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I'd always been a bit put off by Cinta. Personality wise, she was the complete opposite of me. Whereas I was placid and reserved, Cinta was outspoken, rudely so in some instances. She had quite a temper from what I'd seen of her at their parents’ house. My younger brother had shared a couple of classes with her in high school, and I'd heard countless stories of her bullying other girls. My boyfriend brushed off her behaviour as just being a teenager. Despite my reservations, he assured me that we'd find a way to get on and that the arrangement made sense. I reluctantly agreed and the spare room was hers.

Cinta worked at a local gym as an assistant personal trainer, hoping to learn the trade and forge her own career. It also came with the perk of her being able to use the gym for free, which she took advantage of on a daily basis. With myself working from home as a freelance writer, I was a bit worried that we'd get under each other’s feet. Thankfully, with her job she was rarely home during the day so we didn't spend a lot of time together. When she was around the house, she usually spent the time either in her room listening to music and messing around on the internet, or lounging in front of the television in the living area.

She was petite and svelte, about five and a half feet tall and like my boyfriend, Vietnamese through and through. They'd both been born over there but had emigrated with their parents during my boyfriend's early teens; Cinta being barely a toddler at the time. As a result, appearance wise they were Asian, but their command of English was fluent, though with a slight Vietnamese twang. Naturally olive tanned skin and dark hair ran in the family and Cinta was no exception. Her eyes were narrow and equally dark. Her lips full and her figure honed yet curvaceous. She liked to wear dark eyeliner and would draw a point out from the corner of each eye, as if further heightening the Asian appearance of her eyes somewhat.

Cinta was stylish in a sporty way. She usually wore a snapback, often backwards with her black hair hanging out of the front. That was her casual look. While at work she'd let her hair swing behind her head in a cute ponytail. Leggings adorned her legs as her clothes were often functional, allowing her to slip between work and leisure seamlessly. Slouch socks sprouting out of sporty sneakers were her favoured choice of footwear. Her figure was petite and womanly, yet strong. Her arms gave off the appearance of being muscular, but like her back and ass, toned; all very intimidating though ultimately feminine. She was most certainly a compact, bundle of strong femininity.

A couple of months had passed since the big move and the arrangement seemed to be working well to an extent. Cinta had mostly pulled her weight with the chores though she needed gentle reminding from time to time. She was beyond dedicated to the maintenance of her physique, but around the house she was lazy. Perhaps it was because she exhausted so much effort at the gym. I could tell she thought I was a nag but I think as I was her brother's girlfriend, she made an effort to appease my rules, to some degree. We'd argued on a couple of occasions, but that was mostly because Cinta wasn't afraid of voicing her distaste if something didn't go as she liked. She was fiery when riled and though I'd never seen the full extent of her bad side, it's not something I wished to find myself on. Thankfully, the thought of her brother kept her in check. Whenever it seemed she was about to boil over and cross the line, I'd catch an expression of doubt overwhelm her agitated expression and the argument would soon fizzle out.

It wasn't all confrontation and nagging on my part however. Occasionally we would hang out and Cinta could be quite civil, as long as she was generally getting her way. She wouldn't participate in anything she found to be boring or uninteresting, but she'd join me in watching a TV series over popcorn or head out for food and drinks. I even went along with her to the gym on a couple of occasions, though I'd struggle to keep up with her and would slink off to the jacuzzi while she shook her head disapproval. I think the term acquaintances that shared a living space suited us well. By no means were we friends.

One such day we'd headed out for food after I'd accompanied Cinta to one of her yoga classes. I'd tried and failed at yoga before, but that particular class seemed of a higher intensity compared to anything I'd previously attempted. I'm not at all flexible, and after ten minutes I'd had enough. Afterwards, Cinta was far from pleased at what she stated as my lack of enthusiasm and pitiful effort. She pulled no punches when it came to voicing her disappointment. I attempted to appease her displeasure by offering to treat her to a meal. Unsurprisingly, she readily accepted.

Throughout the meal, the small-talk was stagnated as it usually was with her. We didn't have a lot in common. Most of the conversation focused around my boyfriend and how his internship was going. Their family was closely knit and I did admire how proud and protective Cinta was of her older brother. She had sworn that she would never let him date the wrong woman. I also suspected that she didn't approve of our relationship, but seemed to go along with it because her brother was happy and she had a place to live.

The blood had drained from my face when I recognised one of three girls that had entered the restaurant. Her name was Natalie and we'd been roommates through university. She'd made my life pretty much hell. From making fun of me with her friends, stealing my clothes and generally leaving our room a tip so I was forced to clean it; Natalie did it all. Worst of all, I never had the backbone to properly stand up to her. I'm placid when it comes to real confrontation, and she was far larger than myself in a heavyset way. She was also loud and audibly aggressive. Whenever I had tried to weakly stand up to her in the past she had shouted me down. After a while I just accepted her dominance of our living quarters and avoided her as much as I could. The bickering with Cinta was manageable, mostly because I held some level of respect with her, due to dating her brother. Natalie had shown me zero respect from day one. I absolutely hated her and feared she had noticed me.

I had tried to turn and hide my face but Natalie caught sight of me. Her snigger was clearly visible from across the room as she made her way over. Without a word, she took the seat opposite me and grabbed a bunch of fries from my plate. While I watched in silence, the fries were stuffed in her greedy mouth. “Fancy seeing you here, wimp,” she said, through disgusting chews. Just hearing her call me that brought back all of the terrible memories I'd buried away. To add to the torment, a friend stood either side of her and laughed along as I let her eat the food right off my plate.

I noticed in my peripheral vision, Cinta had her head cocked to the side and was listening intently. She glanced between myself and Natalie repeatedly, following the exchange intently yet remaining as an observer. She was silent, seemingly waiting for me to say something to Natalie. Something to tell her to stop. Anything. I didn't. My lips quivered to utter a retort, but nothing came to the fore.

“This one used to be my bitch during my uni days,” Natalie said to one of the girls with her, which prompted an extra bout of laughter.

I looked at Cinta in a panic and saw that she was not amused.

Natalie continued to mock me while I just sat there and took it. She made comments about how slutty my clothes were and lambasted my hairstyle while dragging her grotty fingers through it. My face reddened and I wanted to just disappear right there. Even some of the patrons at nearby tables had noticed the furore and nosily looked over. With my eyes I begged Natalie to cease her tormenting, but it was a look she was familiar with, and one that only spurred her on further.

I glanced at Cinta again, this time my face flushed with desperation, silently pleading for help. I was a weakling, but she was the opposite. I figured she'd spring to my defence and take pride in rescuing her older brother's girlfriend from this abhorrent creature. Disappointingly, Cinta merely stared back blankly, oddly refusing to step in and put me out of my misery. Initially, I thought she might be scared or hesitant, like myself, but that simply wasn't her. Perhaps she was overcome with curiosity at my lack of backbone. I knew of that trait in my character and Natalie certainly knew of it. Up until that point Cinta was oblivious of my softness as I'd hidden it quite well from her.

Eventually Natalie turned her attention to Cinta. “And who's your little friend?” She asked, while reaching over to Cinta's plate. With Cinta's silence, Natalie must have foolishly thought we were cut from the same cloth. Before her fingers could make contact with the dish, Cinta's hand had sprung out and twisted them back against her wrist. There was a jarring crack, followed by a screech and subsequent wailing from Natalie. Her friends, who mere moments before were laughing along at her bullying, stood motionless in shock.

Cinta seemed unmoved. While Natalie cried for her friends to phone for an ambulance and get the police, Cinta collected her coat, reminded me to pay the bill and went outside to wait.

After paying, I joined Cinta outside and we walked back to the car in silence. I was pretty shaken up by the whole situation. Inside I was deeply humiliated at my weak character having been revealed to my boyfriend's little sister. There was also a doubt brewing inside me. I could tell by Cinta's face during the exchange that she was neither amused or impressed; my fear was that those emotions were focused around my weakness, rather than Natalie's behaviour.

As we neared my car, Cinta's curiosity must have got the better of her. “Why didn't you stop that bitch doing that to you?” She asked.

“I don't know,” I said. My lip trembled in shame and I looked towards the pavement. My cheeks were on fire with embarrassment. It was one thing to be a spineless cry-baby, but another to have it announced in front of my boyfriend's kid sister.

“I never realised what a wimp you are,” Cinta said casually. “I can't believe you just let her treat you like that.”

“I'm not a wimp,” I said, almost pleadingly.

“Honestly, I'm shocked,” she continued, paying my plea no mind. “I can't believe my brother is dating such a wimp.”

I tried to protest but Cinta was having none of it. She simply shook her head and swatted my pleas away. The drive home was mostly covered in silence. I did try to speak up and defend my behaviour, or lack of it, but Cinta just shushed me every time.

