I – Simpification

I feel terribly guilty. And annoyed at how small the world can be at times.

I get it, circumstances are what they are. The market for student rooms is so hot and tight right now that it’s a small miracle I’ve found any availability at all. To be honest, this isn’t even a real choice. I either take this deal, or go back home and give up on university this year.

Still, of all people in the universe who happen to have a room available close to campus, does it really have to be Olivia?

Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with her… in fact, my internal conflict is entirely the product of my own shame.

We were in high school together, and I used to bully her. Like… a lot.

I’m not proud of it. I was a bit of an ass. As I sit next to her and we discuss the terms of the rental agreement, I keep wondering if I should bring it up, apologise… my cheeks blush at the thought. If we really must live together then at least I want to start on the right foot, and get this guilty weight off my chest.

But  every time I try to cut in and say “Listen,” she cuts me off. Maybe she just wants to avoid the topic.

I study her. In many ways she looks just like the Olivia I’ve always known. Spindly, no real curves to speak on, mousy brown hair cut short-ish, thick glasses, a bit of a tomboy all around.

Back in high school, it used to drive her crazy how the boys only had eyes for me – the curvy, long-legged redhead with deep green eyes. I knew it was her insecurity, and took every opportunity to drive home just how superior I was to her.

Again… Not proud of it.

Olivia’s lost the glasses – she must be using lenses now – but other than that she’s pretty much the same. Maybe a bit more toned, which wouldn’t surprise me, I’ve seen her at the gym – I only go there sporadically, but apparently she frequents it all the time.

Her demeanor seems different, so maybe it’s helping with her confidence. The insecure, stuttering nerd has morphed into a self-assured young homeowner with a room to rent, and lots of plans for the future.

Good for her. I’m happy the high school bullying didn’t leave any baggage. Still, I want to make one final attempt at setting the record straight before I leave, though.

“Listen,” I say, one more time, more forcefully this time. “It’s a bit awkward I know, but I just wanted to say… Look, I’m sorry. I was cruel. You know, in high school. I take all the blame. It was on me.”

I’m not sure what reaction to expect from Olivia. Will she accept, turn down the apology, simply change the subject? The latter is what the shy nerd she used to be would have done. Instead, she levels a flat, emotionless look at me.

“Yes, Arianna, it was on you,” she says. “But I have a room to rent, and you need a room, and that’s all there is to this. When can you move in?”

Wow. Of all the things I was mentally preparing for, this level of coldness and dissociation is not one of them. Still, I can’t blame her if that’s how she wants to deal with what are at the end of the day unpleasant memories.

The least I can do is indulge her and not rock the boat.

“Next week,” I say in a low voice. Deep down I’m kinda bummed that she seems profoundly uninterested in befriending her new roommate, but such is life.

“Cool,” she says, matter of factly. “I’ll have a roster of our chores ready by then. We’ll have a perfectly even split, and no chickening out. Rent is on the fifth of every month. Other than that, everything is chill with me, do what you want so long as you don’t disturb my study time or my privacy. Do we have a deal?”

I thrust my hand forward to meet hers – damn, she has a strong grip – and do my best to unleash my most charming smile on her. “Deal!”

It seems to have no effect. But well, whatever. I’m sure constant exposure to my positivity will wear her down.

Eventually.

***

I have to admit, it’s not so bad.

I just had to get over my initial embarassment and get to a point where I can appreciate all the perks of living with a solitary, nerdy roommate. No loud parties, no annoying music, no drama.

Of course, it does get a bit lonely… Back in high school, I was something of a queen bee. Now all my pretty and popular friends are far flung all over the country. We Skype every now and again of course, but it isn’t the same.

And Olivia isn’t interested in socialising. We chat over meals sometimes, but she mostly leaves me to my own devices. Which again, is fine, really. It’s just…

Well, lonely.

My life with her is full of these little contradictions. I like that she’s scrupulously fair in our allocation of daily chores – we literally have a white board in the kitchen with the roster planned out, to make sure it’s all equally distributed. I really appreciate the predictability.

