The Thrill of Defeat Ch. 12: Epilogue

Epilogue: A Lasting Conquest

The life of a slave is a dark planet's orbit, revolving around a beautiful, uncaring sun. And there is no arguing with gravity.

Most free people have their own form of centering, of course. Work, routine, hobbies, scheduled entertainment. But those things are flexible, and can evolve over time.

When you're a slave, though, the days blend into one another. You wake up and go to bed at consistent times, perform the same chores over and over -- and you simply cannot stray. The rules are enforced from outside. You have no control.

The only fixed point, the only anchor, is the owner's will.

Living like this dulls your intellect, it makes you something less than human... but at this point, I'm starting to make my peace with it. Anbar does always tell me I was born stupid, and simply had a misguided sense of my own intelligence when I thought myself free.

Perhaps more importantly, I am less than human... so this state of affairs suits me just fine. I look at the upside: life as a slave is a life of certainty. I have no responsibility, except do my owners' bidding.

There definitely is a downside though, and not one you might expect. When change does arrive, it's sudden, unstoppable -- your owners mandate it, after all -- and you have no choice except take it in stride.

It's been a few days since the last time I've been in direct contact with Alia or Anbar's feet -- although strangely, Yasmin still uses me as her foot girl whenever she fancies, and of course I submit without protest.

Like I said, change. No explanation has been offered, no reason given. It is not my place to ask or question, of course. I am the sisters' slave, and this makes them my anchor point. If they want me away from their feet for a while, then of course I will comply.

Like chunks of space debris, orbiting a distant sun, I'm a slave to my orbit. I pale into insignificance, next to the radiance of the stars. So I keep to my schedule, and wait for Alia or Anbar to tell me what's going on.

It's not like my routine isn't full as it is, especially now that Alina expects full control over me at work. I let it absorb me in full, and wait for time to pass, and for the other shoe to drop... so to speak.

When eventually it does, even my slavish composure threatens to vacillate. I do my best to look submissive and receptive, open for instructions, as is expected of me... but I'm nervous.

The summoning takes place in Alia's room, strangely -- not Anbar's, where so many fateful moments of my transformation have taken place. The old Zainab might have figured out what this clue hints at, but that person no longer exists.

Still, I wonder. What do Alia and Anbar have in mind? Well, I suppose I will find out soon either way, it's not like I have a choice.

On the plus side, this does mean there is no lingering, overpowering foot scent, so I can still think with a modicum of clarity. Or as much as I can muster, when in the presence of my two conquerors.

I kneel before my Goddess and my Queen, and obediently await their pronouncements.

Alia crosses one leg over the other, her angelic face resting on her chin. She contemplates me with a mixture of amusement and contempt. There has never been so much distance between us.

She's a vision of radiant femininity, and I'm just chattel.

"You love me, slave," she says, batting her eyelashes instantly. I know Alia expects full and utter devotion at all times, so I gulp, trying to somehow kneel even lower than I already do, and profess my feelings for her.

"I do, Your Majesty," I say in a rapt whisper. "With all my heart."

That causes Anbar to guffaw at my display. "We certainly don't love you back!"

"No we don't. That goes without saying," Alia says, matter-of-factly. But the glint of amusement in her eyes belies her indifference. She loves seeing the emotional pain etched on my face.

"But we deserve your undying worship and devotion, no matter what we do to you. Isn't that right?"

I narrow my eyes, but only for a moment. This is a very strange line of questioning Alia has taken. Yes, she wants to be showered in adoration, but she perfectly knows these things to be true. I feel like I'm being set up for something...

Even so, there is no alternative to obedience. I hang my head low in defeat. "Yes, Your Majesty. No matter how many things you t-t-take... I will always, always love you."

"It's only right," Alia says, and there's some steel in her voice now, reminding me she is as beautiful as she is terrible. But then, she makes a show of mellowing out. "I'll be very open and honest with you, Zainab. I want something from you, and you're going to hate it. But you'll do it anyway, because you love me."

I swallow, trying to keep my breathing steady. I... I genuinely don't even know what else Alia could possibly take from me. She draws it out, teasing me with her amused eyes, with the way her foot bobs up and down.

