To The Victor, The Spoils

In the end, my body betrays me, in more ways than one. I can't deny that the energy coursing through me is arousal, that the idea of being slowly choked into submission is making me slick, that I want to feel my own resistance fade as Slava stomps out my will.

And then, there's her promise. Is this the reason why she's kept me at arm's length for a month? To prime me for this moment, make me desperate, make me beg for it?

I nod my head in agreement, unable to utter a single word as Slava's hold continues to tighten.

But Slava is not done.

"Anastasia, I know you better than you know yourself. You're an open book to me. And I'm going to show you."

I want to say please, but I can't. As my breath becomes constricted, I can feel the tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. I realise that my life has changed forever. I'm stuck in this position, both physically and emotionally. It feels like a dream coming true.

Slava's grip loosens by a tiny bit, and I realise she's doing it to allow me to talk. Such fine level of control overawes me. She doesn't even need to keep me in this state, but every moment we spend like this is a moment where she proves a point.

"Okay," I say.

It's not a word. It's an incredibly faint whisper, barely audible, all I can manage with her legs mastering my airways. It's a sound that says that I concede. That I accept my taming.

That she can reshape me.

Slava lets out a satisfied laugh as she loosens her grip on me. I cough and wheeze, trying to catch my breath, as she says, "Good girl. Now, go make us breakfast."

I nod silently, rising to my feet. I walk over to the kitchen, my mind a blur of thoughts and emotions. My own sister has just... claimed me. She says she wants to show me. What does that mean? Does it mean what I hope, what I fear?

I carry the tray of breakfast into the living room and put it on the table. Slava is sitting on the couch, looking like a self-assured queen with one leg crossed over the other. My insecurities make me feel small as I turn to her and signal that breakfast is ready.

"Like I said, little sister," she says with a smile playing on her lips. "I know exactly what you want. What you need. But it will happen on my terms."

Her socked foot bobs up and down expectantly.

One last time, a part of me tries to stave off the inevitable. She's my sister, this is wrong, I can't do this. It's messed up to want this.

But the voice is feeble and distant, like it, too, was snuffed out by Slava's grip, along with my resistance.

As my knees begin to bend, I feel like I'm tilting over, falling head-first into the abyss. When they hit the floor, they do so with a thud of profound meaning and significance.

I take her naked foot in my trembling hands and bringing it to my forehead as a sign of respect.

"I am honoured," I say in a soft voice. "Big sister."

I lower the foot once more, cradling it in my hands like it's precious and delicate, slowly and tentatively exploring it with my fingers. It's the first time I've ever held someone's foot like that, let alone my sister's, but I can't deny that it looks beautiful. The way her toes are perfectly proportioned, the curve leading from her sole to her heel, the elegance of her ankle. The smooth skin between the ankle and the toes.

I've never given a massage before, and I don't even know where to start... but somehow, softly rubbing and kneading her foot with my fingertips feels right. It's soft under my touch, except the heel, which feels unyielding under my thumbs. I realise my lips are parted in fascination.

"That's it," Slava says, sinking back into the sofa. "Now show me how much you appreciate the fact that I'm letting you do this for me."

Letting me do it? That sounds as preposterous as it does humiliating. My cheeks redden, because of course I have to admit that on some level, she's right. I want to do this. I continue to massage her foot, thinking about how she's making me feel small and insignificant. I can't deny that this is the closest I've ever felt to her... and to my true self.

"You know," she says, her voice a purr. "I might have to make this a regular thing. A little appreciation for all the times I let you borrow my notes and help you out with your studies."

I can feel my face turn red as I realise she has me completely in her control. But I continue massaging her foot, feeling grateful for the chance to be close to her, to experience this humbling, psychologically redefining experience.

While I massage one foot, she lifts the other in the air, nonchalantly placing it atop my head. I shudder as I feel her toes digging into my scalp, and I wince slightly. I try to focus on giving the best foot massage I can, but the sensation is overwhelming. What could possibly be more humiliating? The lowest part of her, ceremoniously placed atop the highest part of me.

Slava continues to speak, her voice calm and controlled, "From now on, you'll do anything I say. You'll worship the ground I walk on. You'll be my loyal servant, and in return, I'll allow you to bask in my presence."

I nod obediently, knowing I have no choice but to comply with her demands. The thought of disobeying her sends shivers down my spine, as does the picture she's painting in her words. I'll be allowed to bask in the presence of my own sister? A few weeks ago, that would have sounded nonsensical, to the point of madness. So why does it make so much sense to me now?

"Good girl," Slava says, with a satisfied nod. "Now, it's time to show you..."

I watch in rapt fascination as she withdraws her foot from my hands. Then, she lifts it in the air, until it's level with my face... and begins to move it closer.

The first time her naked foot makes contact with my face, I feel every muscle in my body tremble. Humiliation and arousal ripple downward, from my brain and right into my pussy. In this moment, my face is acting as the ground, on the receiving end of Slava's soles. That's how far low I've fallen, humiliated and reduced.

I press myself against the sole, rubbing my cheek against it like I'm just Slava's little kitten. The other foot ruffles my hair, and I find myself panting, desperately wanting more.

She's my sister, and I can't, but that only makes it hotter.

Slava pauses for a moment, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she thinks about the possibilities.

"Kiss it," she says.

I don't need her to ask twice.

My first thought is how smooth the skin of her foot feels, against my lips. I wonder how I could have ever thought of feet as disgusting -- because Slava's foot is pristine and beautiful. Kissing it feels like an act of reverence, a prayer to a deity.

