealed to my mother about this I’d be in deep trouble. She’d talked about me being old enough to move out in the past, and this would be the perfect excuse to get shot of me. That meant paying rent and doing my own washing, no thanks, and on top that there would be the shame of it all. I imagined my family would disown me over a scandal of this magnitude.

“Ali, I’m confused…” my little sister mumbled between my fingers, breaking the uncomfortable silence between us. She looked so innocent with her eyes peeking out above my hand, and sensing her vulnerability I withdrew my fingers. To be fair, her reaction was understandable, it’s not everyday that you wake up and catch your sister licking your feet.

Trying to reassure her, I moved to the front of the couch, staying on my knees and taking her hands in my own. As I knelt before her I gently caressed her fingers with my thumbs, all the while looking up into her eyes and trying to think of an explanation. Even with my current act of idiocy, and the fact that we didn’t get on, we were still sisters. There was no real option other than to tell her the truth; it was pretty obvious what I was doing to her feet.

“I’m sorry Tiffany, it won’t happen again. Please don’t say anything.” I pleaded desperately. From her eyes I could tell that she was unmoved by my apology, and I seriously believed myself to be in deep trouble.

“So, you’re like…in love with my feet or something?” she asked, ignoring my plea and staring downwards intently. Her attitude was confusing and I found it unreadable. She was sort of smirking at me, but I couldn’t be sure how angry she was. There seemed to be a hint of amusement in her tone but I didn’t want to risk anything at this point. Self-preservation was the current agenda. In reaction to her words, the worst part was that it was true; my secret was now out in the open. Some people will tell you that the loss of such a burden is a relief. I can assure you it is complete devastation.

“I think I should tell mum…” She sort of trailed off and rolled her eyes up to the right as if pondering a thought, then violently brought them back to meet mine. The aggression in her glance startled me and I felt my temperature rising as her lips curled evilly.

We both knew what had just happened and I felt a part of me both die and ignite. I could tell by the way she had trailed off, and then that look. Oh, that look. I was doomed. It was a knowing acknowledgment of superiority, one that I had imagined on many a woman, but never her. I could see the cogs turning in her head as she considered the opportunity I had just stupidly presented to her.

I’d pictured this situation over and over in my head. I knew I’d eventually get caught at a girl’s feet; my addiction was far too strong. But I’d always predicted one of my gorgeous friends discovering me, often with the fairy tale ending of them letting me secretly worship them. This however was my worst nightmare. Of all the people in my life, I had let my bratty little sister capture me. I had pretty much given her the upper hand and guaranteed myself to doing whatever she wanted. If I didn’t appease her, she would reveal my secret to everyone.

I guessed that the situation was more like a dream come true for Tiffany. She’d always wanted to be the one in charge and this recent turn of events had given her the perfect opportunity to take it. I knew there was no way that she would let this chance slip by, not that I wanted her to anyway. She finally had me right where she wanted, down at her feet and I only had myself to blame. It was all quite tense, as my fate lay in her hands. It seemed the only way out of this was to put myself at her mercy.

“Please don’t tell mum Tiffany.” I almost whined up at her. She pulled her hands from my own, bringing them up and crossing her arms at her chest. Her feet rolled up onto her heels momentarily, and then she bounced her toes on the floor a few times, rocking her soles up and down. There was no doubting it now, she was amused and I was baffled by how I should respond. Her feet drummed the floor impatiently as she looked on expectantly, waiting for me to act.

In a mark of desperation, I crouched down and placed a quick peck on each of her feet, lingering slightly longer on the bare one. I acted as if I was showing her my subservience, but I also had my own selfish reasons for kissing her feet. They really were pretty. The smell was intoxicating, and I peeked up from the floor to see if she was happy with my display. Her face was confusing to read, she still seemed a little freaked out, but I had a deep feeling within that she was secretly enjoying it.

“I’ll do anything if you don’t tell mum” I said trying to gain her silence, before placing a series of quick affectionate kisses all over her feet, looking up at her occasionally. My body shook all over as I realised I may really be in trouble. Any sign of approval at all from her would have been enough to temporarily reassure me, but she wasn’t giving me any positive signals.

I must have been a truly pathetic sight to her. Here I was grovelling at the feet of my 18 year old sister, begging her not to tell on me. It was like being infants again, as if I’d just broken our mother’s favourite vase. I suspected Tiffany was revelling in my humiliation, even though she was showing no clear sign of it. Her only movement was to occasionally rotate her feet, allowing me to plant kisses all over as she looked on curiously.

“Bring me your pink strappy heels!” she suddenly snapped, lightly kicking my face away from her. I had just started to really get into the kissing, so the kick was quite unexpected. As a result it took me a moment to register her words and once I finally did I was unable to hide my reaction.

My mouth hung open, surprised at the sheer audacity of her request. Of all the things that I was expecting her to say, I hadn’t considered anything like that. I assumed she’d scream for our mother or call me a pervert, but this was something else. It was a sign of things to come, mainly her intention to use my fetish against me.

She knew that those heels were out of bounds. Many times in the past she had asked to borrow them, and my answer had always been the same, ‘No’. They were my treasured pair, I’d worn them to my senior prom and they held so many memories. Tiffany knew that I would never willingly give them to her, but now things were different. She was holding all of the cards and I came to realise just how silly I had been. There was no way I could tell her what to do anymore, but still, I didn’t want to give in to her demand so easily.

“You said you’d do anything, prove it.” She added, obviously understanding my hesitance. Her gaze was piercing, making me feel more than a little intimidated. I felt my lip quiver with anger, but deep down inside I knew that there was no way of changing her mind. Still, it was worth a try, even if it was unlikely.

“You know you’re not allowed to wear those heels, they’re special.” I countered, trying to sound as serious as possible, but failing miserably.

“I’m going out with Josh tonight, and I want to wear them. You said anything, that’s what I want. It’s either that or I tell mum.” She was quietly smug with her ultimatum. She did have a point, I had said anything, but that wasn’t what bothered me. It was the fact that she didn’t seem at all uneasy with what had occurred. I could not understand how comfortable she appeared with the idea of me lusting after her feet, and particularly the ease with which she used it to gain the upper hand.

“Fine” I sighed, exhaling heavily while giving in to her demand. She could have the heels. If it was a choice between her taking the heels and telling mum, there was no question which I’d prefer.

I slumped off to my bedroom to collect my favourite pair of shoes. My shoulders hung in defeat as I dragged myself up the stairs. All the while I scowled to myself, angry that I had been so stupid. I entered my room and looked down at the heels. I always kept them near the door, as if teasing my sister. She could see them whenever she passed, but she knew they were out of bounds. I thought it was funny to dangle them in front of her without ever letting her wear them. They were the most expensive pair I had, costing far more than all of her pairs put together. I sighed as I took them in my hands, thinking of the wonderful times we’d spent together as I made my way back to my sister. Her grin as I entered the living room was provoking to say the least, and I wanted to slap her so badly.

“Put them on me.” She teased, causing me to grimace then reluctantly kneel at her feet. I tried to avoid looking at her face as she made no attempt to hide her joy at my obedience. She must have removed her sock while I was upstairs, as it lay on the floor next to her sneakers.

Gently cradling her foot in my palm, I slipped the heel over her toes all the while marvelling at the contrast of pink straps and tanned skin. She teasingly wiggled her toes as they came to rest against the leather, wafting her sweet fragrance in my direction. It was useless trying to hide my arousal, so I crouched before her and openly inhaled her sweet scent. However, Tiffany was unwilling to allow me the pleasure of sniffing her delightful peds. Obviously, due to her excitement, she kicked me away then jumped to her feet, standing proud in her new heels.

The shoes were definitely cute on her, and she twirled on the spot to display so. Her feet came to rest side by side, and I gazed up her tanned legs beneath her skirt, catching an eyeful of her panties. She must have noticed my perversion, as she gave a jokingly stern look, raising her eyebrow and crossing her arms. I blushed in response, but allowed my eyes to linger for a few seconds, before dropping obediently to the floor in defeat.

Almost randomly, I leant forward and placed a soft kiss on each of her feet, deciding that a deep smooch on both big toenails was more appropriate than a quick peck. I don’t know why I felt it necessary to do so without being prompted, but it just seemed the right thing to do. I’d masturbated to similar scenes in the past, and now that I was living one for real I was finding it very difficult to hide my submissive tendencies. Tiffany seemed more than pleased at my gesture, her mood obvious by the excited laugh she let out.

“This is so weird, I don’t really understand what’s up with you, but I like it. I need some time to think things over. I guess we’ll talk later. ” She muttered to herself while looking down at my favourite heels. She seemed to be in a daydream, more than likely pondering the new power that I’d given her. If it wasn’t for the light pat on my head as she passed me by, I would have thought she was completely ignoring me.