Then, she spills the beans.

"I want you to drop out of college for me."

It's such a simple, unassuming line. It's delivered with such perfect innocence. But it hits me like an earthquake.

All of a sudden, things I haven't even thought about in so long resurface again. College. I was a promising student, once. I had friends there, once. I interacted with people who saw me as an equal.

Shock courses through me. This is the last week before finals! I've been neglecting my college career for months as I slave away for the sisters, but even so, this final request, so outrageous, so cruel, so...

Hot...

Who am I fooling? Did I really think I would ever be allowed to cling to college? Anbar is right, I'm so stupid, I deserve everything that's happening to me.

My captors have deliberately destroyed every aspect of my life they could get their hands on, why would this be any different? I won't be allowed to go and find a job, have a career. That would be too much like being free.

I've busted my ass all my life for college... and that's precisely why Alia wants me to give it up. For love, she says. Devotion. Worship.

"All those countless hours burning the midnight oil..." Alia whispers, as if reading my mind. "Offer them up to me, slave. Like a religious sacrifice to your true deity."

Absurdly, I find myself wishing she'd stick a foot in my face, let me breathe myself stupid. That would dull the pain and my senses, it would drown my brain in morass, make it easier to destroy the last bit of independent life that I will ever know.

But neither Alia nor Anbar offer their feet to me. All I'm given is Alia's phone.

"I've already dialled the administration office. Just make the call."

She's going to make me do this on the spot. I can see her biting her bottom lip with a mischievous smirk on her face as she's savoring this moment, where she is almost literally trampling my very soul into the dirt.

God, I love her so much...

I can only imagine what the stunned administration worker might tell me - such a promising student dropping out just inches away from the finish line. My fingers tremble as I hold the phone in my hands, the harbinger of my downfall.

But a slave's life is fixed around certain anchor points. It is the orbit of a dark planet around a beautiful, uncaring sun.

There's no arguing with gravity... there is only the orbit.

And so, holding back a heartbroken sob, I press my thumb into the phone screen, and shiver at the sound on speaker as the call begins to ring.

***

The life of a slave is set between certain pressure points. Most typically, the slave's superiors.

Sitting in the audience at the graduation ceremony, my heart broken into a thousand pieces and my soul flayed raw, I find myself flanked by Anbar and Sanae.

A hammer and an anvil.

Were it not for them -- my pressure points -- I would be bawling my eyes out already. In truth, Alia would probably want me to, although Anbar always finds it annoying. But the mere idea of their judgement makes me compose myself.

Aren't I lucky, being able to count on my owners even in such a terrible situation?

Dejectedly I watch as Alia, Yasmin, and all the other cohorts approach the podium, receive their diplomas, and shake the headmaster's hand.

I was supposed to be up there with them, having all my hard work bear fruit and be celebrated today.

Instead, I'm sitting in the crowd, and sticking out like a sore thumb too. I stink, and my buzzcut and the untanned print of Yasmin's feet on my face make me look ridiculous.

To make it all worse, Anbar demanded that I wear my fast food chain work uniform -- an instruction that Alia enthusiastically endorsed. This way, everyone here -- my professors, the students, the parents -- everyone will know what I do for a living now.

My lips quiver in pain as I am, once again, cruelly confronted with the fact that Alia has truly taken everything from me. Everything.

Meanwhile, Alia herself, as well as even my princess Yasmin (who I once thought didn't even deserve to get into college in the first place, let alone actually graduate) celebrate their academic success. The end of their lives as students.

My life as a student has ended too, if in an altogether different way. Nothing remains of who I was before. I'm just a self-aware toy for girls' feet, pressed into a thin sliver of consciousness that has no room for ambition, individuality, or dignity... but only for service.

I know there's so much potential for Alia to inflict further cruelty upon me here. I know my captor, and I know she won't miss the opportunity. She hasn't missed any so far, even when I thought there couldn't possibly be anything else she could do to me.

She's a genius when it comes to hurting people. How fucked up is it that the very idea tugs at my heartstrings with such force?

When her turn comes to deliver her speech, Alia scans the crowd. Her clever eyes settle on me, glittering with pride, joy, and above all... amusement.