The next day, I was snuggled comfortably on the couch watching my favourite TV show when I heard the front door open. I tried to put my humiliation at the hands of Natalie out of my mind for the most part, opting to plant myself in front of the television all day as a distraction and scoff a load of chocolate. Binge eating had always had a way of cheering me up.

Seconds later Cinta slumped into the room and swung her rucksack from her back. “What you watching?” She asked, before plopping down next to me on the couch. She smelled quite funky after clearly putting in another intense gym session. While I was rattled by the previous evening's confrontation, Cinta was just carrying on her usual routine; her signature snapback settled on her head as ever.

I looked over to see if it was a serious question, having expected her to give me a hard time after what had transpired the previous evening, especially at her openly saying I was a wimp. Cinta seemed preoccupied with removing her sneakers, followed by her slouch socks. She held one to her face and wrinkled her nose at the smell, before flinging it carelessly across the room.

“Just watching one of my soaps. How was the gym?” I asked, trying to be polite. As she hadn't brought up anything that had happened at the restaurant, I didn't want to poke the beehive as such.

“Oh, you know,” she said, whilst settling back into the plush cushions of the couch. “Tiring. I must have run about ten miles on the treadmill, and that was after an hour with a client too.”

“Are you aching?” I asked. I was making conversation, but as I was ignorant when it came to the gym I didn't know whether that was a lot to run for her. It sounded like I'd probably die doing it.

“You wouldn't believe,” she sighed. She stretched her arms above her head and settled back further into the cushions. Her eyes were narrower than usual and she gazed over at me languidly, as if she was lost in thought. While maintaining eye contact with me through those narrowed eyelids, she lifted her legs up and plopped her feet down on my lap. Immediately I was overcome by the stink. Clearly running all of that distance had brewed up quite a sweat in those thick socks and sneakers. Before I could question the nerve of her, she nodded towards her feet and smirked. “My feet are killing me. Be a dear and rub them for me.” She didn't even wait for a response before closing her eyes and settling back in contentment.

I was at a loss. I looked down at her disgusting feet. Sure, they were pedicured and not ugly or anything, but they were just so stinky. If I did what she wanted and massaged her feet, I'd be giving into her in a way. I wanted to push them from my lap, stand up and have a go at the cheek and audacity of her. I even pictured the scenario in my head and imagined her cowering in shock. But that never happened.

While Cinta lay there relaxed and at ease, I diligently rubbed the exertion of her workout from her tired feet. I traced my fingers along her wrinkled soles and scratched at the hardened skin of her heels. My thumbs kneaded the aches from each of her toes while she stirred and moaned in approval. I even removed the lint from between her toes while I caught glimpses of her sparkling eyes watching me from the tiniest parting of her eyelids, above the faintest of smiles.

Rubbing Cinta's tired gym feet became a daily chore after that first day. It was never explicitly stated between us, but once home, she'd remove her sneakers and socks and put her feet in my lap. She wouldn't even ask me to rub them, she'd simply expect me to do it; and I would. She wasn't shy about settling back in relaxed bliss and moaning approvingly at my ministrations either. She'd often lazily rest one foot on my shoulder while I serviced the other, not seeming to notice or care how close her stinky toes were to my face. Maybe she wasn't even aware as I never had the guts to tell her how awful the smell was. I just suffered through it and rubbed her feet till she was satisfied. There was never much communication during the massage, just Cinta occasionally telling me to focus on a particular part of her foot or rub a bit harder, and I, as her unpaid masseuse, would obey.

Over the weeks, things had started to become a little clearer with Cinta's behaviour. I'd underestimated her deviousness. I knew she was a hardass, but I figured she'd simply poke fun at me a bit for letting Natalie walk all over me. Yet, whereas I had viewed it as a humiliation, Cinta had seen it as an opening and opportunity. Natalie had laid my weakness out there for her to see, and my boyfriend's bratty, lazy little sister seemed intent on seizing upon it; I guess I was fair game in her eyes. It was as if any shred of respect she had for me evaporated that evening at the restaurant. She thought nothing of having me rub her feet straight after a long run, even as the fresh glistening sweat from her soles seeped into the palms of my hands.

After one particular massage, Cinta signalled she'd had enough by placing her foot against my breast and softly pushing me away. I wasn't expecting it and accidentally knocked over a glass of water with my elbow. Thinking fast, I ran to grab a towel from the kitchen, then dropped to my hands and knees next to the couch and dabbed away at the spill.

I heard Cinta giggle above me while I soaked up the spillage, then felt the weight of her feet upon my back. I wasn't sure what to do. Whether to play it off as a joke or voice my discontent at her taking this too far. As a result, I froze in place and let her use me as a makeshift footstool.

“That's it, just stay still like that, wimp,” she said. She exemplified her point by lifting and dropping her heel on my neck with a thud. It didn't hurt a lot, but it was enough to stop me moving and remain on all fours. After a few seconds without resistance from me, I felt her feet sink into the curve of my neck and her posture stretch out. She settled back on the couch and clicked through the channels; evidently without a care in the world. I must have looked ridiculous as this younger, petite Asian girl used me as her personal footrest, but I remained on my hands and knees without objection. Occasionally I'd hear the snap of gum as she blew bubbles from her lips. She even answered her phone at one point and had a long conversation with one of her personal training clients about the next day's session, all the while shuffling her feet upon my neck.

My limbs soon tired and trembled from the exertion, but I struggled through it and held firm. If my head dropped too low from tiredness, Cinta would tap my neck with the heel of her foot and I'd find the energy to lift a little higher.

Eventually, to my exhausted relief, Cinta grew bored of whatever she was watching, withdrew her feet and ambled upstairs for a shower. Not a word was said about the past hour as she left me there on hands and knees, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

The daily, post-gym foot massages continued as normal, and on two other occasions I found myself serving as a footstool for Cinta. Neither of those occasions were down to her being an opportunist like the first time; I was explicitly told to get down on my hands and knees next to the couch and stay still. She phrased it as if I was doing her a favour, so I felt rude to refuse. Her command was casual both times, immediately following an extended foot massage session. Having already been at her feet rubbing away, I was in a particularly weak and submissive frame of mind, so of course, I did exactly as she said. As she knew I would.

I'd taken to being prepared for Cinta's massage after she'd return from the gym. She usually got back the same time every day and I'd have a cold drink waiting for her. Once she was seated, I'd remove her sneakers and socks and the next half hour to an hour would be spent pampering her tired feet. Sometimes she'd request her calves, neck or shoulders be rubbed too, and I'd release all of the knots and tension that had accrued from whatever exercise she'd been performing that day.

One evening, as usual I waited obediently by the couch around the time Cinta was due home. The routine was silently and mutually agreed, or rather expected on her part and accepted on mine. I knew my role by then when it came to making sure Cinta was refreshed after a gym session and ready for another the next day.

On that occasion, Cinta didn't flop down on the couch and present her sneakered feet to me as she usually did. She looked at me curiously, before rolling her eyes and purposefully walking over. Her hips swayed and her ponytail swung behind her head; a catlike predator stalking her prey. Without a word, she grasped a handful of my hair and twisted my neck awkwardly. I was forced to look up into her eyes as she gritted her teeth in determination. I was distraught and confused by the random manhandling. It was like an animalistic need to enforce her physical dominance over me. She gradually lowered me down to my knees with her determined grimace never wavering.

I yelped at the pain.

“Why are you doing this to me?” I whined. “Please stop Cinta.”

While I knelt there awkwardly with my neck strained to the side, Cinta wiggled her foot free from her sneaker. She held her foot aloft and showed me the sole of her dirty sock. “Take my sock off,” she said. When I mumbled a refusal, she pulled on my hair, making my head jolt in agony. Seconds later I was peeling her sock from her foot. Once off, she snatched the sock from me and forcefully stuffed it into my mouth. My eyes danced around in confusion at now having a sock in my mouth. My eyes teared up as the first awful tastes assaulted my tongue and I couldn't stop myself from sniffling and shaking in shock. It made no sense at all. I was ready and willing to rub her feet as she liked, and instead she'd abused me in that way.

Cinta crouched, looked straight into my dancing eyes and brought them to a standstill. As our eyes met, the meaning was communicated; I was being humiliated just because she could. With that, she released my hair and seemingly lost interest in me. While I remained kneeling with a mouthful of Cinta's sock, she confidently strode across the room, flopped down in the recliner and tapped away on her phone.

Now free from her assault, I reached into my mouth and pulled the sock free.

“Don't you dare take it out,” Cinta said without even looking up from across the room. “Suck on it for a while. Taste and appreciate the work I put in today.”