As she excitedly strode up the stairs I kicked myself for being such an idiot. There was no point in trying to kid myself; I knew I was in deep @#%$. She’d already got me to hand over my heels, something that I’d refused to do for many years. Yet, less than 5 minutes after discovering my fetish she was wearing them out to a date. I felt a lingering in my stomach, something which I’d never felt before; dread.

It was about midnight when I heard a car pull up outside. I’d been dozing while watching the television when I heard her stumble in. I’d spent the night thinking things over, trying to delude myself with the possibility of things going back to normal. As far as I could tell there was no realistic way out, other than to tell my mother before Tiffany did. Of course, that just wasn’t an option, and the problem was that Tiffany would know it too.

I arose from my seat after a few minutes as she still hadn’t come in to the living room. Whatever she was doing in the hallway was making a right racket and I was worried that she might wake our mother. I quickly opened the door, luckily just in time to catch her as she fell towards me. She was obviously drunk, and mum would go through the roof if she caught her. Right then a wicked thought crossed my mind; perhaps I could get some leverage and threaten to tell on her. It would be a little agreement; I wouldn’t tell about her drinking in exchange for her keeping silent about our earlier incident. It seemed like a good plan, and I decided to play it cool, before springing my deal on her when she least expected it.

“My god Tiffany, you’re wasted.” I gasped in mock surprise.

“Shhhhhhhhh don’t tell” she giggled, hanging her head back over my arm. Her breath stank of alcohol and from her narrowing eyelids I could tell she was close to passing out. That wasn’t necessarily a good thing; from my many nights out I knew that she was at the stage where inhibitions were completely gone. Her body was close to limp in my arms, and staggering together we headed for the couch before she collapsed.

Once she was seated I slipped to my knees and started to remove my heels from her feet. I figured that this was the best time to take them from her, while she was almost incapacitated. The straps had left indentations in her fragile skin, which to me was very cute. They must have also been sore as she moaned when my fingers unclasped the miniature buckle. The date had been hard on her feet, her soles were covered in perspiration and the odour was truly riveting. Her skin was almost flattened at the points where it made contact with the heels, and I briefly massaged her soles to ease her aches.

It was through either my naivety or a strong desire to get my heels back that I failed to consider how Tiffany would perceive my actions. I had simply wanted my heels back, though she must have interpreted it differently. All became obvious when she raised her foot and traced the edge of my ear with her toe.

“I’ve been dancing…alllll night. My feet must stiiiink...they must be so…sweaty! You want to smell them?” she said as her toe tickled my ear, causing me to shudder in response.

“Please don’t.” I whined, brushing her foot away from my face. I wanted to get her to bed without any foot action, as I knew once I started I would probably embarrass myself further. Tiffany was not so understanding of my plight (but why would she be) and her foot darted back to my mouth for a second bout of baiting.

“I know you want them.” She cooed, forcing me to flinch while she teased my lips with her toe. She was right, I really did, but I still had the tiniest shred of dignity that I wanted to keep. Her eyes were almost closed as she watched me, and with her head resting to one side she looked almost peaceful. I tried my best to restrain myself, knowing if I gave in there would definitely be no going back.

However, the whole situation was really turning me on. It was somehow erotic to me, the fact that it was my own sister that was the object of my affection. It was wrong, very wrong! But this only added to my lust, I just wanted her feet so bad. I longed to sniff and lick them, maybe massage them after a hard day of her lazing around the house. I wanted nothing more than to come home from my job and peel her socks off after she’d spent hours shopping at the mall, so I could soothe her tired feet. In all honesty, I wanted Tiffany to take charge. I needed it so much. It was so unfair, yet so very sexy.

“Lie down on the floor….like…so I can use you as my stool…footrest.” She said in a relaxed, yet assertive tone. I was a bit taken aback by her request as I was just about to take the heels and leave, thinking she was almost asleep. As a result I hesitated in complying with her wishes, which was probably a mistake. Our mother tended to go to bed quite early during the week, as she had the morning shift at work. There was no danger of us being disturbed if we were quiet, but that wasn’t the problem, I was a bit worried where it may lead. The alcohol had made her bolder and I already knew that there would be no deal between us. She wasn’t best pleased with my lack of action, and letting out a huff she screwed up her face like the spoilt brat she was.

“Ah ah ah Ali, you’re going…to have to try a looooot harder if this is…umm…going to work outttt…” she paused for effect, or maybe it was the hiccup that popped out of her throat “urgh…you don’t want me to…to tell mum do you?” she said.

From my point of view, she wouldn’t need to. Our mother would be down the stairs at any moment if she kept talking so loudly, and all would become clear as she caught Tiffany using my face as her foot wipe. I honestly didn’t know how to react.

“I’m waiting Ali Cat.” she chuckled, giggling at her own immature joke. Her voice was far too loud, a consequence of the alcohol I imagined, and I was sure my mother would wake up. That was something I definitely did not want.

Feeling there was no alternative; I lay down on my back and slid towards the couch, situating myself between her hovering feet. My heart was beating at an increased rhythm, a tribute to the thoughts rushing through my head. This was my ultimate act of submission, placing myself as a piece of furniture for her to use. There was a chance that she wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning, but if she did, I’d firmly cemented my place in the house.

Moments later the soft soles of her feet came to rest upon my face. It was a match made in heaven, the way her toes sat snugly on my chin with her heels pressed into my forehead. I could feel the dampness of her soles on my cheeks, and I sighed at her toes as they wiggled elatedly above my mouth. Surprisingly, she was gentle with the pressure upon my face as I had expected her to be violent and degrading. However, she seemed to be using my nose to massage her feet, rather than to hurt me. This was an obvious sign of things to come; everything would be for Tiffany’s pleasure.

“If you like my feet so much then….ummm…everyday I want you on the…here… waiting, so you can take off my shoes and rest my feet on your face. I bet you’ll like that wont you missyyy. Smelly feet for Ali. Hehehe.” The words seemed to roll off her tongue as if the request was a completely normal one.

Her toes flexed over my nose, fighting to cover it as she clapped her hands in glee at my humiliation. I caught sight of her between her toes at certain points, and her face was reassuring. She looked like a kid with a new toy, having so much fun and I felt that was a good sign. I just lay there throughout, figuring that it was better to just do as she wished. Not that I wasn’t enjoying it either, her feet really did smell great, especially after her night out. I just felt it was less embarrassing for her to initiate things. She constantly urged me to sniff and would grind her soles down, mashing my face whenever she felt me stop.

Eventually her scent, and the overall situation got the better of me and I began placing soft kisses on her soles. The giggle in response from her told me that she was pleased, though she occasionally pulled her feet away from my lips. I knew she was torturing me, as her toes would tickle my chin, and then quickly pull away when I reacted. She was testing me, trying to see how far she could push me and I made no attempt to save myself.

“I can’t believe you like this…” she said in awe of my devotion, making me feel slightly uneasy, yet never ceasing in her teasing. Her big toe slipped between my lips, forcing me to suck in response as she peered down curiously. Cutely, her other toes spread out while she bobbed the big one in and out for a few seconds. The taste was glorious, and I couldn’t hide my disappointment when she finally withdrew it and wiped it dry on my shirt. In a final act of torture, she circled her toe above my mouth, moving it around as my tongue greedily chased. Growing in frustration I raised my head in a final attempt to taste her foot again, only for her to push me down with her toes upon my forehead.

“Well, that was fun. But I’m tired. We’ll talk about this more later. But I think you understand what this means right?” she said, seemingly sobering up. Her query was needless, and I suspected her of provoking me for the sake of it.

Seemingly happy with the frustration she’d built up in me; she gave my nose a final tap with her toe and then stood to leave. My eyes followed her soles as they padded across the carpet, bringing the night to an end as she tip-toed off to bed.

I sat up against the couch and leant my head back on the cushion. There I remained for 15 minutes, eyes closed and brimming with excitement. With my face smelling of her feet and my @#%$ begging for more; I understood perfectly what it all meant.

That next day I got through very little at work. Not that it made much of a difference; I didn’t sell many windows on a good day. I found myself distracted, thinking about her words the previous evening. It had been a long time fantasy of mine for a girl to use my face as a footrest, but I cringed while thinking of Tiffany as the girl I was servicing. It had progressed far too fast for my liking and I was scared with what she would make me do. Only the day before, my fetish was a secret, but with it out in the open, who knew where things would lead.

Even though my secrets were definitely out in the open, I was still unsure of Tiffany’s intent. It may have just been the alcohol the night before, and she actually might not be as into it as I detected. If she wasn’t, there would be positive and negative repercussions. I hoped that if she wasn’t interested then she would just forget about it, but realistically that wasn’t an option. This was my sister I was talking about, and she’d do anything to get me in trouble. I couldn’t see her wasting such an opportunity to gain control over me.

I was very nervous upon arriving home that evening, so it was a welcome relief to see my mother sat in the living room along with Tiffany. I assumed that she wouldn’t expect me to act as her footrest in front of our own mum, and when she failed to acknowledge my arrival I felt at ease.