"I just want to say a few words," she says, the mic giving her voice an even more innocent and crystalline quality. God, even her pitch is perfect... she really has everything in life handed to her on a silver platter.

Myself included.

"I want to really, really thank my best friend. She's been here for me through all these four years, and I could have never done it without her."

And then, she turns to Yasmin. And my heart breaks all over again.

The two girls embrace tightly, and in doing so, they rotate in place, so that each has an opportunity in turn to look my way, flashing me the cruelest of smiles.

After they disentangle, Alia grabs the mic again.

"I also want to thank Zainab! She's right here in the audience -- there you are, silly!"

My heart drops and my face goes pale with pure terror. Anbar elbows me in the ribs to my right, and I hear Sanae chuckle coldly to my left, but it's everyone else in the room I'm worried about.

If there was the slightest chance people hadn't figured out who I am, it's been obliterated now. There can be no more doubts.

I'm the weird, nerdy girl who dropped out and literally disappeared just inches away from the finish line. I signed up for student loans and then quit at the last minute. And I'm here in a fast food uniform.

"I really appreciate all the sacrifices you've made for me so far... and all those you'll make in the future," Alia continues. "All the services rendered, so that I could focus on studying..."

Alia lets the sentence tail off, and it's all I can do not to shake in place at the shiver that goes through me.

Her voice seems to drift away as she looks away from me, wrapping up her speech with the usual pleasantries. I gasp at the breath I suddenly feel at my ear.

Anbar is leaning close to me.

"That could have been you standing up there," Anbar whispers to me. "You, with an entire, fulfilling life ahead of you. Instead, you've let my sister and I absolutely ruin your life."

I stifle a sob. I swear Sanae is openly chuckling to herself now. "I'm so proud of my daughter," she suddenly says out loud, talking to a neighbor to her left. I have a distinct feeling it's not the graduation she's talking about.

Undeterred, Anbar continues, leaning even closer to me.

"You've let us turn you into our sock-smelling, shoe-licking, floor-cleaning, foot-sucking slave."

That's when, at last, the pressure points prove too much. The levee breaks.

One tear follows another, until eventually I find myself crying my heart out, bending over to contain the sobs and avoid making any noises. I should be quiet and composed, submissive and unheard, even in my despair.

I would never do anything that might spoil Alia's special day, after all...

***

The life of a slave is full of tests.

At this point, I almost think of it like an obstacle course. Alia, Anbar, and Yasmin find endless entertainment in my continued debasement.

But if I can survive each instance, pull through, and please them, then life returns to normal, eventually.

For a given definition of normal, of course. My normal is the comforting simplicity of cleaning the bathroom, fetching things, kissing feet...

But even I have to admit, this particular obstacle is bigger than others.

What hurts the most about meeting Paula and Eric again is the way their eyes linger on my nametag, to make sure that it really is me.

I can't blame them. I barely recognize myself in the mirror, after all. I'm fatter and disheveled, I sport a buzzcut and bear Yasmin's literal footprints on my forehead. And if my looks are unrecognizable, what to say of my actions?

The disbelief in their looks is palpable when they read my nametag. They're forced to conclude that this really is me. That I've really done something so insane as quit my education this week. I see confusion and hurt in their eyes, and in turn, that pains me, too.

They were my friends, once. I know they'd still like to be that, but Alia will never allow me to have any connections with peers. It would make me uppity, give me ideas.

I'm all too aware of this as she stands next to me, nursing a drink, receiving one compliment after another with a radiant -- but fake -- smile and waving people away. Like a queen, routinely passing through supplicants.

Her focus is on me, her toy. And on Paula and Eric, as they struggle for words here in the courtyard, outside campus.

At last, it's Eric that finds the courage to speak. It doesn't surprise me -- Paula keeps eyeing Alia, whom she hates, but finds so intimidating. Eric has no such concerns -- he literally couldn't care less about her, I know.

"Zainab," he says, widening his arms in evident exasperation. "What happened? Why would you do something so insane?"

Emboldened by Eric's courage, Paula throws one last look at Alia, then turns to face me, biting her lower lip in embarassment. "We, uh... saw the photos. You know, on social media. On Yasmin's profile, I mean, since you obviously..."