I weighed up the options and figured that sucking on Cinta's sock was far better than her physically assaulting me again. My scalp still burned from the brutality of her yanking on my hair. I tentatively took a seat on the couch and sat there with her sock stuffed in my mouth. Feeling like a fool, I attempted to watch the television while Cinta was sprawled out in the recliner with her feet crossed at the ankles; one still hidden under a freshly sweaty sock. She laughed along to whatever the show was on the television while texting whoever on her phone. Meanwhile my face was screwed up in disgust as the flavour of her sock assaulted my taste-buds. I avoided swallowing or chewing but it was hard not to do it accidentally. I could have just pulled the sock from my mouth and told her to go to hell, but I just couldn't find the courage. Being an utter wimp; maybe I did deserve to be sucking on Cinta's stinky socks after all. What kind of person would let someone else do that to them? It had been years since university and I was still the same coward.

“I want to see you sucking on it,” Cinta said from across the room. She looked up from her phone and waited for me to act. I made exaggerated movements with my jaw to show I was sucking her sock as she wanted. Satisfied, she returned her attention to her phone, but I continued to suck just in case she'd notice if I stopped.

Once the current television show was over, Cinta languidly climbed from the recliner and approached me. My body tensed up at what I expected to be another outburst; my scalp couldn't handle a further barrage of hair pulling. She pushed her fingers between my lips and yanked out the sock. Instant relief enveloped me, but it didn't last long. Her second sock was quickly removed - straight from the ripe source of her foot - and deposited in my mouth. “Get on the floor,” she said.

Wondering what she was up to, I did as she ordered.

“Get under the couch and poke your head out.” She gave me an encouraging kick with her foot and I scrambled beneath the couch. It was an elevated suite on stilt-like feet, that left barely enough room for me to lie beneath, running flush with my chest. Cinta hopped up onto the couch, and unashamedly placed the soles of her feet upon my face. Just like that, I'd become her footrest all over again, though this time in a far more humiliating position. Rather than try to shake her off, I lay there rigidly and let her grind her soles absent-mindedly. Her toes explored the various features of my face, curling over my nose and pulling at my eyebrows. Every wiggle of her toes offered me a further dose of her foot odour; an acrid and offensive stench. She'd settle my nose in the grooves beneath her toes and urge me to sniff.

All the while I sucked on her stinking sock. The taste was overbearing, and the smell of her sweaty feet made me light-headed. My senses were attacked from all sides by one source: Cinta's stinking feet. While I suffered a sense overload, Cinta played around on her phone carefree. It must have been nice to be in her position, not having a sock in her mouth or toes wrapped around her nose. That was the difference in our statuses in the house now. She wasn't the wimp; I was.

“I've finally found a worthwhile use for you, wimp,” she spat as she lazily dragged her feet all over my face. She rubbed the remaining sweat from her soles into my cheeks, leaving her scent and marking me as her territory of sorts.

I mumbled in response with my words being stifled by the sock. Cinta pressed down firmly on my lips with the ball of her foot so I took that as a sign to be quiet.

“God, some ass hit on me today and just wouldn't take no for an answer.” She ground her soles painfully into my face, squashing my nose against my cheek and making my eyes clamp closed in agony. Suddenly her mood made more sense; I was being punished for the actions of some asshole. I hadn't done anything wrong. I was just an easy target for her to take it out on. I just hoped I wouldn't be her vessel to vent her frustrations every time someone got to her.

I barely slept that night. Her treatment of me, and especially the name calling played on my mind. She was just so casually mean and it made me uncomfortable being around someone with such volatile mood swings. I felt my control of the situation, and with it, the control of my home slipping away. It was my house and I was supposed to be the dominant female there. Cinta was supposed to be the lodger. Also, she was my boyfriend's younger sister. How could I look him in the eye after what she'd done to me? Not only had she outright acknowledged that she thought I was a wimp, she treated me as such. I didn't want to become an outlet for her to kick around and take her anger out on whenever someone wronged her.

The next morning, I was still fuming from what had happened the day before and I found some resolve from somewhere. It couldn't go on. I had a lingering feeling of dread due to Cinta's shenanigans. I feared that things would only escalate further from there since she'd sampled the full extent of what a beta I was. In her head she must have thought she could get away with anything.

Over breakfast, I tried to take a stand and recover some dignity. “Cinta, I think it would be best if you move out,” I said.

Cinta glanced up momentarily from her bowl of yoghurt and fruit slices. “Yeah, right. Whatever.” She rolled her eyes and fed another apple slice into her mouth.

“I'm serious,” I said, trying to speak with conviction and disguise the apprehension in my voice. “Things have got out of hand, and with me dating your brother and everything I think it's best we bring things to a close before it gets awkward.”

“As if,” Cinta spat back. She licked her fingers clean of yoghurt, marched around the table and faced up to me with defiance. “It'd be best for you if I did, sure, but why the hell would I do that?” She poked me sharply in the chest with her finger and the pain made me wince. Before I could escape she'd grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked me down to the floor. It was still sore from the previous evening and I gasped at the sharp, stinging pain. I tried to struggle free but her grip was resolute.

“Please, Cinta, stop,” I begged.

With my hair still wrapped tightly in her grip, she looked around the kitchen, probably for something to hit me with. The closest thing to hand seemed to be one of her slippers that had come free from her foot. She chuckled as she held it to my face and told me to sniff.

“What? No! Why?” I pleaded from within the confines of the slipper as it encased my face.

“Come on, fight back,” she urged me whilst giggling to herself. “Make me stop.”

I tried to act tough and resist her, but I was kidding no one. My shoulders sagged and tears welled up in my eyes. My lips trembled and my arms shook. At the first instance of aggression; I was left a juddering wreck. It was like being in university in that horrid dorm room all over again; trapped in a prison with an imposing cell-mate.

Cinta's arms hung loosely and the slipper was barely held against my face. Even her grip on my hair loosened to the point I'd be able to pull it free. But I didn't. I just sat there sniffing her pungent slipper while she grinned at me in victory. She leant over and got right up in my face so I could see how much she was enjoying debasing me while I inhaled her stinky fragrance.

“I'll give you a choice, wimp,” Cinta said as she twisted the slipper against my face. I cringed at her openly calling me that again, but I didn't have the courage to correct her. “I can flat out kick your ass right now for having the cheek to tell me to move out and we both know that I can do it.” She released my hair and flexed her bicep. It wasn't overly muscular, but the feminine strength was obvious.

I cowered away at the thought of Cinta beating me up. I knew the stories of her bullying ways from my brother, and seeing her there, in far better shape than myself I feared the worst. She was a little shorter than me, but no doubt she was a lot stronger; it was bad enough when she pulled my hair. My arms and legs were soft and flabby, whereas hers were toned and powerful. Seeing how she'd easily put Natalie-my one-time tormentor-in her place was enough of a threat.

I took the slipper from her and held it to my face with both hands. I sniffed rapidly and enthusiastically, trying to show her that I accepted the way things were. Cinta stood with a baffled look upon her face, momentarily shocked at the depths I was willing to descend. She finally smirked and nodded her head in approval, then shuffled up onto the breakfast bar ahead of me. Her bare feet came to rest on my knees, while her elbows rested on her own. She cupped her chin in her upturned palms and held her face barely inches from my own, watching intently in knowing amusement as I hoovered every corner of that awful slipper with my nose. She seemed content letting me debase myself for a couple of minutes, before taking the slipper and tossing it aside.

“I'm still leaning towards kicking your ass,” she said, prompting my lip to tremble. “But I did say I'd give you a choice. So, you can either accept your beating or you can kiss my feet and apologise.”

“I'll kiss your feet!” I said straight away. I'd take anything over a physical beating.

She giggled, probably knowing what I'd choose before she suggested it. “Get down on your knees then.”

I slipped off the stool and moved it aside. Once down on my knees, I found I was looking up at Cinta between her dangling feet. She lifted one foot slightly, and angled it so the arch was facing me. I knew exactly what to do. While looking up at her hopefully, I placed my lips against her arch and softly kissed. At the point of contact, Cinta looked down her nose at me, almost regally. I was expecting laughter or verbal abuse, but instead she seemed to be revelling in my grovelling. She offered her other foot and I performed another symbolic kiss of reverence.

If that was the price it took to avoid a beating from Cinta; I gladly paid it. I felt a flush as the absurdity and humiliation of what I had done occurred to me. There I was, kissing the feet of my boyfriend's little sister so she wouldn't hurt me. I had almost a decade on her in age, but there I was all the same. Shame had become an integral part of my life. I spoke the words I prayed would save me. “I'm sorry for saying you should leave Cinta.”

Cinta jumped down from the breakfast bar and pushed the sole of her foot against my face, knocking me off balance. I fell to the side and lay sprawled out on the cold, tiled floor. “You're pathetic,” she said while she pinned my cheek to the floor with her bare foot. I could just make out in the corner of my eye that she was flipping me off up above with both hands. “I should tell my brother exactly what a wimp you are. Do you think he'd still want to date you after knowing you'll kiss his sister's feet when she says?”