I set my bag down on the floor and collapsed exhausted into the spare armchair. They both seemed pretty engrossed in the television, and neither appeared to be interested in how my day had been. I was more than content with being ignored; at least it gave me a chance to relax. Opposite my lazing self, Tiffany was sat with her legs tucked beneath her, still wearing her cheerleading uniform from practice. On the floor were her sneakers, but with the way she was sitting it was impossible to tell if she still had her socks on.

I settled into watching the mindless show that held their attention and tried to keep my thoughts away from my sister. It didn’t help that it was a load of rubbish on the box, and my mind soon wandered to her. I tried to be discreet in my glances, but I wanted her feet right then and there. Her hair was braided cutely in a tail at the back of her head, probably to stop it getting in the way during practice. She had to know that I was begging to get at her feet. Although, there was the chance that she was so drunk that she hadn’t remembered anything. It was possible, but when I first entered the room I thought I saw the slightest of smirks from her, so I couldn’t be sure.

Just as I was growing frustrated with her seeming ignorance and my own confusion, Tiffany startled me by speaking up. “Alison, could you do me a favour please, and rub my feet? They’re a little sore from practice.” She spoke without even looking away from the television and my mum briefly glanced to see my reaction. Her tone was almost playful, and I considered for a moment that she might just be joking. One thing was for certain, joke or not joke, I now knew for sure that she’d remembered the previous evening.

A few seconds passed, before she turned her head and looked towards me in a patronising sort of way. My mother must have missed it though, as when she looked over Tiffany replaced it with a pout, then sighing she sat up and brought her legs from underneath her. I thought that maybe she was just messing around with me, trying to embarrass me in front of our mother. A little nod of her head soon corrected that idea, and when she bent her legs at the knee and raised them both, her seriousness was clear.

“Sure.” I responded uneasily, before looking at my mother and offering her a reassuring smile. I tried to make it seem as casual as possible, as if I was merely doing Tiffany a favour as her caring older sister. Her usual white socks adorned her precious feet, and I gazed longingly at the contrast they formed with her tanned legs. I had a perfect view of the soles of her socked feet as I climbed from my seat, and I thought I detected a hint of dirt upon them.

We both knew that it was an order rather than a request, and I didn’t want to consider the consequences of disobeying. Besides, I found it very arousing being told what to do by my little sister. I think it was something to do with the role reversal, as I was older and I had always been left in charge in the past, yet I was letting her secretly boss me around. Obviously from her smile she was enjoying our new relationship too and I guess she couldn’t believe her luck. She knew that she had a certain power over me because of her feet and I was unable to resist them.

However, the fact that she had the confidence to make such a demand in front of our mother was slightly worrying. I had naively assumed she would keep it a secret, as long as I bowed to her demands. But Tiffany was beaming as I nervously slipped my backside onto the couch next to her, unsure of how far she was going to take it. She elegantly stretched out her legs and placed them on my lap, crossing her feet at the ankles. As if suddenly eager to begin, my hands slipped around the foot on top; delicately kneading the sole with one, while caressing the top with the other. A gentle moan from her was the perfect incentive for me to continue.

Even though I loved female feet I wasn’t actually familiar with giving a foot massage. I had given my friends a couple in the past, but I’d never really known what I was doing. I tried putting pressure on her sole with my thumb and fingers, while maintaining a soft approach. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt her, and it was my desire to make the massage as pleasurable for her as possible. I knew that if she really enjoyed it then she would more than likely want the same treatment in the future. More massages meant more time at her feet.

I alternated between each foot, lovingly soothing her tired soles while she watched the television. It was obvious that my efforts relaxed her, as she kept closing her eyes even though she was trying not to. I guessed that she didn’t want me to think that I had any control over her, but it only spurred me on. Her socks were a bit damp, and coupled with the smell they were beginning to turn me on. Pleasing her in such a way made me feel good, and I had just begun to focus on her instep when she suddenly wriggled her feet free and kicked them in front of my face.

“Take my socks off please.” She asked in a sweet voice, disguising the order which we both knew was there.

Without hesitation, I nodded in submission, placing her feet side by side on my lap. Her toes pointed towards the arm of the chair, and with the curve they formed, I couldn’t resist tickling the bottom. I lightly trailed my fingers across her sole and giggled along with her as she openly laughed. I soon realised that display of affection was actually quite careless, as my mother quickly looked over at the noise in curiosity. From her face I could tell she was baffled by our sudden change in behaviour, and I felt my cheeks redden in embarrassment having been caught out. In utter humiliation, I dropped my eyes back to Tiffany’s feet, peeking up occasionally to check my mother wasn’t looking. Then, satisfied that we were no longer being watch I obeyed my sister’s order.

I peeled her socks off one foot, and then the other, placing them on the arm of the couch. With her feet now free of their suffocating prison, she wiggled her toes, sending a wave of foot stink up to my nose. I breathed in deeply as she fanned it up towards me, mesmerised by her intoxicating fragrance. She truly did have exquisite feet; it shocked me to think that I hadn’t noticed them earlier. Her cute toes delicately decreased in size from the big toe outwards, each one having been painted pink by her since I last saw them. There was also a toe ring on her left foot, something which I’d never seen before. She’d obviously gone out and bought it that day, which I assumed was for my benefit.

It was hard to get my head around everything, her feet looked so sexy. The fact that she’d put so much effort into making them look nice since my accidental confession made me think that she was comfortable with it. There was a possibility that I would be spending a lot of time at her feet, without having to worry about being embarrassed. I couldn’t have been happier. I’d been living in the same house as her for all these years, and it had taken this long for me to pamper her with the love she so deserved.

“Ohhh this feels so good.” She moaned as my fingers danced from toe to toe. Her cute decorated toes bobbed up and down in response to my fingertips, as I rubbed away the aches. I was happy that she was enjoying the treatment so much, and I felt further turned on by the fact that she was such a brat. The idea of her being so spoilt and commanding me to service her was a lovely one.

“Mum, you should give this a try. She has such good hands.” She sighed, bringing forth an uncontrollable blush from me. The way she was showing me off was humiliating enough, but to actually force me to massage my mother’s feet would be nothing but cruel.

“It’s alright honey. I think Alison is suffering enough at your stinky feet, never mind mine.” Our mother replied, thankfully not taking my sister’s bait.

Tiffany grinned at me and lay back into the couch, closing her eyes while sighing in approval. I wanted to just throw her feet off and tell her where to go. Foot fetish or not, it was out of order to do all of this in front of our mum, and she was taking advantage of me in the worst way.

Yet, I couldn’t argue with the tingling sensations between my legs and even though I despised her treatment, my @#%$ forced me to obey. Like a good servant, I kept up a steady pace on her toes, alternating the attention of my fingers between each one. I noticed that applying pressure to the bottom of each would cause a little twitch in her thighs, and I was curious of its meaning. She provided no insight however, and just lay there throughout, a contented smile upon her pretty face as she thoroughly enjoyed the pampering.

“Good, I didn’t want to share anyway” she purred from behind closed eyes. Her feet flexed and twisted in my hands as she spoke, and I could feel her sweat rubbing off into my skin. I traced my eyes along her tight body, imagining how it looked under her cheerleading uniform. I guessed that she was beautifully toned with all of the constant exercise, although I had never seen her naked. My thoughts drifted to wrongful images of her naked body, lying in the sun and catching a tan while I knelt at her side, tending to her needs.

“I’m going upstairs for a nap, so keep it down you two.” My mother interrupted as she stood up and walked towards the door. It was obvious from her body language that she found our display uncomfortable, and I was quite worried that she suspected something was going on. Tiffany didn’t seem at all bothered, or rather quite pleased with the fact that she’d so openly used me in front of our own mother. At that moment I despised her arrogance more than ever, but I kept my eyes obediently on her feet as I rubbed away, trying to contain my ironic arousal.

I sighed in relief when I finally heard the door upstairs close. As far as I was concerned my mother’s feet were completely off limits. They were old and dry, and frankly I didn’t want anything to do with them. There would be absolutely nothing arousing about rubbing her feet, and I hoped Tiffany wouldn’t suggest it again in the future.

“So sis, anything you want to get off your chest?” Tiffany suddenly teased, interrupting my trail of thought. The grin upon her face tormented me, and as her toes flexed in my hands I tried to resist the urge to sniff them. She knew exactly what she was doing and even though I was a slave to her feet, I wanted to at least show some restraint.

“I think you know Tiffany.” was my abrupt reply. Though submitting to my sister was a turn on, it was also very humiliating. So far, it had been easier to silently give in to her wishes, as if almost naturally. I knew she was pursuing a route where I would have to openly acknowledge my inferiority to her and I wasn’t so impressed with the idea.

