*It has been 2 years since my last post. The story does somewhat pick up on past events, but time has passed here too. If you haven’t read parts 1-4 yet, they’re listed below. I hope you like, and I’m sorry it took so long!*
I struggled to breathe as my cheek was once again ground into the carpet, my lips grazing against the soft fabric. A smell that was all too familiar seeping into my nostrils. I was sure that there would be a carpet burn after today’s “session”. Only two things made any of this okay..
The first was that my fiancé, Emili, was gone for work training for an entire week. There was no fear of her entering at any second. There were no sounds from across the house, making me fear for the safety of my relationship of my upcoming marriage the following year. Any kind of markings or evidence would be healed or disposed of by then.
The second was that the newfound pleasure of my life was what was grinding my cheek into the carpet – the sole of Shiann’s beautiful foot. The heel of her right foot was pressed deeply into the small of my neck, and her toes were draped across my cheek. My breath was returned to me as her left foot eased off wherever it was in my body that my lungs were internally. The release in pressure on my back only served to apply more of it to the back of my neck and skull.
But it was all okay. My rock-solid cock was straining against the thin fabric of my boxers – the only article of clothing I was wearing – as the 114-pound goddess who owned my life (and possessed my credit card) stood on me, one foot on my back, the other pressing its toes against my lips as she stood on my head. A very curious predicament indeed. It made it worse that it had been three weeks since my last release to Shiann, in the driver’s seat of my car – the stain was a bitch to get out of my upholstery, I will add. Despite my lack of release, this reckless and seemingly meaningless spending had my net worth roughly $300 lower. And dropping.
Shiann’s soles wrinkled against my cheek and her sweaty toes once again dipped into my mouth. The pain seared through me as I wondered my head might crush under the pressure, but she followed through on her sweeping motion to stand on the floor next to my head. From my position – prone on my stomach with my head crooked to the side to allow Shiann’s toes access to my mouth – I looked up at her, in all her glory. Her long, flowing brown hair draping down over either shoulder, perfectly accentuating her small A-cup tits in the Celine sports bra that I know the digits of my credit card had been swiped for (look up a Celine sports bra’s price tag at your own fucking risk…) Oh, I almost forgot to subtract that from my net worth. I did say it was dropping…
My eyes continued down her beautiful, skinny pale body. Her short-shorts that clung tightly to her hips that were thicker than a girl that skinny had any right to be. And to her feet, perfectly pedicured (another Samuel-sponsored purchase) with a matte-black polish on the toes. She leaned forward, giggling quietly, her hands pressing against her knees which I’m sure pushed her (again, amazing though small) ass out behind her. My eyes went to hers and she shook her head. “See, Samuel? I told you you would be worth much more to me on the fucking ground.” She scoffed, before continuing, “I can see your pathetic, hard cock squished down there between your thighs. Are you actually hard from being used as a floor mat? How fucking pathetic are you?”
I averted my eyes to the carpet. Her big toe was in my mouth in an instant, as far back as she could get it. She lifted her foot and the force nearly twisted my neck. I yelped in pain around her toenail. I should have known that wasn’t a rhetorical question.
“Since you can’t answer when spoken to, I’m going to punish you again.” I readied myself for the weight of her stepping down on me again, but it didn’t come. Instead, a dim light was suddenly in my face. Shiann held her phone inches from my nose, her toe still holding my head up by my cheek. My eyes quickly adjusted and I could see an Amazon page… with a $110 vibrator in the shopping cart.
The wondered of yet another fucking charge to that card that I’d have to hide from Emili sent a shock from my stomach to the roof of my skull. That feeling, however, was instantly overcome by the shame of disappointing Shiann. Merely removing my thoughts from purchasing for her what she deserved filled me with more shame than the entire time of cheating on my fiancé did. My sanity had taken a pummeling these last few months. Somehow, the fear of breaking the heart of my future-forever life partner by sucking on her bratty sister’s wonderful gorgeous toes and buying the indescribable goddess who had broken my psyche into a million shards of glass whatever she wanted…
“My boyfriend is having me over again tonight. I want to show him I bought a toy for us to use. That always gets his dick so hard. I want you to think about how your credit card is going to get me fucked tonight, again, while you sit around with fucking blue balls.” The force of her toe in my mouth was suddenly increased, as she used the motion of her leg and my own grip on her toe to twist my neck until I rolled onto my back. She looked down at my boxers that were doing all they could to conceal my raging hard on and bulging blue balls, and scoffed. I looked down and saw the growing wet spot of precum. Shiann shook her head in disgust before leaving to meet Twelve Inch Tim.