Before I could answer, she gave my cheek another push with her foot, then she turned towards the living area and left me there on the kitchen floor. I just lay motionless in shame with my eyes closed; I wanted the Earth to swallow me up. I figured she was done with putting me in my place, but she called out from the living area and summoned me. I lethargically clambered to my hands and knees and crawled over to her. I felt both physically and emotionally drained from her games.

Cinta was sat up straight against the back of the upright recliner. Her posture was almost one of royalty. Her arms lay confidently draped atop the parallel armrests. Her entire demeanour was relaxed and at ease, right down to her crossed ankles on the flip-out footrest. “Come here,” she said. She beckoned me over with her finger.

I approached and knelt beside the recliner. “You're...you're not going to tell Jeff about any of this, are you?” I asked, tentatively. The thought of Jeff knowing about any of what Cinta had made me do was mortifying. Massaging her feet, I could play off as being thoughtful. The footstool incident was difficult, but I could claim I was joking around. The sock sucking and slipper sniffing? There was no explanation that sufficed for those. Of course, I could try to deny it all but Cinta would soon break me down in front of her brother. I was a weak, juddering wreck when she exerted her dominance.

“Beg me not to tell him.” Her arms were folded across her chest. An expression of stern disapproval sat upon her face.

“Please just keep this between us Cinta. Your brother doesn't need to know anything. I'll kiss your feet as much as you want, but please don't tell Jeff.”

Cinta's lips curled into the slightest smile. One foot kicked about playfully above the other, outstretched and planted upon the recliner's footrest. “Kiss my feet then, wimp,” she said, whilst she nodded her head towards her wiggling toes.

I shuffled over to the foot of the recliner and hesitated. Her feet weren't ugly or anything; I'd rubbed them enough to know that. Her toes were cute and descended in size evenly from biggest to small. They couldn't be any larger than a size five. She actually took pretty good care of them and at that moment her toes were polished with a fresh black pedicure. However, they did still look a little tired from her continuous workouts, and her soles were rough in places, no doubt from repeated gym exertion.

I leant up and placed a soft respectful kiss on the sole of the foot nearest to me. Once my lips broke contact, I sat back down onto my heels. “Please don't tell Jeff, Cinta.”

She surprised me by letting out a loud, cackling laugh. “You think I'd actually tell him? For some reason he's really into you, so it'd destroy him if he knew what a foot-kissing sap you are. He's actually way too good for you. You've been needing putting in your place for a while. But, you know, Jeff actually likes you, so I was trying to get along with you. But, it's hard for me to pretend to respect you now I know what you're really like. I'm not going to pretend to be nice to you anymore.”

My heart sank. Her words were so blunt, cruel, but ultimately honest.

“But you can keep kissing my feet anyway,” she added.

For the next hour, I stayed knelt at the foot of the recliner, planting kiss after kiss upon Cinta's dainty feet. I alternated between each foot, as well as between her soles, toes and the tops of her feet, depending on what was closest as she shuffled them about. Between kisses I'd apologise. Again, and again, I told her how sorry I was for having suggested she should move out. She paid me little mind, and preferred to play around on her phone; I continued the kisses all the same. She quietly sighed at times when my lips caressed her flesh, probably at the power trip my grovelling provided. It was an absolutely humiliating affair; being forced to kiss my boyfriend's younger sister's feet in that way. However, I did it to avoid the alternative of having my ass kicked. I did whatever it took to survive.

Eventually, Cinta must have tired of the worship. She withdrew her feet and crossed them Indian style. She reached out and curled her forefinger beneath my chin, and lifted my head so my eyes met her own. “That's a good little wimp,” she said, before she cracked a dazzling smile of victory. “What are you?” She asked.

“A wimp,” I sighed in defeat.

She patted my head. “Yes, you are.”

With our roles in relation to each other firmly established, Cinta dragged me along to her next gym session. I dressed up in my gear figuring she was going to hound me into fitness like a drill sergeant. If she had told me to do a hundred push ups, I'd have done it; however long it took. When we arrived, I realised I couldn't have been more wrong about her intentions.

Cinta wanted me at the gym to be nothing more than her lackey. I had to dab the sweat from her forehead on command. When she finished with a piece of equipment, I had to wipe it clean of the sweaty remnants of where she'd sat. If her water bottle ran empty; I had to refill it. Sometimes she'd remove a sneaker as I drove her home and hold it against my face while she cackled in amusement. Every day, after the session was complete, she'd deliberately put off showering until I'd rubbed her stinky feet excessively once we were home. She seemed to take pleasure in having me massage her feet right after I peeled her damp slouch socks off.

“I love this,” she said one time during the drive home. On that occasion her sneaker was tied around my face as I drove, forcing me to sniff in her warm odour throughout the entire journey. Other drivers noticed and gave me odd looks. “Every gym junkie should have their own wimp as a towel girl,” she mused.

It was during a particularly exhausting humiliating exhibition at the gym that a new requirement was added to my lackey persona. Cinta had forced me to kneel in the changing room and remove her sneakers after giving each a kiss. All of the other women saw the kisses and I was beyond devastated. As a result, I foolishly spoke up against my gym tyrant and was soundly reprimanded with a damp sock being shoved in my mouth. From that point on, all of my gym duties were performed while I sucked on her sock from the previous day. She'd told me it was to keep my mind on what I was there for and prevent me from acting up. A few guys even tried to chat me up and I had to give them a glazed look, a mumble and slink away before they realised what was up. Cinta found the awkward exchange hilarious.

“What have you got planned for today?” Cinta asked me one morning. It had been weeks since she had declared me her towel girl and I'd joined her at the gym pretty much every day since. If she was training a client, I wasn't invited. For her own personal training sessions, she made sure I was there to tend to her needs.

It was early, but I was already sitting at my work desk and ploughing through a document. “I was just going to spend the day getting some work done. I'm a bit behind on an article.”

Cinta took a seat next to me and crossed her sneakered feet on my lap. Her arrogance was offensive, but unstoppable. She took such assuming liberties with her behaviour. Anyone else would tell her to go to hell, but I just sat there and took it. Her feet flexed around in my lap and I did nothing to remove them. It was just casual the way she treated me, as if I was just another piece of furniture. She lifted one sneaker and brought the heel to rest on the toe of the other. “Sounds boring,” she said, whilst looking at her fingernails.

The heel of Cinta's lower sneaker twisted on my leg and tore my skin. I winced at the burning sensation, but she didn't seem to notice or more likely care. I looked up towards my laptop screen and was reminded that I had a strict deadline to meet. The importance compelled me to speak up for once. “Could we be serious for a second, please Cinta?”

Cinta cocked her head at an angle and seemed to ponder my tone. “Sure,” she said. She withdrew her feet from my lap and sat up straight in her chair. “What do you want to talk about?”

I perked up at how reasonable she was being. Perhaps she was actually willing to listen to my concerns. I took the opportunity to get everything off my chest and lay it out. “This whole thing with the gym every day. I don't think I can keep it up. You're pretty much running the rule over everything I do.”

“That's putting it lightly,” she laughed.

The hairs stood up on my neck at her amused response, but I stayed committed to airing my issues. “Cinta, please. I'm worried that if this keeps up I'm going to lose my job and with it this place. I'm not getting enough work done and my editor is asking questions.”

Cinta looked at me curiously and pulled one of her sneakered feet up onto her seat. She hugged her leg loosely and balanced her chin on her knee. “Well, I don't want that obviously. Are you really going to get in trouble?”

“Yes,” I said and it was the truth.

“Wait here a second.” She nipped out of my room and returned about a minute later. In her hand she held her dirty slouch sock from the day before. She approached me with the toe end held between her fingers as if she was about to pin the tail on a donkey. I knew what was coming and my mouth seemed to hang open involuntarily, whether it be from shock or muscle memory due to repetitive training on Cinta's part. The slouch sock was too big to fit in my mouth in its entirety, so Cinta stuffed the toe end in as far as it would go. The rest of the rippled sock hung down the front of my chin. She burst out laughing at the completion of her idea so I assumed I looked ridiculous. “I'll let you off coming to the gym with me today, but you suck on this all afternoon while you work, you got it?”

I blushed deeply.

“You want to take it out, don't you?” She goaded me.

I broke eye contact with her and nodded my head.

“But I'm saying you can't. So what are you going to do wimp?”

I looked up at her blankly and said nothing, not that I could speak with my mouth full anyway. I knew what she wanted so I visibly sucked and chewed on the foot of her sock. My eyes screwed up at the vulgar taste assaulting my tongue. My acceptance brought a satisfied smirk to Cinta.