As if reading my mind, Tiffany didn’t hesitate in rubbing it in. “I think so too!” she giggled “I’ve been thinking about what happened yesterday, and I’m still a little confused.” She wrinkled her forehead as if to amplify her confusion, though I wasn’t convinced. “Obviously you can’t get enough of my feet, and I know they’re pretty, but I’ve been wondering. Why do you like them so much?”

That was a fairly straightforward question as far as she was concerned, but I had no answer. “I don’t know.” I mumbled in response, looking at the floor. I hoped that it would suffice, even knowing how useless a reply it was.

Obviously Tiffany wasn’t so impressed with my lack of an explanation, as she snapped back in her familiar bratty tone “Alison! You had better start being honest with me, otherwise I’m going to tell mum.” She made sure to emphasize the threat by crossing her arms and looking annoyingly smug.

“Ok ok!” I quickly replied “I just like them. I don’t really know why, but I just always have. You’re my sister and I know it’s wrong, but I can’t help it. Please don’t tell mum Tiffany, I’ll do anything, please!”

She grinned with mischief at my obvious predicament, and even though she tried to hide it I could detect an underlying satisfaction. With a sigh she spoke patronisingly, teasing me with her words “So, big sister likes the smell of my little feet does she?”

“The smell, the taste, I don’t know why. I just do. I think your feet smell great.” I replied in all honesty. I felt at this point there was no logic in lying to her. She already knew that I liked feet, so I figured if I confessed my true feelings she may let me indulge my fetish.

“But it’s…so…so icky!?” she stuttered out, sounding 10 years younger than she actually was.

Almost subconsciously, like a robot, I heard myself mutter out loud in response “They’re beautiful.” I believed my words wholeheartedly, and I found no part of her feet to be ‘icky’.

From the smile evident on her face, Tiffany appeared to like my compliment. She sat there looking me over, filled to the brim with confidence and obvious superiority. Meanwhile, I had never felt so worthless. “So you want to kiss them?” she then asked, startling me from my self pity.

“Yes.” I heard myself whisper, perking up at her question. I caught sight of her eyes as they narrowed, and I immediately knew that I had been far too eager in my response.

“Are you a lesbian?” she enquired curiously, before gazing intently towards me. I wasn’t sure how serious the question was, as she quickly lost interest and momentarily watched the television. Her toes danced to the beat of the background music of the program, and I resumed her foot massage as I tried to think of an answer. The question was very uncomfortable for me; I hadn’t come out about my sexuality and I wasn’t intending to anytime soon. Yet, now it was entirely out of my hands. Tiffany was in complete control, and in all honesty it suited her.

“I might let you kiss them…” she suddenly teased, while slipping her feet free of my hands and wiggling her toes under my nose. She looked on smugly, then after taking a deep breath continued while tracing my lips with her big toe “…but…as payment you would have to be my slave.”

I had been expecting a demand of that sort, so I wasn’t actually that surprised. Through my foot fetish I had learned that the idea of being a slave was appealing to me. To what extent she expected me to act as her servant was something I found myself unsure of however. To be honest, I was relieved that she hadn’t pressed the issue of my sexuality. It was actually quite unexpected and tasteful for her to drop the subject, but I felt there was an unspoken understanding between us. She knew I was a lesbian, and if I didn’t agree to be her slave then she would probably pursue it.

Her feet continued to seduce me and she was almost an expert when it came to her toes. They gently danced across my face, so soft in their touch that I found myself completely entranced with her. I felt as if she was hypnotising me, and I barely registered her words as she spoke. “If you do my chores then I’ll let you sniff my feet once in a while, and maybe even kiss them. And I won’t tell mum as long as you do whatever I say, whenever I want. Got it?”

I looked up from her feet, trying to silently plead with her through my eyes. I knew what she was doing. She was going to use my fetish to manipulate me and turn me into her total slave. The idea of being forced to act as her foot slave was arousing, but I wasn’t too keen on the domestic side of things as she was suggesting. Her toes continued to wiggle beneath my chin as if trying to coax me to bow to her demands. I tried to turn my head away, to give myself at least a moment to think clearly. Tiffany was having none of it though, and her toes held me firmly in her gaze. With her scent engulfing me I knew it was hopeless, and with a nod in defeat I surrendered to her and willingly accepted my place as her slave.

Tiffany clapped her hands at my submission, then withdrew her feet and sat up on the couch. Her excitement was clear as day in her voice as she spoke. “This is so funny, but it’s cool as well. I’m going to work your butt so much! You can start by cleaning my room. I’m going for some extra cheerleading practice now and I want it finished by the time I get back.” She said, already slipping into the role as my new boss.

“Put my shoes and socks on.” She said, looking at her watch and muttering the words as if they were an after thought.

I dropped to my knees before her and obeyed immediately. She merely looked on in glee as I first put on her socks, then her scruffy old sneakers. I made sure to slip them on carefully, trying to be as efficient as possible. Once I had firmly laced her sneakers she showed her approval by standing and patting my head. Then, without saying another word she was gone, leaving me to clean her room.

With Tiffany out of the house for a few hours I took a moment to consider my situation. I was still unsure of where I wanted this to lead. It was too humiliating to imagine myself crawling around, tending to my sister’s needs. But the more I thought about it, the more it turned me on. The further I delved into my fantasy the more excited I became. What if Tiffany really reduced me to her slave and let me worship her feet every day? Or maybe she’d demand that I gave her my wages while she lounged around all week. The fact that my own sister had taken the role of my mistress had added a new edge to my lust. In all fairness, why should she have to clean her room if she had someone like me to do it?

I considered the answers while sifting through her room. It really was a mess, and as well as having her clothes strewn everywhere, her desk was a total state. I could see why she didn’t want to be the one to clean it. The task was a daunting prospect as I knew nothing of her expectations. I could only imagine that she would be very strict, as she could now afford to be without any objection from myself. With that incentive on my mind I dug in and cleaned her room to the best of my ability.

The time seemed to fly by as I worked tirelessly on my hands and knees, scraping the dust from under her bed. Before I knew it I heard the door downstairs slam, followed by the repetitious sound of her shoes stomping up the stairs. Luckily I had done a pretty good job, even if the short amount of time that she’d been gone. The room was sparkling as far as I could tell, and with almost pride I went to greet her before she could see it.

She looked tired and sweaty as we came face to face, and when she held her bag out I knew to take it from her. I figured it was best to be as nice to her as possible, as she often came home from her practice sessions in quite a bad mood. So, in as sincere a voice as possible I asked her how her practice had been.

“It was fine.” She said bluntly, before adding “Did you clean my room?” while impatiently peering over my shoulder. ‘Straight to the point’ is what I thought, however all I could manage to squeeze out was a pitiful “Yes Tiffany.”

“Ok, let’s see it then.” She sighed, brushing past me and rudely barging my shoulder with her own. Cheerleading practice had once again lowered her mood, and I feared that she would find a fault in my work. Even though I had put all of my effort into pleasing her I knew that she would find some sadistic pleasure in pointing out all of my errors, simply because she now could.

I followed Tiffany to her bedroom like a puppy, struggling to keep my eyes off her sneakers as we made our way across the landing. The pleated skirt she wore was quite short, and with every step I’d catch a glimpse of her underwear. As if knowing of my downward looks, her hips swayed provocatively, drawing me further under her control. The way she teased me made it clear that she was fully aware of her new found power, and similarly my helplessness.

“Wow, you’ve actually done a pretty good job!” she said, genuinely pleased with my performance as her maid. I struggled to hide my shock at her words, as it was definitely not the reaction I was expecting. She marched around the room inspecting my handiwork, and I was a little nervous as she dragged her finger along the windowsill checking for dust. The work I’d put in was tiring, and I would be so disappointed if she decided it wasn’t good enough. She lightly kicked the boxes beneath her bed and seemed pleased with the overall tidiness. Meanwhile, I just stood there throughout, clutching her bag and nervously hoping for her approval.

Finally she looked over and put me at ease. “Ok, I guess you’ve earned a reward. How shall we do this, what do you want? A sniff?” she said, evidently unsure of herself for the first time since the whole thing had begun.

I knew exactly what I wanted as a reward. The only problem I had was how to ask for such a thing. Possibly due to nerves on my part, I fumbled with her bag, trying to squeeze it beneath her bed. It was simply something to buy me a few seconds while I thought of the right way to word my proposal. Ultimately it was a waste of time as my choice of words was far from discreet. “Ummm…could I maybe, clean your feet?”

“Clean my feet? Well…I suppose so. That does sound nice, my feet are really aching. I guess if that’s what you want. You go and get the water and I’ll be waiting here.” She said as she popped her firm bottom on to the bed.

“I meant with my tongue…” I eagerly corrected, before trailing off uneasily as I noticed her mouth hang open.

“Your tongue?!” she replied, raising her hand to her mouth while trying to stifle her laughter “Eww sis, you really are a weird one!”

I felt my face flush with embarrassment as she mocked me. It was true, I was a weird one. “Never mind...” I muttered, trying to retract my request and play it off as a joke.