The boyfriend wasn’t a new development. It had been 2 months since Shiann had initially taken my credit card. In that time, she’d hooked up with some Tinder fuck boy and wasted no time disgusting her sister by regaling all of her sex stories about “Twelve Inch Tim” under the pretense of a secret sister talk, but at all times within earshot of me. I was insanely jealous. She had likely had more sex since Monday than I’d had in the past two months, and it was only Wednesday.
Did I resent Emili? No, I didn’t. The relationship was wonderfully fulfilling in every fashion besides sexually. But I’d jerk off with my “allowance” pressed against my nose the past two nights thinking about her little sister’s moaning while getting fucked by a twelve-inch cock. When I say “allowance”, of course I mean the single sock that Shiann gives me once per week and tells me that, if I’m a good boy, the next sock she’ll wear at work an extra day. And when I say jerk off, of course I mean I edge myself as near as completion to feasible before stopping and gonna bed. As proof I hadn’t completed my orgasm, I’d deliver her sock to her the following day, and she’d check to make sure there was no cum in it, threatening to end the allowance if there ever was. She never explicitly told me I had to cum only in the sock, and never explained why that was the only place I checked. But I never did. Because I’m a very good boy. Her good boy.
Six months later…
I grimaced as I ran my credit card. The man at the counter congratulated me once again for my marriage, before handing me the tuxedo I had rented months prior. I carefully rested the tuxedo in the backseat of my car, before entering the driver-side and letting out an exasperated sigh.
Life had been unexpectedly difficult, attempting to pay for a rapidly approaching wedding while paying for things for Shiann. I expected a lack of funds. For almost a year now (eight months and twenty-five days) I’d essentially been Shiann’s sole financer. Excuse the pun. What I did not expect, was the lack of.. attention I received. The sessions had all but stopped. I was lucky if I got an allowance once a week. I wasn’t told I could cum, either. So, yeah, I couldn’t even jerk off to the wondered of her soles.
Perhaps Shiann was truly a bitch, taking benefit of her leverage over me to maintain a profit. Her hours at work were rarely over 25 hours, but she never went without. I had no clue how Emili hadn’t noticed my funds consistently draining, despite my caution. Shiann’s nearly bi-weekly “Samuellll” text message that was at all times proceeded by a Cash App request did not stop. But daily sock allowances had, as had regular sessions. I’m ashamed to even think this, but I was disappointed that my only orgasms in the last 6 months had come from my fiancé. With that sentence, I’m surely gonna hell…
Perhaps she was truly developing feelings for Tim. Their relationship had certainly blossomed. By that, I mean that she began to use my money to take him to nice restaurants. Emili had been so proud of her sister for going on her first date, with her hard-earned cash. That was nearly impossible to stomach when Emili had said it. Still, the foot worship sessions we did have occasionally were interrupted by calls from men. I could tell they were men by Shiann’s demeanor, and the sounds of her vibrator going off as the conversation continued and developed into moans. The thing was, these calls came at times I personally knew Tim was working overtime.
Perhaps she was experiencing empathy for her sister. This one was the hardest to believe by far, as nothing about her demeanor led me to believe she had any empathy to start with. She was more than happy to sneak around, accepting foot rubs from me. Granted, no other part of her had ever touched my cock. Strictly her hands and beautiful feet. And no part of me had ever touched any part of her, apart from full body massages that tended to stick to her lower-half and her shoulders. I’d never complain, she beyond satiated my kinks and my fetish and my lust in a way nobody else ever had. But she’d cornered me multiple times, asking about my kinks, calling me out when my sight lingered on her ass for too long.
Once, about six weeks prior, during a foot cleaning session after one of her work shifts, she’d spun around, pivoting on her right foot while her left was still extended in my face. I was on all fours, licking the sweat of the day from her sole, so the spin was quite a shock. She knelt down in front of me, smiling devilishly. “Samuel, are you staring at my ass?”