I stayed like that all afternoon while I typed away on my laptop. At first the sock was distracting, but eventually it became so familiar I barely noticed it. Even the taste became acceptable as it was saturated with my saliva. It was like a comforting blankie that a child grows attached to in their crib. For years after they'll carry it everywhere and chew on it. A nice thought, if it's disregarded that my blankie was Cinta's dirty slouch sock.

Surprisingly, I actually got a lot of work finished that afternoon. It was the most productive I'd been in weeks.

Cinta stopped in to check on me after she returned from the gym. She seemed pleased that the sock still hung from my mouth as she'd requested. My reward was a pat on the head. “Open your mouth,” she ordered. I did so and her sock dropped from between my lips. “You're so pathetic,” she laughed while rolling her eyes. “Sucking on my sweaty gym sock all afternoon just because I told you to. What do you have to say for yourself?”

I said nothing and instead looked towards the floor.

“Well anyway, I thought over what you said earlier. And I'm willing to come to a compromise. I've loved living with you for the last few months, things have really picked up. So, I don't want to risk you losing this place.”

Things had picked up for her maybe, but it had been a nightmare for me.

“You're going to keep rubbing my feet every day after my workouts because you can't imagine how good it feels. But, we'll limit you being my towel girl to just Fridays. I thought about it and that's the day I really go for it as it's just before the weekend, so I'll need you around. The rest of the week, you can stay home and get on with your work. But, you'll do it while sucking on my gym sock from the day before. What do you say?”

Her demanding the foot massages I could understand in a perverse kind of way; she got some relief from that. Making me go to the gym with her and serve as her lackey had its uses, not to me, but to her. But making me suck on her sock while she wasn't even around? There was no need for it, other than for her to get some sadistic pleasure from torturing me. It was absurd listening to her openly talk about such things. Going back a few months, it would be completely unthinkable that my boyfriend's little sister would be relaxed and comfortable discussing ways to humiliate me. And not just ways to humiliate, but ones she felt were a compromise and fair. Real fairness would be her leaving me alone.

When I hadn't responded as quickly as Cinta expected, she prompted me further. “That's as good a deal as you're going to get so I suggest you show some gratitude.”

I moved to get on my knees to kiss her sneakers in defeat, but Cinta placed a hand on my shoulder and stopped me. “Calm down, wimp,” she said with amusement. “Don't be so eager to get at my feet. I'm due my post-workout foot rub now anyway, so you can kiss them all over and show me how thankful you are during that, okay?”

Thankfully, I was let off the coming Friday from joining Cinta at the gym as Jeff was visiting for the weekend. I'd never been as relieved as when he walked through the door. Being in his arms for the first time in months made everything feel better. Cinta largely went back to ignoring me while her brother was around, and it was a much-needed break to taste something other than her sweaty socks; Jeff's lips were a far better flavour.

We spent Friday night alone together at a bar and danced the night away. I'd forgotten what it was like to actually have fun and enjoy myself; to have a sense of freedom. With Cinta imposing her grubby feet on me on a daily basis I'd pretty much become a prisoner in my own house. Jeff freed me from that, as Cinta-nightmare that she was-wasn't about to humiliate her brother's girlfriend right in front of him.

Saturday morning, we stayed in each other's arms, hungover and recovering from the night before. Jeff took me out for lunch at a pleasant café and the afternoon was spent walking around a local park and feeding the ducks. Being a normal girl once again just enjoying spending time with her gorgeous boyfriend was everything I hoped for.

For the final night of his visit, Jeff suggested we rent a movie. It sounded like a nice idea until he mentioned that Cinta would be home too. I was concerned, but being snuggled up next to him I felt pretty safe from Cinta's whims. To an extent, I'd almost forgotten the true nature of my relationship with his sister; that's how freeing the weekend with my boyfriend had been.

All was going well until Jeff paused the movie and excused himself to the bathroom. While he was gone, Cinta jumped to her feet and confidently walked over to me. With hands on hips and balancing on one leg, she lifted her foot towards my face and spread her toes so the biggest was pointed towards my mouth. “Suck,” she said.

I flicked between the bathroom and her foot; I hadn't heard the toilet flush so Jeff was probably still doing his business. She'd never told me to do anything like this before so I wasn't sure if she was serious. From her the look on her face she was very serious. She probably couldn't force me to do it with Jeff around, so if I held firm, she'd most likely give up and leave me be. However, by that point, obeying Cinta was so ingrained in my brain that I didn't dare not do what she wanted. While I still had time, I leant forward and took Cinta's toe into my mouth. I sucked sloppily and intensely, hoping to appease her before Jeff returned. My eyes wandered up the length of her tanned leg and came to meet her eyes, both gazing at me with disgust above a mouth twisted into a victorious smirk. She pulled her toe from my still-sucking lips with a plop, just as the toilet flushed and the bathroom door could be heard opening. As a final insult, Cinta ruffled my hair and told me I was a good girl, before laughing to herself and slinking off to the kitchen to refill her drink. Jeff re-joined me on the couch and kissed me on the mouth before I could avoid it. I had to wonder whether he could taste his sister's toe that had been in there mere seconds before. I couldn't get rid of the horrible taste however many sips of my drink I took.

We continued watching the movie uneventfully for the next hour. Most of the movie's plot passed me by as my mind was focused on other things. Jeff would rub my arm affectionately or kiss my forehead and I'd smile back as if all was well. Cinta of course tormented me the whole time by flexing and stretching her feet out on the footrest, right in my view, reminding me of what I'd sucked behind my boyfriend's back not so long before. It was difficult to concentrate with the objects of my misery being flaunted so freely.

Eventually, Jeff fell asleep over my lap and it didn't take Cinta long to notice and take advantage. Tip-toeing across the room, with one of her disgusting ankle socks in her grasp, she quietly forced it into my mouth before scampering back to her seat. She had to suppress her laughs under her cupped hand, such was her amusement at my predicament.

I was trapped beneath my slumbering boyfriend with his sister's sock in my mouth. I was about to just pluck it out and throw it back at her but Cinta was one step ahead of me.

“Do you want some more popcorn?” She shouted over.

Jeff flinched awake on my lap. “What?”

“Popcorn?” Cint repeated, whilst shaking the empty tub.

“Oh, yeah, good idea.”

Jeff sat up and looked at me. “You want some, babe?”

My face reddened at being unable to answer him. “Mmmhmm,” I mumbled back.

Jeff looked at me oddly and I could see the concern in his eyes. My face was going beetroot as the situation went on. “You okay, babe?”

Of course, I was unable to answer with my mouth being stuffed full with Cinta's disgustingly sweaty sock. My eyes darted between the siblings and they turned to look at each other; Jeff in confusion and Cinta in amusement. By now that familiar, awful taste of Cinta's sweat had begun attacking my taste-buds, and as well as being unnerved by the situation I suddenly felt sick. I pushed past Jeff and dashed towards the bathroom.

“What's up with her?” Cinta asked in mock innocence just as I slammed the door behind me.

I stayed in the bathroom for over an hour in shame. Jeff tapped on the door and urged me to come out and tell him what was wrong, but I didn't utter a word in return. Eventually he had to give up and go to sleep as he had a long drive early the next morning.

The morning came, and we parted ways awkwardly. Not on bad terms as such, but he knew something was up. I couldn't even look him in the eyes before kissing him goodbye. He asked once more if there was something wrong. When I failed to answer he walked away scratching his head, seemingly bemused by my bizarre behaviour.

After Jeff had left, I spent the rest of the morning going over in my head how I was to confront Cinta. She'd crossed the line involving Jeff in her games and it was about time I stood up for myself and had a stern word.

When Cinta returned from shopping that afternoon, I was already sitting waiting for her in the kitchen. For once, she was wearing flip flops instead of her usual sneakers. It was a simple wardrobe change but it was enough to distract me from the speech I'd prepared.

I was expecting to catch her unprepared with my lecture, but Cinta dropped her bags and walked straight up to me. “Before I hear any whining from you about last night. I'm just going to say this.” I felt her fingers slip into my hair and grab a handful. It was unexpected and I wasn't able to stop her before she already had a firm hold.

“Oww, stop, please,” I pleaded. My head was already pulled to an awkward angle from the force of her grip.

“No, you stop and listen,” she said. She pulled on my hair a little harder and I went silent. “I love humiliating you with my feet too much. I mean, who would give this up?” She yanked down hard on my hair and I dropped from the chair to my knees immediately from the sudden pain. Before I could react, she'd kicked her flip flop free and shoved her toes in my mouth. “Who else can I do this to whenever I feel like it?” She marvelled in glee.

With Cinta's foot crammed down my throat, I'd suddenly lost both the words and the motivation to put her straight. My arms went limp and I sagged in hopelessness. My mouth was filled with that same horrid taste from the night before; a taste no independent, confident woman should ever have to experience. Could I not consider myself part of that womanly collective any more, now that I could recognise that taste?