“No, its fine, if you really want to lick my sweaty, stinky feet clean then that’s your choice.” She said bluntly before I had a chance to finish. Her words were quite harsh to hear out loud, but I was turned on so much by the very thought of servicing her. I was not going to turn down an offer like that.

Her feet were beautiful and I could only imagine how sweaty they were after her practice. She swung her legs back and forth, kicking the side of the bed while she waited for me to act. I wasn’t sure how to begin, but I fell to my knees before her and began unlacing her sneakers, thinking it was a good place to start. It would be the first time that I would be allowed to worship her feet while she watched, and I found it very exciting.

My fingers trembled in anticipation as they fidgeted with the laces. With every second I drew closer to uncasing her feet I could feel my @#%$ aching more. Tiffany looked down on me smugly while I debased myself at her feet. Even though my attention was fully on her shoes and socks I could tell she was watching me. Finally I slipped both sneakers from her feet, and quickly followed suit with her white socks. She sighed and wiggled her toes in relief and it was obvious how hot and sweaty they were. The socks had marked her skin and the fuzz stuck to her soles and between her toes.

Through instinct I immediately placed my nose under her toes and inhaled deeply. The smell was both exhilarating and overwhelming. Tiffany must have found the whole scene rather amusing. Her giggles were frequent, and whether it was due to my tongue tickling her I was unsure. It was more likely that my self-inflicted humiliation was the source of her laughter. She cupped her toes and grabbed at my face, spreading her sweat all over my nose and cheeks. Playfully she grasped my nose between her toes and shook my head around, giggling while she humiliated me without resistance. All I could do was take in her strong odour in response.

She enjoyed squashing my face with the soles of both feet while I knelt below her. A lot of the sock fuzz was wiped away while she played, and it was disappointing as I wanted to be the one to clean her feet. Luckily the smell remained and I continued to breathe it in throughout her assault. Her cheerleading practice had obviously been a pressing session, as the odour of her feet was stronger than I’d ever encountered. She fascinated and tamed me with her lingering scent, forcing my nose to dart around like an excited puppy. No part of her foot was left unexplored as she rubbed away and with every breath I fell more in love with her.

Tiffany eventually grew tired of rubbing her soles on my face. I guess she’d achieved what she wanted; my cheeks must have reeked of her feet. With a tap on my nose she brought me to attention, and I sat looking up at her unsure of what she wanted. Without hesitating, she slipped her toe from my nose to my lips and flicked at my mouth. Then, with a snap of her fingers she signalled me to begin with the cleansing.

Brimming with excitement, I parted my lips and allowed her toe to enter. It came to rest on my tongue and in reaction the sides curled up to enclose it. My lips formed a tight seal and I began to suck, trying to drink all of her foot sweat. The shape of her toe was exquisite and very pleasing to touch, and I found myself gently massaging the bottom with the tip. The actual taste was sharp but pleasant, and I noted that it was stronger than my previous encounter.

Tiffany squirmed at my oral massage and I initially thought that she wasn’t enjoying it. When those squirms turned to moans I knew that I was soothing her tired feet to her satisfaction. Full of confidence, I repeated the attention for each toe, pausing to remove and swallow the fuzz in between. I made sure to savour its taste before swallowing, refusing to move on until the crevice was spotless.

Once I had given each toe the same treatment, Tiffany withdrew her foot and leant forward to look at it. I watched her stare intently at her wiggling toes as if inspecting my work. It was all new to me and I’d no idea whether I was cleaning her feet properly. To my relief she seemed satisfied with my job, and curling her toes back, she sat up and placed her sole in my face. I knew what she wanted and leant forward, tongue extended eagerly. My fingers grasped her foot by the ankle, while my neck craned awkwardly to lap at her sole. Her other foot casually kicked back and forth to my left as my tongue made contact with her skin. Licking her feet really was a treat, and I fully intended to enjoy it while it lasted. I could feel her toes flexing and twisting against my hair as drew my tongue up from heel to toes.

The taste of her sole was slightly different to her toes. I wouldn’t say it was better, but it just offered a nice variety for me to enjoy. Also, there was a larger area for my tongue to explore, and I found myself constantly swallowing all of the cotton that was stuck to the bottom. I focused in on the ball of her foot, using the tip of my tongue to apply a firm pressure. “That’s it, clean my feet” I heard her moan in response, and I increased my efforts accordingly with a renewed vigour. Even when it was clearly clean I continued to lick, bringing her skin to wrinkle after the excessive moisture.

Throughout the worship Tiffany sighed with every caress of my tongue. Glancing up from her foot I noticed that she was lying back with her head resting to one side. Her eyes were closed and her lips trembled as she bit down. “Mmm, I could get used to this, it feels so good” she purred in approval bringing forth a renewed effort from me. “I feel like a princess” she whispered, as if an after thought.

I peered up at her, nodding in agreement and hoping that it would become a regular service. There was something about her attitude as she lay there smiling to herself. She was relaxed, as if safe in the knowledge that she was my superior. I wanted to masturbate so much at that moment, but I knew it was a big risk right in front of her. But, with her eyes closed it was a risk worth taking, and I was so turned on at that point that I was nearly boiling up. So, without the strength to resist, and as with our earlier encounter, I slipped my fingers down my trousers.

I’d barely got into it before I was startled by her voice. “That’s disgusting Alison!” she squealed, causing me to look up and notice her now wide open eyes. “Don’t ever do that in front of me.” She quickly added, almost viciously.

I sat there startled for a moment. I thought it was quite obvious to Tiffany that her feet turned me on, and it would be a real struggle to restrain myself. Her arrogance and selfishness had reached a new level if she expected to use my fetish and deny me pleasure at the same time. I withdrew my fingers as she wished and resumed licking her foot. It was embarrassing to be caught masturbating by her, but I understood her feelings with it now and just wanted to enjoy her feet while I could.

“Alison! I’m serious.” she continued to berate, kicking at my forehead with the ball of her foot. My head bounced off to the side, and I looked at her completely stunned by her aggression. “Do that in your own time. I don’t want to see it. If you can’t control yourself then I think it’s better if you stay away from my feet.”

I gazed upwards and nodded, placing my palms on the floor and visibly away from my trousers. It was further humiliation to simply accept that I wasn’t allowed release, but there was nothing I could do about it. A new smirk came across Tiffany’s face, and she seemed pleased with gaining control over yet another aspect of my life. I looked at her in envy for a few seconds, then knowing my place; I bent down and resumed licking her other foot. Though I did enjoy it, it appeared the pleasure would be all Tiffany’s even if it was supposed to be my reward for being good. Still, I would surely complete all of her chores with such rewards on offer.

Over the next few days I came to understand that Tiffany expected the massage treatment every afternoon. It didn’t matter who arrived home first, and if I was busy I’d just have to drop whatever I was doing so that Tiffany could receive her pampering. She also made it clear that I was to offer her a foot rub rather than her having to ask, and I was also expected to take off her shoes and socks while she made herself comfortable. The massages initially only took 10-15 minutes, but after a few sessions I found that they could last up to an hour.

My mother didn’t seem to realise what was going on, but she was genuinely happy that we were spending so much time together and getting along so well. Our arguments in the past had been a right nightmare for her, and it seemed she was oblivious to Tiffany’s hold over me. I thought it would seem obvious to her, I used to do all I could to ignore my sister and now I was rubbing her feet every day. Perhaps my mother did know something was up and she just didn’t know how to deal with it.

I noticed she would give us occasional glances as I rubbed away at Tiffany’s soles, probably curious at the effort that I openly put into the massages. It also must have been obvious that the treatment was one sided, with myself being the one to always give rather than receive. Even when Tiffany wiggled her toes under my nose and giggled as I was forced to smell them, our mother would say nothing. It had also become routine for Tiffany to just jump up when she was satisfied, leaving me to take her socks and shoes up to her bedroom.

As Tiffany’s confidence grew, the massages progressed to me kneeling on the floor rather than sitting on the couch. It was further humiliating being forced to kneel and pamper my sister while my mother looked on. Even more so on the occasions where Tiffany would be watching the television while barking orders at me such as ‘harder’ or ‘do my toes now’. I would sheepishly look towards our mother every time she opened her mouth, expecting there to be some consequence. Yet, it never came. I honestly couldn’t fathom why she had not said anything.

Her feet became my total responsibility and twice a week the massage would be followed by a pedicure. I enjoyed these sessions as it gave me a chance to pamper my new princess openly without feeling embarrassed. Many sisters gave each other pedicures, so it was nothing out of the ordinary. Tiffany would choose a varnish and my job would be to buff and prepare her feet, then discreetly blow her nails dry once they were painted. I took real pride in my work, even though my sister saw it as simply another way for me to slavishly serve her.