My second thought is how significant a moment this is. It can never be taken back. I, Anastasia, have knelt down to kiss my sister's feet. This is the kind of woman I am now, the kind of woman I always will be.

Soon, the room is quiet, save for the sound of my slavish kisses, as I explore every inch of Slava's foot, from the ankle to the toes. When I get there, my smooches become more daring, with my lips spread softly around her big toe.

Slava seizes the opportunity. The foot on my head pushes down, just as the one before me is lifted up. Before I know it, her big toe is pushing its way past my lips, resting onto my tongue.

I lower my head, feeling the weight of Slava's foot pressing against my scalp. "You know what this means, Anastasia," she says, her voice taking on a more serious tone. "Show me."

For a moment, I kneel there, not sure what to do next, what this means. But then, gears begin to shift. I'm kneeling before her, her big toe in my mouth, one foot firmly planted atop my head. It occurs to me, only now, just how... sexual this position is.

That makes me quiver with the thrill of shame, taboo, humiliation... and defeat.

She's my sister, and it's wrong, and I can't. And yet, I will.

"Just do what comes natural," Slava says, and I do. I swirl my tongue around her big toe, like I've done for my boyfriends in the past when I was pleasuring them. I form a tiny seal around her toe, suctioning as hard as I can, eliciting a satisfied moan from her. Then, I gently begin to move my head up and down.

Soon, I lose all control of that movement, as Slava's foot begins to regulate my pace to her liking. I piston up and down, my head bobbing, my dignity crumbling more and more with each new motion. I'm giving my sister's foot a blowjob. I'm on my knees for her. I don't even get to control my pace. She'll just have her way with me, because she's smarter, and so much stronger.

One at a time, Slava's other toes join the big toe in my mouth. She looks on, curious and fascinated, as she methodically and mercilessly inserts them one at a time, stretching my lips more and more. It's not just the act itself that it's hot, it's what it feels like.

Slava is toying with me like a predator does with fresh prey, marvelling at my inability to resist. Every muted plea for mercy in my eyes is ignored, as she meticulously disarticulates every last vestige of my dignity, turning my mouth into a warm receptacle for her foot. Metaphorically, she has me pinned down, dismantling piece by piece. Just like the two times she's beaten me.

Then, I feel the other foot pressing down against my scalp. With no balance and no leverage, I find myself falling, with only the carpet to soften my landing. I grunt as I hit the ground, but Slava is relentless. The foot that pushed me down is now entirely pressed against my cheek, the heel digging in, the toes wiggling.

The other slithers once more past my lips with no opposition. It feels slick and warm with my own saliva as I welcome it back into my mouth, suckling gently at it. I can't believe it. I've never even had a foot fetish, and now Slava's foot is basically acting as a pacifier on me, making me feel all docile and compliant.

In this new position, my head is pressed against the floor by one foot, while the other continues to unceremoniously facefuck me.

Slava's heel grinds a little against my cheek, as if to prove a point. "Stay there," she says in an imperious tone. I mumble my submissive agreement, which only makes her laugh.

"God, you're so fucking pathetic," she says. "I could tell from the first time I floored you, that you weren't really interested in the remote. That's so wrong, perving on your own sister."

I squeal around her feet, in desperate and mercy-seeking humiliation and arousal. It's all true, I crave her touch, I need her grip to tighten. I wonder what other taboos might fall next. I think back to my face underneath her as she pinned me, the way the crotch of her jeans seemed to hover just inches from my lips back then, and I wonder... and yearn... and fantasise...

But like she's said, any such interaction will happen on her terms. My only recourse is to wait, find out... and comply with her desires.

"You never wanted a rematch. You just wanted to be put in your place again."

I mumble gently around the foot in my mouth. I'm not sure if it's agreement or not, but at this point, it doesn't really matter.

"Well, let me guarantee you something, little sister," Slava says, in a husky voice I've never heard her use before. "You are never going to rise again."

The words go straight to my clit, and I emit a throaty moan around the foot I'm busy sucking. As I gaze up at her, I feel a strange sense of awe. She's always been beautiful and confident, but now she seems even more commanding. I know I'm at her mercy. I know I'm hers, forever.

I keep my lips tightly wrapped around her foot, as if I were paying homage to a higher power. This is what lies at the bottom of the abyss, then. This is who I really am, under all those layers of personality, under the thin, civilised exterior that I used to pretend coincided with my identity. It never did.

I'm a slut. A foot slut for my own sister.

I don't know what's going through Slava's mind, but I doubt it's as profound as my own epiphany. In fact, she seems to lose interest in me. She leans back against the couch, with the foot resting on my face now shifting to a more comfortable position.

Then, the TV behind me flickers to life.

For a moment, I don't know whether to consider this hilarious, or hot. But my messed-up mind leans towards the latter. This all started with a dispute over what to watch on TV. Now, a month and change later, I'll never have a say in which channel is on, ever again.

I lie there, performing my ministrations while Slava relaxes, enjoying the fruits of her victory. I'm just an object for her now, a footrest, a toewarmer, my mouth turned into a holster for her foot. This is her wind-down moment, and I do not feature. And I like it that way.

I know that this is only the beginning of a long journey, and that there is much more to come in terms of serving her. But for now, I am content to bask in the glow of her presence and do my best to please her in any way she deems fit.

After all...

Isn't that the highest duty of a little sister?