Losing Myself to My Sister

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 pussy 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 had 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 wasnt 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 I 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 on the ball of her foot, using the tip of my tongue to apply a firm pressure.

"That's it, clean my feet," Tiffany moaned 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 afterthought.

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 shorts.

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 shorts. 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 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.

Tiffany's 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 mom 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 did not 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 had not 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 involuntary 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, whereas I was working my butt off in the kitchen. It was only two in the afternoon, and I had 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 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 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 bolder and more 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 as 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 to you," she said, 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 mom. 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 ten 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 passed, 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 drawer 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 came to terms with my sexuality.

The drawer 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.