I stammered and stuttered. I certainly had been. It was Fall at the time, so her work shorts were no longer allowed at work, and I’d bought her a pair of the tightest black jeans I’d ever seen. When she wore the pants at work, they came off when she had me lick the day’s sweat from her soles. The cleaning sessions were starting to happen less at that point, and they were quite short, so I reveled in the sight of her beautiful body as she removed her pants and her work shirt barely covered the lacey red thong that remained.
I had mentioned that Emili was plus-size, and I had mentioned that I loved that. But Shiann’s body was absolutely otherworldly. Her sensational feet led up her tightly muscular calves, to her well-toned thighs, and resting atop those were two plump, supple ass cheeks. As drawn as I was to Shiann’s feet, in that moment, the first time I’d ever seen her in a thong and had so much of her ass exposed had taken all of my attention.
I figured I’d let on that I was concentrated on her ass when I kept missing with my tongue across her salty, sweaty sole. She had turned her head back a few times, and I’d diverted my attention back to her feet. But now, I was caught. Shame and humiliation flooded my senses, as I looked away from her gaze.
She simply grinned, stood up, and turned back around. When her fingers graced the waist of her thong, my heart dropped into my stomach. Shiann slowly bent forward, her legs completely straight. The fabric was slowly peeling from her hips. I felt my arms quiver as I heard her laugh. She was staring back at me. Just then, I could have sworn I had seen a drip of something fall to the floor from a few inches further past her asshole.
She stopped and looked back at me. “Look at me, Samuel.” When I didn’t, she pulled the thong back up. “You pathetic little piggie, you know you only deserve the sweat and grime of my feet. I’m not sure where you get off looking at any other part of me…” She trailed off. I finally looked at her face. She looked genuinely angry. She continued, “but you won’t be getting off for a week.”
I was perplexed. If I had seen a drip from her thong, did that not mean she was enjoying this? She seemed to love watching me squirm, love how she could drain my bank user account and leave a smile on my face doing it. She pulled her pants back on and walked out. I felt down and saw that the wet spot on my boxers had nearly doubled in size. Our sessions stopped shortly after that.
Today, though, something was different. I had noticed quite a few purchases pop up on my bank app. Thongs, shoes, and cute socks. Many of which were in colors I loved, colors Shiann knew I loved seeing her in. I then got a text from her, “We need to talk, Samuel.” My stomach sank. The hopefulness I had felt seeing her purchases, the light at the end of the blue-ball tunnel, was fading. Did she buy all that stuff to mock me one final time before giving my card back? Or was it a pity buy so I could feel the rush one last time before she told me she regretted ever letting me touch her soles?
Emili was out of town for her bachelorette party – no, Shiann was not a bachelorette, as Emili and her three best friends had made a pact to be each others – so it was just me and Shiann at the house. Shiann had told us that she’d be with Tim all weekend, before winking at me and saying I’d have the whole house to myself, and telling Emili to stock me up some lotion. This had prompted Emili to slap her sister in the arm and they shared a laugh and a hug. My fiance and I said our goodbyes and I love you’s and be-careful’s, and she was gone. Three hours later, my phone lit up. “Come pick me up from work, Samuelllll.”
I had almost put my shoes on the wrong feet, I stumbled out of the house so quickly. Tim had been Shiann’s ride almost exclusively, for the past six months. When he worked early shift overtime, she still somehow had a different car -driven by a different boy everytime- drop her off instead.
My stomach twisted into knots as I wondered about our impending conversation, but my blood had raced to my cock as I wondered about that first car ride. I pulled up to the restaurant and waited about 15 minutes before Shiann left the building. When she saw my car, she began to laugh. As she opened the car door, she started, “Samuel, you made it early! I hope you didn’t have to wait too long. I had a lot of last second tasks to run and it was soooo hot in there today. I stink!” She laughed again as she buckled in, but her face slowly dropped as she made that last exclamation.
The car ride was silent for six minutes that felt like hours. I didn’t dare speak out of turn. She plugged her phone in and played music too loudly. I didn’t dare complain. When we pulled into the parking spot, the sun had just finished setting. I went to exit, but she put her hand on my arm.