I was frozen from trying to wriggle free. Cinta carelessly shook my head around and my mouth made slobbering noises around her toes. It was vulgar and stomach-churning.

“And get this into your thick skull,” she said. She pronounced each word with a further shake of my head. “I am going to do this to you whenever I want from now on.”

She wasn't lying.

The next Friday things stepped up a level after a rather intense workout. Perhaps because Jeff had limited her fun the previous weekend, Cinta had decreed I was to suffer for it.

It was rare that we spent less than two hours at the gym as Cinta really liked to push herself. On that occasion she'd blasted the treadmill for well over an hour, following an intense session on the weights. The result was she was dripping wet with sweat. She'd worn a sports bra under a grey tank top, and the latter was soaked through. Her signature snapback failed to hold back the matted strands of hair, plastered against her glistening forehead.

For once, I wasn't tortured on the drive home. Perhaps Cinta was too exhausted for her usual tormenting, but she spent the whole trip rubbing a cool bottle of water against her cheeks and forehead. I foolishly considered that I may have the rest of the day off from my Friday duties due to her tiredness.

As soon as we were through the front door, Cinta was back to her usual demanding self. “Bring that footstool over here,” she said while snapping her fingers. She flopped down on the couch and lifted her feet in the air expectantly, to which I slid the footstool beneath. I then knelt ready to commence her daily foot massage.

Cinta eyed me mischievously. “I usually have to have a shower straight after you're done rubbing my feet. They just get so hot and stuffy in these sneaks. But you know what, I'm so knackered that I just don't have the energy to get upstairs and my feet are all squishy.” She lifted her sneakered feet an inch off the footstool and tapped them together. “Take em off, wimp.”

As soon as her first sneaker was removed, she thrust her socked foot out and grasped my nose between her clammy toes. I winced at the vinegary scent. Its pungency was far higher than usual and I fought to get away. Cinta responded by hooking her sneakered foot behind my neck and kept me in place. “Don't you dare,” she said through gritted teeth. “You sniff up all that stink.”

I knew better than to deny Cinta what she wanted-that simply wasn't an option-so I sniffed loudly and enthusiastically. At that submission, Cinta settled back and enjoyed my ministrations. She used my shoulder to edge off her second sneaker, and replaced the first foot with the fresher second. I sniffed that socked foot as enthusiastically as the first one.

Cinta got tired of the sniffing and had me remove one of her socks. Her foot was far sweatier than they usually were. There was a sort of grimy film on her sole; a mixture of sweat and dead skin most likely. She looked down at her foot and flexed her sole, airing it out whilst wiggling her toes. I followed her gaze and looked at her disgusting foot anxiously. I dreaded having to soothe that thing in its current condition. I looked back to Cinta's eyes and she was grinning. “Lick it,” she said.

I backed away from her in disgust. I couldn't help my emotions flowing out. “You can't do this to me,” I whined through sobbed tears.

“Yes, I can and I am actually going to like doing this to you,” she said. She used her socked foot to hook my neck and pull me back closer. With her bare foot she rubbed her grimy toes all over my cheeks. She was resting back relaxed with her eyes narrowed in contentment. “Are you going to stop me, wimp?”

My mouth opened to utter an objection, but no words came out. Instead, I slumped in defeat and frowned. My weak spine had even started to disgust myself. I stayed still while she freely teased me with her grubby digits. She pushed them up my nostrils, grasped at my nose, squashed my cheeks together and forced my eyes closed; all without an ounce of resistance.

Eventually Cinta's toes came to rest on my mouth and she tapped them against my lips encouragingly. “Come on, show me how desperate for my toes that wimpy mouth is. I know you loved it the other day.”

And I did it. I don't know what motivated me to do so. Perhaps it was being overwhelmed by the way she was speaking to me, but I did exactly what she wanted. I completely gave up. All resistance and dignity went out of the window as I sank to the lowest point in my life. Even Natalie hadn't brought me down to this level of depravity.

I willingly sucked and slurped all over Cinta's stinky toes while she encouraged and chastised me for being a spineless wimp. I was shameless in my pandering to her whims. I could even catch little whines and moans escaping my lips as I eagerly followed her foot as she twisted and angled it to make sure I licked every inch. The taste was awful and I could feel my stomach turning, but it was just easier to give in and do what she wanted. Resisting was emotionally draining. It was exhausting trying to act strong when I was anything but.

Cinta spread her toes and the silent command was understood. While I moved from toe to toe, slipping my tongue in between and greedily digging out of all of the slimy crud, Cinta crossed her feet at the ankles and raised her arms behind her head in a display of relaxed dominance. “This is the way things should be,” she said, staring at me with utter disdain while I slobbered the sweat from the crevice between the fleshy padding of the balls of her feet and her toes. “This is what a wimp does for a strong woman.”

Cinta's words were jarring. Every single insult cut right into my soul. She seemed to believe that because she was stronger and more confident, it was her right to torment me. Because I was weaker I had to accept whatever she dished out. I was licking her foot just as she wanted, but that didn't seem to satisfy her alone. I could do without the running commentary of the disgusting low I'd sunk to, but Cinta didn't care. All that mattered was her own enjoyment.

“You know, you don't deserve to have a boyfriend, Amy, not any more, especially not my brother. You don't get to have a boyfriend; you get to lick and suck nasty feet from now on,” Cinta said as I ran my tongue up the length of her sole and cringed at her words. I supposed at that moment I couldn't argue that what she was saying was untrue. It was hard to do so with the taste of her sweaty sole still tangy on my tongue. Still, the words cut deep and I felt a tear trickle down my cheek.

I tried to focus on her foot and ignore what she was saying. I set into a rhythmic motion of lapping her sole over and over again. My labouring was mindlessly robotic.

Cinta was relentless though and her cruel words didn't ease up. “Don't you have anything to say?” She taunted me. “Then go on, make yourself useful and clean it up.”

I was doing just that; cleaning her foot for her with my tongue. Gradually, the taste had transformed from acrid sweat to the more natural flavour of her skin; a real testament to the efficient job I must have been doing. Perhaps it was foolish to so enthusiastically do as she wished. If I cleaned her foot too well, she might insist on it being another daily chore.

Cinta pushed her heel into my mouth and my lips formed a suction around it. With the tip of my tongue I could feel the rough skin there and I scratched at it with my teeth. Her eyes widened at the new technique her human pedicurist had come up with. Her tongue flicked against her teeth, ready to lash out another insult like a merciless whip. Thankfully, her phone buzzed and interrupted her.

“Hello,” she said. “Oh, hey bro. Yeah, not much, you know, just back from the gym. What's up?”

I perked up knowing that Jeff was on the other end of the line. Then I remembered what I was doing right at that moment and I felt a flush of shame run through my body right down to the tips of my fingers and toes. I listened to her with interest as she spoke on the phone with her brother; my boyfriend, whilst lapping at her sole obediently as she had demanded.

I licked over and over again. It was like I was now accepting her view; she was stronger and I was weaker. It was almost appropriate that I should be doing it for her to acknowledge I was a wimp and she wasn't. She got to talk to Jeff on the phone while I got to lick her foot.

“Yes, we're getting along great,” she said to my boyfriend. She held her hand over the phone and nudged my cheek with her foot. “Suck on my toes again for a bit,” she said. “I like it when you do that.” That's all that seemed to matter, what Cinta liked, so I sucked her toes. One by one I moved through them, making sure to massage each delicately with my soft and moist tongue. I looked up at her as I worked, but she barely noticed the effort I put in. She was too busy lost in conversation, laughing along with her brother about something I wasn't party to. I prayed she wouldn't tell him what I was doing right at that moment.

“Oh no, she's not here right now,” Cinta said.

I felt relieved that she wasn't going to out me as the pathetic foot-licking wimp I so clearly was now.

“I don't know how to tell you this bro, so I'll just say it. I think she's out with some other guy.”

For the first time in months I felt my spine emerge. I shook with rage at the audacity of her. That lying bitch. I cared for Jeff more than anything and I'd never cheat on him with another guy. A moment of clarity took over and I realised what an idiot I'd been. How could I let it come to this? How could I let this young girl treat me in this way?

Cinta was too lost in ruining my relationship with Jeff to realise that the line had been crossed. While she put the knives into my relationship over the phone, I slapped her foot away and rose to my feet. She immediately looked up at me and for the first time ever I saw a moment of hesitancy take over her. Her mouth hung open as if she was thinking of something to say to rectify the situation, but there was nothing that could stem my anger now that she'd involved her brother in this stupid game she was playing with me. Her eyes darted about and I saw her hand cup over the phone. Cinta had now realised she'd fucked up.