And as promised, Tiffany made use of my face as her foot rest whenever she could. Pretty much every time my mum was out of the house, I would find myself on my back with her sweaty feet plastered upon my face. She seemed to prefer it when her feet were bare, as the skin on skin contact would only increase the sweat and as a result, the smell. I didn’t mind though, I wasn’t about to turn down this unlimited access to her feet.

A variety of situations took place with me beneath her feet. While she watched tv or read a book, I would lay still with her feet resting on my face. It became uncomfortable after a while, as the sweat would start to sting my skin. Of course, this didn’t bother Tiffany in the slightest and she would carelessly drag her soles around, cupping her toes over my nose repeatedly.

Similarly, Tiffany’s homework became a joint effort, with me telling her the answers from under her desk while she wrote them down. Every time I knew the answer I would be allowed to kiss her feet and she would playfully tug at my nose and lips with her toes while she worked. Whether this helped her with the work was unknown to me, but I certainly enjoyed it and I assume she did too.

In fact, Tiffany had me under her feet every chance she got. Straight after school I would prepare her dinner and then lay under the table while she ate. My stomach would grumble while she casually rubbed her feet into my face, all the while enjoying the meal that I had prepared. And she liked nothing more than to come home after her cheerleading practice and make me kneel in front of her. I had to remove her shoes and socks, then stay on my knees, hands by my side while she aggressively rubbed away the sweat and stink onto my face. I would be lying if I said I didn’t look forward to the treatment. I knew it was only a matter of time before she displayed me as her footrest to our mother.

The foot cleaning didn’t occur so much, even though it was obvious that she enjoyed it. I came to understand that it was a reward that wasn’t so easily obtained. If I wanted to lick my sister’s feet then I would have to work really hard and please her without fault. She was a genius. Even at her young age she knew how to use my weakness as a tool to train me. Before long she had me eating out of the palm of her hand. And, throughout it all she forbade me from touching myself in her presence.

It wasn’t just foot-related servitude either. Since being caught I had assumed all of Tiffany’s chores. Things like cleaning her room had become my responsibility in exchange for feet-related rewards. However, the majority of her chores I had just taken over without being told. If I noticed that Tiffany hadn’t washed the dishes after dinner, then I knew she expected me to do it. This trend became common concerning her chores, till eventually I found myself doing everything while Tiffany did absolutely nothing. I really did feel like her maid, especially when I was working away in the bathroom while she watched tv. She’d sit with her feet propped up on a footrest and call out for me to bring her a fresh drink like a bratty princess, and of course I obeyed immediately.

Things had progressed further and more quickly than I could ever have imagined. On the first weekend after my involuntarily confession I found myself down on my hands and knees, scrubbing the kitchen to a high shine. As usual our mother had given us a list of chores to complete before she came home. Of course, these had all been allocated to me while Tiffany did nothing. She was relaxing reading a magazine, where as I was working my butt off in the kitchen. It was only 2 in the afternoon, and I’d already hung the washing out to dry, polished all of the surfaces, washed and ironed my sister’s cheerleading uniform and vacuumed the living room.

I was focused in on a particular dirty spot when I was disturbed by the sound of high heels clicking on the kitchen floor. Immediately I looked up from my crouched position, only to be greeted by the now familiar sight of my sister’s feet. Her nails were painted a bright blue, a varnish that I had so lovingly applied earlier that day. It stood out in comparison to my pink heels, well, her pink heels and though it was an odd colour match, it seemed to work on her.

“Greet me properly.” She prompted, standing there with her feet together and hands on hips. I took a moment to comprehend her words, then understanding; I crawled forward and placed a kiss on each of her feet. I found myself sighing in appreciation at her toes, as they wiggled against my chin during my humbling act.

“Stand up.” She added, a command that I found most unexpected. Ever since submitting to my sister I’d noticed that she always enjoyed having me either on my knees or lying on my back. Having me stand in her presence was something that went against our new roles. It had happened rarely over the last week, as I would immediately drop to the ground the moment I’d see her. As I climbed to my feet I felt a little uneasy, like there was something really serious that she wanted to discuss.

Tiffany raised her left index finger, pausing while she softly circled my lips, before slipping the tip beneath my chin. Ever so gently she raised my head, the pressure not forceful, but rather delicate. There was no attempt to hide her amusement as my eyes gazed upwards into hers. I’d removed my shoes so I could clean the floor easily, and embarrassingly I now stood shorter than my little sister. Of all the things I had been subjected to in the last few days I found this pose to be right at the top of the humiliation scale. She was demonstrating her superiority and ownership of me in a casually assertive way. The message behind her action was obvious and it was clear to see why she wanted me on my feet. I was her bitch.

She kept my face perched upon her fingertip while she smiled down merrily, milking the moment for all it was worth. It was only after I dropped my eyes to the floor that she spoke. “I like this.” She announced “From now on, you will always be barefoot in my presence. I will always be taller than you. I’m now the bigger sister.”

Her words were patronising and merely concreted her now obvious physical superiority. Even if she was only taller because of the heels it was still embarrassing. Yet, it did feel kind of necessary and appropriate for her to look down on me, as if a mark of my servant status. However, it was a more assertive attitude than before. Of course, she had always been confident, but it was previously in a childlike and curious way. I felt that she was now becoming more bold and comfortable, and for the first time I experienced a sense of dread as I knew I had absolutely no control. As if poetically confirming my fears, she gently combed my hair behind my ears with her free hand. It was if she considered me her pet, and the act was almost a casual grooming while she revelled in the moment.

“Anyway, that isn’t why I want to talk you.” She spoke, while never ceasing her fingering of my hair. “What I want is a gift, something to confirm me as your new owner. You know, as a thank you for letting you pamper my feet and keeping it a secret from mum. What do you think?”

I was a bit taken aback by her suggestion. Referring to herself as my owner seemed like enough confirmation for me, but I should have guessed that Tiffany wouldn’t be so easily satisfied. I paused as my mind came to a blank. I honestly couldn’t think of anything that would suffice, and besides, it seemed a random request, as if only conceived through her boredom. My attention wavered as I considered her question, and carelessly my chin slipped from her finger. Tiffany was cool and collected in response, and she merely caught my cheeks between her thumb and index finger, maintaining my upward gaze into her eyes.

“What sort of gift?” I asked in an attempt to appease her, almost mumbling it out due to the force of her hold. Her grasp was firm, and I imagined that my squashed lips closely resembled a most unattractive fish.

“You decide Alison. Something appropriate, but whatever it is, I want it now.” She replied sternly, getting straight to the point and allowing no room for a misunderstanding on my part. She really wasn’t going to give me any hint of what she expected. I’d already given her my favourite pair of high heels, so I assumed that it would have to be something better than that. The problem was, that with such short notice I couldn’t exactly go out and buy her something; I would have to find a gift in the house.

“I’ll be waiting in the living room, and in 10 minutes I want you on your knees in front of me with my gift.” She ordered. Then releasing my chin she barged past my shoulder and strode regally towards the living room. There was a final pat on my bottom as she past, and just before she left the room I heard her mockingly add “Got it ‘little’ sis?”

I got it alright. I understood what she wanted me to do, but I really didn’t know what I would offer her as a tribute. It did seem a little silly, but I knew that she was serious about the whole thing so I figured I may as well be too. I stood stupidly in the kitchen for a few minutes while I aimlessly tried to think of anything suitable. I was just growing impatient when I suddenly had a brilliant idea. It came from nowhere, and I rushed to my bedroom and opened the draw beneath my bed. It had been my special place for as long as I could remember, and I stored all of my personal and most cherished items there. It was a bit of a mess, made up of all sorts of rubbish that I kept purely for sentimental reasons. I even had a few love letters from the boys in my class, back before I’d come to terms with my sexuality.

The draw was far from tidy, a common occurrence in my room, and I settled with just chucking the majority of the junk over my shoulder. All sorts of bits and pieces were being scattered over my bedroom floor, as I frustratingly searched for the item I had in mind. I was sure I kept it there, I always had done and I was getting a bit flustered with every minute that passed. It was getting close to the ten minute deadline when I peeled away an old scarf towards the back, then sighed in relief as a thin object fell from it. I briefly gazed down at my old prized riding crop which I had won so many years earlier. Without wasting another second, I swept it up with my greedy paws and headed back to Tiffany downstairs.

I knelt before her, arms outstretched, presenting my beloved riding crop to my new owner. I’ll admit I felt very unhappy about handing over my prized possession to my younger sister. I had worked so hard to win that riding competition and now I was being forced to work even harder to win her approval. For a number of years; every night I would shun my friends so I could spend hours perched upon Meadow’s back, galloping around the field while perfecting my riding technique. Obviously from my current employment it amounted to nothing, but I still frequently indulged it as a hobby. However, it was somehow a fitting act to mark the occasion of Tiffany assuming the dominant role in our relationship as sisters. I could think of no other item that held enough value to fully pay tribute to her ascent.