“Samuel…” I looked over at her to see her stone-faced. “I’m not supposed to like.. any of this. It’s supposed to be fun for me. It’s supposed to be something I do to be a bitch and wreak a little havoc. That’s it.” I stared at her solemnly. Was that it? Was it not fun anymore? I sat, dumbfounded.
“That’s why I haven’t done any of this with you. I can’t. You’re marrying my sister in a month. And it’s not fun anymore.” She quickly left the car and stormed inside. A million questions rushed through my head. But none I could put a finger on. None I could fully verbalize and put into a question form. I had no words to chase after her while yelling. I had nothing. I sat in the car for twenty minutes, feeling empty.
When I finally entered the apartment, Shiann was sitting on the couch. It looked like she had been crying. She looked up at me, frozen in the door. Finally, I spoke, “Shiann, look, I know you love your sister. I love her, too. We can stop. I can go to her and tell her if you want. I don’t want this to hurt you. It was fun for me too, but if you’re feeling guilty… it was just depravity. Just me being… absolutely helpless to say no to you because you were giving me something I needed so badly… We never have to mention it again, and I’m sorry if you hate me, but I wasn’t going to leave Emili for you.”
“No.” I looked up at her. My heart jumped a bit as she cut me off from my stammering. “No, Samuel. That’s.. not what I mean.”
She stood up, and a smile creased her face. Bewildered, my opinion stuttered into silence. “Samuel, Samuel, Samuel. I don’t want you to fucking leave my sister for me. You think I want my family to call me a homewrecker? I never once thought you would get caught. You’re too careful. And you’re too fucked up in the head to tell on yourself. You need this from me, Samuel.” I looked long and hard at her as she continued. “And it’s not going to stop. I’m going to hold this over your head for your entire marriage. I’m going to keep your credit card long after you’re married and force me to move out.”
“But.. you said you.. liked it and you weren’t supposed to?”
“Liked -it- Samuel. Not you, you fucking pig.” The degrading opinion hit me like a brick in the face. I felt my knees going weak, and she began walking towards me. “I felt myself get wet with you Samuel. A few times. I started to get turned on by your enjoyment, and not what I got out of it from you. That’s why it stopped. It was supposed to be feet, and I could separate that. When you liked a part of me that Tim never even mentioned…”
She trailed off, here. It all was making sense, but all the connections being crossed were happening at different times. Shiann -only- wanted to own me. And there was no end in sight. Every photo, every video, every story would be held over my head for the rest of my life, until I died from the guilt or the lack of Shiann when we did have her leave. I could never tell Emili any of this. I dropped to my knees.
Shiann continued. “I could do nothing but let you sniff my fucking sock once a month and you would still give me your paycheck. I could stop giving you -anything- and you would still give me your paycheck. That’s what helped me realize it, Samuel. I thought it was just feet for you. I felt you might want something more from me, and you would try and leave her and I’d look like a monster to my family. But it’s just another fucking kink. You don’t see me as a person. I’m just a kink to you. An object of guilt and shame and your self-hatred. And I can -use- that.” She cupped her hand under my jaw. I felt paralyzed in my body, locked in to this moment. I had never felt more broken as a person than that moment when I realized how right she was. How fucked up I was mentally.
She pushed me backwards, and I fell on my ass with my back against the couch. She slowly slipped out of her black Toms, and I realized they were the shoes from our first car ride together. Her shoes being removed, I saw the pink ankle socks that I had found in the bathroom the very first time she called me out on my foot fetish. She reached down and began to unbutton her tight black jeans. As she pulled them down, I saw a familiar sight, as the tight red thong from months earlier slowly emerged as the pants slid down her legs. For all the new items I’d bought her in the past 8 months and 25 days, it was these items that had been seared into my brain forever. She looked at my face one more time, that devilish smile in her eyes.
Then, as she had done all that time ago, she lifted her pink sock to my face, inches from my nose, allowing me to smell the scent that I’d longed for for the past six months, on a sock that smelled as if it had not been cleaned in just as long, and she uttered the same words she had mentioned that night on the couch. “Now, shut up and sniff. I have some stuff I want to talk to you about, Samuel.”