I lunged at her intent on teaching the bitch a lesson. I saw her face brace itself and the foot that I had been licking reflexively kicked up in defence. My attack didn't go as planned. Instead of grappling the little cow and ripping her hair from her head, I caught the heel of her foot clean in the face. Due to the way I'd jumped at her, my full body weight compounded the impact. My head kicked back from whiplash and I felt my neck crick. And my face, oh my poor face. My nose was buzzing and numb. I could feel blood pooling on my upper lip. I'd meant to teach Cinta a lesson and instead I lay there on the floor in a daze.

“I'll talk to you later bro,” I heard Cinta calmly say from behind me. Her foot pushed on my shoulder and I was rolled onto my back. I looked up at the ceiling and saw the pattern of the paintwork spinning. Cinta stood motionless, her hands on her hips and a look of fury upon her face.

I opened my mouth to beg for mercy but Cinta crammed her foot straight in there before I could speak. I looked up at her from the end of her toes; firmly jammed right in my mouth. My eyes watered as I felt the corners of my mouth stretch. She raised up onto the tip-toes of her standing foot and drove the one in my mouth down just a little bit further, enough to make me squeal in agony. The intensity and determination to make me pay in her eyes was clear. “Did you really think you could get one over me, you idiot?” She said. Her voice almost shook in anger. “Even when you had the drop on me. You still came out of it exactly what you are, an utter failure. And where did you end up after your little tantrum? Exactly where you belong. Flat on your back with my foot down your throat.”

My throat could be heard gargling as her toes nestled uncomfortably down there.

“Look at you. You could stop this at any time,” she said. “If you had any backbone, that is, wimp. Your hands aren't tied. But look at them, just lying there useless at your side.”

She was right. My hands were motionless, frozen against the carpet as if I was paralysed.

Cinta shook her head and rolled her eyes. “There's no end to how much of a wimp you are. You continually surprise me.” She pulled her foot free from my mouth and laughed as my saliva dripped from her toes all over my face.

I took a deep intake of breath, relieved to be able to breathe freely. The breathing didn't last long though as Cinta dropped her ass down onto my tummy, winding me in the process. Once settled, she peeled her other sock from her second foot and waved the dirty fabric above my face. “This one is still all fresh for you to enjoy,” she said.

She pointed her big toe at my mouth and I knew there was no point in refusing her. I took the offered big toe in my mouth and bobbed back and forth on it. My cheeks reddened and my eyes closed in shame. I wished my ears could close too as I was forced to listen to Cinta mock me as I slobbered all over her toe.

“So pathetic,” she said. “Yeah, you suck that toe, you spineless wimp. How's it taste?”

I just looked up at her and continued sucking. After about a minute, she pulled her toe from my mouth.

“Look at me,” she said. She leant her face over my own and grasped my chin in her manicured fingers. I was forced me to look straight up into her eyes. “This is where you belong. Got it?”

“Please Cinta,” I mumbled through her fingers. I was exhausted and panting for breath. Her domination was endless and I couldn't endure much more. “This is so wrong. I don't even like your feet. This has gone way too far now.”

“Listen wimp, it doesn't matter whether you like it or not. I made you lick my feet, Amy. It means something when a girl does that for another. It's like an understanding between us; I'm above you and you've admit it. I'd never, ever lick someone's feet, but you, you do it for me whenever I tell you to now.” She leant back slightly and lifted her freshly stinking foot over my face. “Go on, lick it.”

I leant up and took a long lap, the length of her sole, from heel to toes. Once finished, I laid my head back on the carpet and looked up at her awaiting further instruction. It didn't even enter my head not to do as she said and prove her wrong.

“See. You're a foot licker now, ever since your tongue touched my sole that first time, and you'll always be one. Nothing can change that.” She gave me a huge patronising smile to hammer home the truth.

I sniffled and shuddered at her words. “It's just...I don't want to do this anymore, please. I want to have a normal life.” My voice was whiny and desperate.

My pleading got me nowhere with Cinta. “I thought you were getting it, but I'm going to have to put it bluntly for you, aren't I? There is nothing more important in your life than my toes in your mouth!” She roughly squeezed my cheeks together and shook my head violently to exemplify her point. Her fingers then let go and my head dropped back against the carpet. Her foot was over me in a flash and slapped me across the cheek a number of times. “Nothing. Got it?”

“Yes, yes, I get it!” I said. I just wanted the slapping to stop.

“What's the most important thing in your life?” She dug her nails into my cheeks again with enough force to make me wince.

“Your toes in my mouth!”

“Show me!” She held her foot barely an inch from my mouth and wiggled her toes encouragingly. I did what was expected and sucked them worshipfully. “If I say my feet need cleaning, you drop whatever you're doing and get to it. Understood?”

I nodded my head enthusiastically without ever letting her toes leave my mouth.

“You're my wimp,” she said. She pulled her toes from my mouth and I thought the abuse was over. Instead, she grabbed my hair firmly and led my tongue up and down her sole. “My wimp. Mine. Don't you ever forget that.”

“I won’t, Cinta, I won't,” I said breathlessly between licks of her sole. She released my hair but I continued licking anyway.

“That's it. Just give in,” she urged me. “You and Jeff are pretty much over now, so don't hold back. Accept you're a wimp and revel in it. If anything, you should be thankful that I've claimed you instead of your fat friend from uni again. It'll be like a weight off your shoulders, trust me. No more keeping up the charade of being a normal girl. What guy is ever going to want to date a girl that licks another girl's feet? We both know what you are anyway. It's just you and me here now, wimp, so knock yourself out.”

I looked up at her smiling face in utter humiliation and she jiggled her eyebrows as if to heighten my torment. I went for it. I closed my eyes and sucked and slobbered all over that foot like it was my true purpose in life. All the while, Cinta laughed along and clapped her hands in approval above me, berating and encouraging me to debase myself further for her amusement.

“Where's my foot-licking wimp at?” Cinta yelled out the next day as she returned from the gym. I cringed hoping none of the neighbours could hear her through the thin walls.

Now I'd let her stick her gross feet in my mouth and acknowledged her right to do so, I guess there really was no going back. As I'd predicted, another daily duty had seemingly been added to the quota; this the most disgusting by far.

“God, I can't wait to get these sneaks off,” she teased as she took her usual place in the recliner. “I've got them nice and ripe for you today.”

I knelt at her feet without a word and pulled her sneakers off. She was right, they were particularly pungent, but when were they ever not?

“I'm still furious about the way you acted yesterday.” She lectured me as I removed her socks. Her toes were all clammy and red from overuse. Sock lint was plastered to her feet all over, particularly between her toes. I noted that the black slouch socks she wore were brand new; hence all of the extra lint. She'd probably worn them that day on purpose. “You made me do all of that to you. So, you're going to make it up to me. You better be willing and enthusiastic today.”

I tried my best to be what she wanted. I began by kissing her soles affectionately, followed by a soft kiss for each of her individual toes. I thought if I showed her hard-working feet the respect they deserved, it would win me a few points with her. I escalated my worship to a variance of kisses and licks along her soles. The contact of my tongue with her flesh was prolonged, so that I could rub the tip in deeply and massage as I went along. After some attention to her soles, I'd alternate the sensations she was enjoying but sucking delicately on one of her toes. From her sighs my technique appeared to have the desired effect.

“You know,” Cinta marvelled, while sneering down at me as I laboured at her feet. “For a girl that isn't supposed to be gay or like feet, you're really getting into this.”

I paused and considered her words, my lips still wrapped around her toe. Was I really into it? I didn't think so, but from the effort I was putting in I could see why she'd think that. I was just doing what needed to be done to avoid being publicly humiliated in front of all my friends and family. She had the power to do that. She also had the physical power to cause me pain, which I didn't want to happen either. I withdrew my mouth from her foot and looked up at her pleadingly. “Do I have much of a choice?”

Cinta giggled and slapped my cheek softly with her foot. “I guess not.” Then she snapped her fingers and spread her toes, revealing a lot of caked up black lint. “Get in there and eat that up.”

I obeyed immediately and ran my tongue between each of her toes, scooping out the jam she'd worked so hard at the gym to build up, just to humiliate me with.

“God, I love this,” she laughed. “You don't even resist any more, you just do it straight away. That's exactly what I want, you slobbering all over them like you love them, even though I know you don't. And you're like the best motivation to work extra hard at the gym ever. I won't ever think about skipping a session because I'm gonna love having you do this afterwards. Do you actually enjoy it now? What's it taste like? Maybe you'll become addicted to my toe cheese.” She couldn't stop herself from laughing right in my face.

“Of course not. I hate doing this. It tastes disgusting.” I went back in for another lick and came away with more foot funk to swallow. The texture was gritty and grimy, and the taste vulgar.

“Well, that's just too bad. I wish I'd known what a pushover you were when I first moved in. I put up with your nagging for way too long. And you know, I've pushed other girls around all my life, even beat a few up in school. I've had the nerds in class doing my homework.” She paused, grasped both my wrists in her fists and pulled me upwards. As I came up on my knees, Cinta lifted her legs between my outstretched arms and hung her feet together before my face; her big toes parted from the other, smaller toes and pointed towards my mouth. “But none have ever let me do anything like this to them before,” she added.