Tiffany’s eyes widened at my gift, and I could detect a hint of childish delight. This was a big statement I was making, we both knew it. Throughout my childhood this was the one thing that I had been most proud of. Tiffany had always felt some jealousy towards my equestrian achievements, and I was handing it over to her willingly, maybe even wanting it to happen more than she did. She trailed her fingers along the length of the leather rod while it remained perched on my upturned palms.

I suddenly felt myself overcome with a feeling of dread. I think for the first time it really hit home just how out of control I’d let everything get. In only a week I’d let my younger sister reduce me to her slave, all because I had an unexplainable attraction to her feet. That wasn’t the problem though. I was starting to understand that it had grown bigger than the feet issue, and my latest humiliation was evidence of that. Tiffany really wanted to take control of every part of my life, and even though I had an underlying desire to comply I felt that things needed to be discussed.

With my concerns in mind, I felt it was necessary to get things out in the open. Even though my slavery was now accepted between us, we hadn’t really openly talked about it other than the one night. I tried to act assertive as I said “Tiffany. Can we talk a moment?”, but it came out more timid if anything.

She looked up from the crop and nodded her permission, prompting me to continue. “Don’t you think things are moving a bit too fast? I mean…we are sisters…” I reasoned. It was a bit ironic that I was now coming over all moral when I was the one that had initiated the whole thing. If I hadn’t been so serious I would have probably laughed at my idiocy.

“Nonsense” she said while taking the crop from my hands, “you know this is what you want, and it’s definitely what I want. Why else, all of the things you could have chosen, did you give me your beloved riding crop?”

“I don’t know.” I replied, in all honesty.

“I think you do. You want me to be your…mistress, is it?” She said coming across a little unsure of herself. With my interests I was very familiar with what a mistress was, but I’d have never thought Tiffany would be. It made me slightly worried, as I assumed that she must have been doing a little research. If that was the case, who knows what else she may have stumbled upon.

While I knelt there mulling over just how much she knew, Tiffany tested the crop in front of me, narrowly missing my face with the tip. Her eyes seemed to light up in reaction to the sound it made as it broke the air, and with every swing her technique improved. After a few practice runs, she lightly tapped my breasts and began to speak. “You are a real weird one” she muttered, while tracing the contours of my breasts with the tip of the crop. “Of all the girls around here to be your mistress you choose your sister? I know I’m hot, but come on Alison, you’re such a freak. But if that’s what you want then fine, I think it’s great having my own slave girl. Now be a good girl and get on your hands and knees, I want to try my new whip.”

I acted a little too slowly for my sister’s liking, and I soon learned this from a sharp sting to my right nipple. She’d tried to whip me into moving faster but had inadvertently caught me smack on my most tender spot and I yelped in response. The pain was intense, but thankfully brief and when she moved to strike again I quickly got to my hands and knees as she wanted. I could tell that Tiffany enjoyed tormenting me, not just from the giggles but also the way she used the crop. While I sat there on all fours, she tickled my back through my shirt, drawing patterns with the crop’s tip and occasionally tapping me lightly.

Tiffany rose to her feet and elegantly raised her right leg, straightening it over my back while twisting her hips. I experienced a warm flush in my belly as she placed her foot on the ground, before swiftly dropping her cute bottom onto my lower back. My spine dipped slightly in response to the new weight as she raised her legs, making me her only support. Tiffany teasingly wiggled her cheeks as she nestled in comfort upon my back, while slipping her fingers amongst my hair and grasping it firmly as a makeshift reign. My arms and legs trembled under her weight, more so from the humiliation than her light figure.

A tap of her heels on my outer thighs was the signal to begin, so onwards I marched with my sister sat atop. She used my hair to guide me out of the living room, and the kitchen’s tiled floor was pleasantly cool on my knees. After a few laboured steps it was evident that being her pony was no easy task, and I soon tired under her weight. It was at this point that I came to understand just how stern a mistress Tiffany could be. Rather than allowing me to have a breather, she reacted to my faltering pace with a flurry of encouraging hits to my bottom. I screamed at her to stop, but she merely tugged at my hair and demanded that I improve my effort. I soon came to understand how my own horse’s felt as I had ridden them to the point of collapse, and I felt nothing but pity for the poor animals. However, Tiffany showed no compassion at all, and she found great delight in urging me to gallop while my legs almost gave way beneath me. Even as my head hung in defeat she pulled my hair tighter still and worked me ever harder, meandering from room to room as I gyrated between her luscious legs.

We continued our little trip around the house for god knows how long, and throughout Tiffany dictated my every move with my hair and that terrible crop. It was ridiculously humiliating, to be treated as an animal within your own house, and I just knew that she was sat above me smiling away. Thankfully, after the initial training period her use of the crop became less frequent as I obediently catered to her whims. On a number of occasions I noticed the toes of her right foot swaying into my view as I plodded along, and the way they wiggled became quite distracting. Tiffany seemed to pick up on my wavering attention, and as was now the norm she used it against me. She stretched out her leg, ending with her toes dangling seductively in front of my face and teasingly close to my nose and mouth. The scent was pleasant, and I strained to reach forward for a taste. Of course, with every lung forward her foot would remain the same distance away, and like a donkey I kept mindlessly chasing the carrot. Tiffany’s manipulation and control of me was reaching the level of an expert. She knew exactly how to push my buttons and what drove me to obey. The sound of her laughter as I carried her along was a fitting soundtrack to my pony conversion.

As we returned to the living room she manoeuvred me in front of the television and placed her feet on the floor either side of me. I suspected that she wanted to stop, but unsure and not wanting to anger her, I kept my posture. I felt the hairs stand up on the back of my neck as she shifted her weight on my back. The tips of her heels came to rest on my shoulders, and the reflection in the television showed her sitting up in a most casual pose. It was almost as if it was a display of total control and she had no worry of resistance from her broken steed.

Her heels twisted against my perspiring skin, and satisfied with my grunts and groans she took a moment to further humiliate me. “You do make a good pony sis.” She laughed “Maybe I’ll come with you next time you go to the field, and I can ride you around in front of your friends. Oh, what a loser you’ve become Alison, you have your own younger sister as your mistress.”

Her words meant nothing to me, and I struggled to manifest simple thoughts amongst the pain that I felt throughout my limbs. Even if I could hear her words, I didn’t care for them in the slightest, I was just thankful to finally be given a break. Tiffany was openly displaying just how little she really cared for me as her sister, and I also sensed that she was enjoying it very much. I liked her feet, but the pony stuff did absolutely nothing for me. I couldn’t even begin to find it pleasurable as I was just too tired. But deep down I felt the slightest satisfaction, and it wasn’t because of what I was doing, but rather who I was doing it for.

My break was soon cut short as my new mistress pulled sharply on my hair while dropping her feet, then stabbing my ribs with her heels. “Giddy up!” she squealed into my ear, before following her order with a flurry of sharp hits to my bottom. I jolted in response, and taking a deep breath I trudged onwards, not once attempting to demount my rider. And so the humiliating servitude continued.

Tiffany spent the best part of an hour riding me around the house. Every time I would slow down the sting of the crop would urge me on. Similarly, I learned that quick bursts of pace would be rewarded with her foot being moved within reach, with much kissing and licking on my part. It wasn’t until our mother returned home that she finally dismounted, and it was quite lucky that we weren’t caught. By the end of the ordeal my hands and knees were red raw and my bottom must have been covered in welts. Even though Tiffany was rather tame in her use of the crop I could still feel its effects. I had not enjoyed the experience at all, even though my @#%$ told a different story. I’d leaked throughout my pony treatment and Tiffany must have noticed the dark stain on my panties, or at least the accompanying smell. I could only reason that it was in response to her arrogant misuse of me, as physically the experience was less than thrilling.

The arrival of our mother brought an end to Tiffany’s fun that day and I was thankful as I’d arranged to meet a friend for coffee later that afternoon. Obviously I had to check it was ok with Tiffany beforehand, and once I’d been given permission I was more than happy to be granted a most welcome break. Being honest, the arousal I experienced while my sister dominated me was like none other I’d ever felt and the constant lust without release was most tiring. It was also a major job on my brain and I figured a time out was just what I needed, plus it would be good to catch up with my friend Susan. I spent the rest of the afternoon finishing up the leftover chores and after that Tiffany demanded a ‘quick’ foot massage before I left. I say quick, but it was almost an hour later until I found myself sat in the coffee shop with Susan.

As I was the older sister to Tiffany, Susan long ago assumed the same role to me. She may have only been a few months older, but she had a way of making me feel at ease and cared for. When we were younger I’d had a bit of a crush on her, and it still did remain somewhat, although I had accepted long ago that there was no chance of anything happening. Susan was definitely not that way inclined, and we were such good friends that it would only cause problems if I had confided my feelings in her. I’d never considered risking her friendship.

