Losing Myself to My Sister

"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 the 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 watched 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 had 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.

"Mom, 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." Thankfully my mother failed to take 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 mom, 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 pussy 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 about 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 train 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 mom." She made sure to emphasize the threat by crossing her arms and looking annoyingly smug.

"Okay. Okay!" 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 mom, 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 icky?" she stuttered out, sounding 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, Ali?" 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 mom. 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 looked at her watch and muttered the words as if they were an afterthought.

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 in 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 while impatiently peering over my shoulder, "Did you clean my room?"

Straight to the point is what I thought, however all I could manage to squeeze out was a pitiful, "Yes, Tiffany."

"Okay, 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 Id 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. "Okay, 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, please?"

"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 onto 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. "Nevermind..." I muttered, trying to retract my request and play it off as a joke.

"No, it's 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.