Her toes hung there an inch or so away from my mouth as she gazed at me expectantly. I looked into Cinta's eyes sheepishly, then opened my mouth and in her toes went. I sucked them like lollipops.

I'd pretty much accepted Cinta's mastery over me in my own home. I did whatever she wanted when it came to her feet and she humiliated me on a daily basis. If her plan from the start was to break me then she had fully succeeded.

However, Jeff threw a spanner in the works. Despite my imaginary betrayal as relayed to him by Cinta, he phoned and texted me constantly asking for an explanation. I largely ignored his calls as I was too ashamed to answer him and tell him the truth. I cared for him deeply. I didn't know whether it was love or not but it was irrelevant now as Cinta had ruined it for me.

He caught me out the one day by phoning from an unrecognised number. I answered thinking it may have been something to do with my job. Once Jeff had me on the line he bombarded me with questions. I didn't want to tell him the truth about everything that had happened with Cinta, as frankly, it was so embarrassing that I'd struggle to get the words out. He asked about the guy I'd been seeing and I couldn't respond to that either as there was no one. The closest thing to making out with anyone was with his little sister's toes, and I couldn't exactly tell that to him.

Eventually Jeff grew frustrated and told me that he'd be driving home the next morning so we could sort things out once and for all. I tried to talk him out of it but he was as stubborn as his sister and was having none of it.

Cinta was spending the night with some guy she'd met at the gym and had her phone turned off. I saw an opportunity to rekindle things with Jeff if she wasn't around. I wouldn't tell him anything that had happened, but I could say that Cinta had made a mistake. Perhaps she'd give up with me if I was back properly with Jeff. My shunning of him was only down to her, so with her out of the house, perhaps it could work.

The next morning, I was ready and waiting. Jeff had texted me that he would be there at around midday. I'd dressed up in my best clothes and spent an age on my makeup, hoping to impress him. I had everything planned out about what I'd say.

Unfortunately, just before midday came around Cinta arrived home. She immediately noticed how much effort I'd put into my appearance and her interest was piqued. “What's going on?” She asked.

With Cinta there, I was already defeated. My confidence had evaporated with her mere appearance. I told her everything. “I'm meeting Jeff for a talk. We're going to sort things out. He's on his way over now.”

“No way,” Cinta said. She shook her head and waved her finger at me. “That's not happening, not a chance.”

“I tried to talk him out of it but he insisted,” I whined.

She ignored me, grabbed my hair and dragged me over towards the couch. “Get under there now. Just like before.”

I dropped to my knees and crawled under the couch, just like the time Cinta used me as a footrest. My head was left protruding from beneath and I could see nothing but the ceiling. Cinta dashed off up the stairs and moments later returned with a blanket. I had no idea what she was up to, but knew it wasn't good news for me when she quickly kicked off her sneakers and removed her socks.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

Cinta sat on the couch above me and unceremoniously planted one of her feet on my face, the other coming to rest beside it with her toe tickling my ear. The toes on my face wiggled around trying to find a comfortable position, with the big toe eventually forcing itself into my mouth. “Shut up and suck on my toe, wimp. I better not hear a peep from you,” she said. She threw the blanket over her legs and I was left in darkness beneath her feet.

Jeff arrived moments later and let himself in. I knew by that point I was already trapped and Cinta had won for good. There was no way I could move from where I was.

“Amy?” I heard Jeff call out.

“I'm in here,” Cinta shouted.

I heard Jeff walk into the room. “Hey sis,” he said. “Where's Amy? She's supposed to be meeting me here.”

“I haven't seen her,” Cinta lied.

I felt Cinta's other foot come to rest on my face, a casual demonstration of her dominance over me. Her toe slipped from my mouth and I knew she was challenging me to say something. I really wanted to speak up and tell Jeff I was there as he had asked me to be. I couldn't bear the thought of losing him for good, even after everything that had happened and the way I'd ignored him. But how could I say anything while down there under the blanket with his little sister's feet all over my face? I wouldn't be able to explain and the humiliation would be beyond thinking about.

I kept silent. The seconds were ticking away and I was running out of time to act. I had a choice to make, so I made it. I found Cinta's foot and I placed a kiss submissively upon it. She had won for good, and right at that moment I completely gave up and admitted her victory. After a few seconds the same big toe pushed against my lips. It was aggressive and dominant in its wants, and I let it force its way in my mouth. I closed my eyes and sucked that toe hungrily while I listened to Cinta destroy any hope of rekindling my relationship with her brother. “I think she said she was going out to meet some guy yesterday. She hasn't come home,” she said.

Jeff was distraught, and I just had to lay there and listen while he tore himself up over my imaginary betrayal. I squeezed my eyes tightly closed and tried to blot out his voice and focus in on all that mattered right then; sucking on Cinta's toe; it probed and flexed against my tongue in victory.

Cinta attempted to comfort Jeff, but unfortunately, she had to get up. Her toe was pulled from my mouth and I noted she was careful to drop the blanket over my head so I wouldn't be revealed. I thought it was over, but I then had to listen to Cinta console my now ex-boyfriend and tell him what an awful person I was. She made up all kinds of nonsense about other guys and how he could do a lot better than me. She eventually convinced him to call up some of his old friends from school and go for a drink to help him get over me. I cringed as he told her what a great sister she was. They hugged and she kissed him on the cheek before he left.

I was welcomed back into the light as Cinta pulled the blanket from my head. I got to look upon her beaming smile. I hated her more than ever for what she'd done to me. Letting her move in had been the worst decision I'd ever made.

“God, I loved that. That was so awesome and naughty,” she said. She clapped her hands in glee. She seemed so wrapped up in her own enjoyment that she failed to comprehend the devastation she'd just forced on my life. It was worse than the last time, because there was finality to it. I was pretty sure Jeff would never speak to me again.

“I know you don't like me, Cinta,” I said through tears. “But how could you do that to your own brother?”

She shot me a viscous look; her eyes narrow and annoyed. “I did it for him, idiot!” She corrected me. “He doesn't know it but I just did him a huge favour. Do you think he'd want to stay with you if he knew what a total loser you are?”

I really had no answer to that, because the truth was horrible. He'd be disgusted with the things his sister had made me do.

Cinta hopped up above me on to the couch and looked down at me between her dangling feet. “It's about time he finally saw sense. You know, you're like the lowest of the low in our family's culture. You lick my feet on a daily basis, that's like... so pathetic. There's no way you could ever my brother again after this. How can you even keep a straight face while suggesting it? There's no way you could ever date anyone!”

I slumped to defeat and my face burned in shame. She was right. So right. I sighed. “So, are you done torturing me now? You've got what you wanted.”

“I suppose I have put you through a lot.” She traced her big toes along my lips. “I'll be honest with you, Amy. I'm not a total bitch you know, I do feel guilty sometimes about the things I do to you.



I imagine myself in your place, if someone was doing this to me, making me suck on their feet? God, I couldn't live with myself.”

For once there appeared genuine concern and sympathy in her voice. I felt the hope brimming within me. Finally, I'd be free of her and her disgusting feet. It'd reached the point where I was more familiar with Cinta's feet than I'd ever been with her brother's dick.

“But I don't feel guilty enough to stop,” she continued. “If someone tried to do this to me, I'd kick their ass. But you, you're a wimp Amy, so I can do this to you whenever I want and I intend to for a long time. Your tongue just feels too good on my toes after a long workout.” She grabbed my chin with her manicured fingers and squeezed just enough to cause me discomfort. I tried to look away but her arm was strong from all of her workouts and kept me in place. She'd been stronger than me from day one, but still, it was absurd the way she manhandled me while sat precariously above on the couch.

“Seriously, what sort of woman let's a younger girl do this to her?” She pushed both of her big toes through my lips and I let them have their way with my mouth. “You know how much fun it is shoving my toes in someone's mouth whenever I want? Especially when they're all icky. It's like the ultimate high to be able to do that to someone; and the fact it's you makes it even better. Come on, tell me, what sort of woman?”

I looked up into Cinta's merciless, yet distinctively Asian eyes. With her toes still lodged in my mouth, and the sound of Jeff's car leaving the driveway; the word came out garbled, but it was clear enough for her to break down laughing.

“A wimp,” I said.

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Hi all, I hope you enjoyed the story. I enjoy writing similar stories along this theme, where one woman dominates another with her feet. I have a patreon if you'd be interested in supporting me and future work. It takes me a while to write these stories so support is much appreciate. I aim to write a new story every month. It's available at patreon and under my username: themaneloco. There's no pressure, and I'll still post the occasional story for free :)

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