“Alison, are you alright? You seem distant?” Susan asked, ever the concerned friend. I flinched from my daydream at her words, pausing to sip at my coffee while considering a response. We’d been at the coffee shop for 20 minutes and I’d barely said a word. ‘No, I’m not alright’ is what I really wanted to say. I had so much I needed to get off my chest, but how I could ever tell her about what was going on? Even though she was my best friend, she’d never understand how I had let things get to this stage. Confessing my fetish to her was a big enough step, but adding in the part about my own sister as well was too much. I settled with a shrug of my shoulders and hoped she’d be satisfied.

“You know that if you ever have anything to talk about, I’m always ready to listen, right?” she added. Her eyes were very reassuring and for a moment I actually considered telling her everything. But try as I may, I could not find the right words. How exactly would I broach the subject? I could picture the look on her face as I confessed all, and even if she somehow understood, she would never think of me the same way again.

I left our get together feeling quite unfulfilled. The whole business with my sister had really dampened the mood, and I could tell that Susan was aware of my wandering thoughts. Being her usual considerate self she had not pressed the issue, which I was thankful for, but it hadn’t helped my growing guilt. To put it simply I felt ashamed. It was humiliating to let Tiffany treat me the way she did, even if I did find it arousing, and every day it was spiralling further out of control. There really was no way of going back now, I had let her belittle and use me in too many ways. When she demanded a foot massage I would crumble, but worse still the non feet-related orders were also obeyed without question. Being away from her, if only for a brief time allowed me to think clearly, and I fully understood that my submission was leading to big implications on my life as a whole. The only positive I took from the meeting was the guarantee that Susan would be there for me. Having her there as a support, whether she knew of my situation or not was a real boost to my confidence.

Tiffany was sat in the arm chair, reading a book when I returned home later that evening. I felt it was best not to disturb her, but before I could head up to my room she subtly gave me an order. Without looking up, she slipped her feet from her flip flops and slightly lifted them, a clear enough message to me which caused a momentary loathing of her arrogance. Even though it was that very attitude that turned me on, I still couldn’t help but dislike it when thinking clearly. Yet, once again that feeling soon evaporated when I caught sight of her wiggling toes, calling me over and demanding attention.

Without a word being spoken between us, I put down my handbag and assumed my position beneath her feet. With me lying on my back, she relaxed her legs and allowed her feet to land softly on my face. Her soles felt like silk against my facial features, and her toes curled over my nose enveloping me in their scent and reducing my face to a mere footstool. I stayed completely still while she enjoyed her book, sniffing away while she occasionally repositioned her feet in search of comfort.

“So did you have fun with your friend?” she asked after a long period of time had passed, all of which had been filled with silence.

“Umm yes I suppose.” I mumbled from beneath her soles. She seemed uninterested in my reply and simply rubbed her sweaty feet into my face. I could hear her turning the pages of the book every few minutes, and each pause in her reading was accompanied by a downward push of her feet, which I believed was her shifting her seated position. At least ten minutes elapsed before she felt it necessary to converse with me again.

“I want Susan.” she said outright, her attention never leaving the book.

“Susan?” I asked in genuine confusion. “I don’t know what you mean?” I quickly added, trying to gain at least some understanding of what she was talking about.

I heard the page turn again, and then as if displeased with my ignorance she let out an audible sigh. I felt her feet lift from my face, and placing them either side of my head, she leant forward, peering down at me over the pages.

“I want Susan, down at my feet, next to you.” She said removing any doubt of what she was demanding. Her eyes were piercing and held my own as their prisoner. I was visibly frozen beneath her, and I found myself unable to look away from her commanding stare.

I struggled to take in what she was saying, and I heard myself stutter out a dumb sounding “But…I mean…why?”

The look on her face said it all. I detected a hint of anger, and it wasn’t because I was questioning her, but rather an inconvenience by forcing her to explain herself. She had grown used to me obeying her without question since the change in our relationship, but this was my best friend we were talking about. I had no intention of just mindlessly letting my sister enslave her. Tiffany must have sensed my resistance too, as she was far from pleased, evident by her face screwing up in a childish tantrum.

“I just do alright!” she snapped “I want her down at my feet, and you’re going to get her there!” She emphasised her demand with a stamp of her foot on my chest, bringing instant pain to my breasts and a loud uncontrollable wail from my lips. It was both childish and vicious, but I would expect no less from a brat like Tiffany. In the past I would have slapped her hard, but I just lay there trying to catch my breath as she sat above scowling at me.

“But…I can’t…” I stammered profusely throughout the pain. How could I ever suggest such a thing to Susan, my best friend, a girl who was so caring and considerate? There’s no way I’d ever bring her into the situation I’d found myself unable to escape, and why did Tiffany want her anyway, wasn’t I good enough? It was embarrassing to admit but her request had made me slightly jealous. I didn’t want to share my sister with anyone.

“Are you saying no?” She asked in shock, slamming the book shut and throwing it onto the coffee table. She stood up above me, hands on hips and her pretty head cocked to one side. Like a vulture she circled my prostrated form, eying me all the time in shock that I would disobey her. Finally she seemed to calm down, and with full composure she sat down on the coffee table just in front of me. I noticed her blonde hair hung ever so cutely over her shoulders, and if I hadn’t felt the way I did about her it would be laughable to ever imagine I’d obey such a small girl. But, we were both aware of my weakness, and without hesitating she raised her right foot and circled my lips with her toe. It was so affectionate and teasing, as if she was slowly winding away any resistance. My lips were pushed and pulled carelessly as she edged her toes between, eventually breaking through and settling on my tongue. Though, before I could catch a taste they were gone, teasingly hovering over my mouth, but never allowing me to fully enjoy.

She leant forward, slipping her soft palm over my breast and gently caressing, while her luscious foot continued to playfully dance over my lips. I could feel myself growing wet as she manipulated my nipple with her fingertip, softly drawing little circles while delicately squeezing with the rest. I thought about trying to resist, but it was no use as she gradually coaxed my nipple to stiffen. I gasped as she slipped her thumb and finger around my erect nipple, then harshly tweaked and twisted. From the look on her face she found the resulting yelp most pleasing, but I wasn’t going to give in that easily.

“Yes, I won’t do it.” I confirmed in fake assertiveness from beneath her toes, surprising both myself and my sister. I’d looked towards the ceiling to avoid eye contact while disobeying her, but also due to my embarrassment with her fondling of my breasts.

Like the princess she had now become, she was completely unfazed by my resilience, and as she had done before, she resorted to a tried and tested method of forcing me to comply. Her foot drew back, allowing me to take in the full seriousness of her face as she spoke “So you want me to tell mum about everything? How you get off on my feet?”

I couldn’t answer her question, not that it needed one anyway as we both knew I had no choice. She kept up the attention with her toes, breaking down my resistance with each penetration of my lips. I tried with all of my energy to resist the feelings deep within, but with every passing second I found my efforts crumbling. Finally I caved at her other foot, as it slipped between my legs and began to stroke my inner thigh. Her toes were teasing, and the caressing sent a shudder through my body. I expected, and secretly hoped that her foot would explore further, but she kept it frustratingly out of reach of my most tender spot. Through gritted teeth I looked at her pleadingly, silently begging her for a release, but she remained stubborn throughout. Her look was stern and expecting, patiently waiting for me to give in to her wishes while she manipulated me with her feet. Her eyebrows were raised, an obvious sign of her expectancy for me to break and agree to betray my friend. It was the lowest point of my life when I nodded against her foot, bringing a smile across her deceivingly sweet face.

“I know you’ll do it Ali, you’re my good little girl. Anyway, it’s your fault. You’ve made me realise that I’m a princess, and I should be treated accordingly.” She said, tapping my nose with her toe. She stood up from the table and flattened out her skirt with the palms of both hands, then grabbing a bunch of my hair she pulled me to my knees before her. I looked up adoringly as she patted my head like the puppy I was, before she swayed her hips, thumping my cheek with her bum and knocking me over. Then off she went giggling away to herself, having gotten her way once again and leaving me on the floor as a sexual wreck.

After she left, I climbed back to my knees pathetically, ashamed at how easily she could manipulate me. Betraying Susan would be the lowest of the low, even by my recent standards. I knew for sure that she wasn’t a lesbian and there was no way that she’d participate willingly, even if she thought she was helping me. But, the idea of her kneeling next to me before Tiffany, both of us kissing a foot each almost blew my mind. Reducing my best friend to slave status at the demand of my younger sister was something that I would have never considered before recent events. The arrogant snotty little brat had changed me; she had me wrapped around her little finger. She knew that she could get me to do whatever she wanted, and probably demand that I beg for it too. I hated the way she could control me with her feet. The smell, taste and even as a simple visual, everything about them resulted in submission on my part. It was so unfair! As I thought about it I slipped a hand between my legs, trying in earnest to satisfy my aching @#%$.

My eyes closed as I neared my orgasm, and just before I exploded I came to a decision. My mind was made up, but there was just one problem:

How the hell was I supposed to get Susan involved?