Before I blocked them at Anbar's direction, of course. I don't know what I find more devastating, the idea that my friends saw me act as Yasmin's doormat for her birthday party, or that they can't possibly explain why I would randomly block them on social media...

My lips quiver, and it takes all my strength to hold back the tears. Words fail me. What could I possibly tell them? That I'm sorry, but slavery to Alia's feet takes precedence over everything else in my life?

Anbar told me to block you, so I just obeyed -- nothing personal?

There is nothing to say, for me or for them. I can't justify the wretched excuse of a person I am.

"Just talk to us," Eric says, encouraging. "We can help, I know we can."

That makes my chest squeeze. He -- they care about me, in a way that Alia never did. How many times did they ask me why I put up with such a cruel, selfish person? How many times did they encourage me to focus on my ambitions?

And that was before I became a slave, too!

The problem is, great friends they may be, but... I don't love them. I do love Alia, and everything she does to me. I know this love was forced unto me, but I can't undo that anymore. My place is at her feet.

Before I can answer, Alia barges in, immediately establishing that I'm a mere accessory in this conversation.

Throwing her hair back in a show of pride and regality, she smirks in Eric's direction. "Zainab is so desperately in love with me that she'd do absolutely anything to make me happy, Eric. And I do mean anything."

I see the disdain in my Mistress' eyes. Eric and Paula, they're of too low a social extraction for her, she wouldn't touch them with a ten-foot pole. Even so, she gives them a smug, beaming smile -- one that never reaches her eyes -- before turning to me.

"Tell them why you're here."

For a split second, I'm almost tempted to plead with Alia, to beg her to please let me off the hook this one time. But that too would be an admission in front of Eric and Paula, wouldn't it?

And besides... a slave's life is full of tests. There's no point struggling. The easier course of action is just taking it, no matter what's required.

So I turn to face my former friends, my cheeks burning red from my humiliation. And then, I launch into the confession Alia wants to hear.

"You guys don't need to worry about me," I say, in a shrill voice that fails to sound entirely convincing. "I just prefer Alia to you, it's all."

I take a second to let that sink in, see the shock and hurt on their faces, before I resume speaking -- faster and faster, to deny them a chance to duck out of the conversation immediately. And also to sound more firm in my statements.

"I love and adore Alia with all my heart," I say, back straight, face deadpan and serious. "I don't need an education, so long as I can spend my life at Alia's feet, serving her every whim."

My friends' eyes are bulging out of their orbits at this point, and who could blame them? They must feel like this is a practical joke, and they're on camera, or something. But no, this is all true. And my work is not yet done.

"I'm so grateful, every day, for the sacrifices Alia allows me to make for her," I add. "I'm happier being her bitch than I ever was when I was free."

"That's, huh..." Eric says, shaking his head, while Paula just stares at me like I've gone insane. "G-good for you? I... guess?"

"Haha, that was priceless!" Alia says, stepping closer to me. "But I think your friends here need a better demonstration of your new lifestyle. Heel, doggy."

There is no room for doubt, hesitation, or even shame. I drop to my knees so fast that they hurt against the cold marble of the courtyard, but the pain is a mere detail. I bend over, prostrating myself at Alia's feet.

At least I can't see Eric and Paula's faces from here... but I can hear their horrified gasps when I press my lips to the tip of Alia's glossy black heels, suctioning wantonly, making out with them.

By the time I start gently fellating the tip of Alia's shoe, there is nothing but cold silence around me. Eventually, footsteps break the quiet. I can hear them receding, and I know it's the sound of Eric and Paula -- two people who genuinely cared for me -- walking out of my life, forever.

In a way, I know, my old life is walking away with them. Even so, I don't look up to watch them go.

***

The life of a slave overwhelms the senses.

But not this time.

As we get out of Sanae's car, I know immediately to get back on all fours in the driveway. Alia's neighbors might see me, but I'm long past caring. Making out with Alia's shoe outside campus has really put such things in perspective for me.

The tarmac feels warm and rough under my hands, but I wait patiently, like a good domesticated pet. Sanae, Alia, and Anbar ignore me, chatting among themselves about Alia's special day, and leaving me alone with my thoughts.