On the other hand, it does make me feel scrutinised. I know Olivia is fussy and expects very high standards from her roommate, and the ugly truth is, if she wanted another tenant she’d find one in a second, while I have no alternative to this arrangement.

So, I put extra energy into my cleaning, to make sure everything is spick and span. And I feel Olivia’s penetrating, evaluating gaze on the back of my neck, as I do it.

The loneliness and the expectations of faultless performance at home are getting to me a little. Besides, my residual guilt keeps eating away at me. I decide it’s time to subject Olivia to a true charm offensive. So I buy a nice bottle of wine and offer to share over dinner, and to my delight, she accepts.

A few glasses in and we’re both slightly tipsy – nothing too outrageous, but just enough to loosen the tongue, which is what I want.

Soon enough I find myself completely distracted and engrossed by a toy that Olivia keeps on the table for some reason, one of those drinking bird toys that swing up and down all the time. The motion of the bird makes my eyes lose focus, but I try to track it nonetheless.

“It was really nice of you, to buy this for us,” Olivia says, slightly slurring, nodding towards the bottle of wine. “You should do this more often.”

“I will! I do have a lot to make up to you,” I say, and damn. I meant it as a throwaway comment, but it comes out as a sheepish apology. The subconscious guilt over my previous bullying must be really eating away at me.

Olivia narrows her eyes, and I can almost hear the gears turning in her brain. Is she thinking about that one time I pinned her against the wall in front of the boy she liked, just to prove I was stronger than her? Or all the times I pretended to invite her to one of my social functions, and then stood her up? Or back when Becca impersonated a “secret admirer” who wanted to take her to prom, only to cruelly unveil the truth just days before the event, in front of the whole class?

God… we truly were terrible girls. The guilt is unbearable…

“Tell you what,” Olivia says, rising to her feet and approaching the white board by the table. “You really want to make it up to me? Fine. I’ll scrub my name from one day on this roster, and put yours instead. It’s a little imbalance, but if you really want to apologise…”

I open and close my mouth. I’m not sure dragging our roommate relationship into this is the best idea, but… as I look at the drinking bird, I lose my train of thought.

It’s incredible how regular the motion is, like a metronome.

Up. And down.

“Please do!” I say at last, even though inside I am mortified. Even more time spent feeling pressured and evaluated like Olivia’s my supervisor? Still, my damn mouth has landed me into this predicament, and I can’t back out now. “Think of it as… reparations.”

That sends Olivia laughing, and I realize with a certain start that it’s the first time I’ve seen her truly amused since I’ve moved in. Her eyes light up as she rubs off her name and puts in mine with a black marker.

“Oh, trust me Arianna, I will.”

***

Will I ever make it up to Olivia?

It’s a genuine question. I ask because it’s so hard to quantify these things… and later, I’ve been having more problems than usual with numbers. Especially when I stare at the drinking bird.

Up, and down…

Olivia’s grades are better than mine (up), but that’s hardly news. But I’ve never felt this, well… dull (and down).

How do you quantify years of high school abuse? How many dishes do I need to clean before it’s okay?

It’s been six months.

Over time, more and more chores have been shifted onto me (up), and I’m starting to get a nagging feeling that Olivia is leveraging my guilt so that I do the chores for her (down). It’s just gut feeling though. Maybe because what used to be a 50/50 split has become more, like, 75/25. Or is that 75/15? God, why do I suddenly have problems with numbers?

It occurs to me, rather whimsically, that life is pretty much like the drinking bird. Stuff goes up and down.

Olivia goes up. I go down.

“You should buy me another bottle of wine, girl,” Olivia says, and her voice startles me – it’s like she’s appeared out of nowhere. I gulp. Even through the constant distraction that is the bird, the constant dulling of the senses that is the washing and cleaning that I’m doing, I bristle at the condescension with which she throws that word around.

Girl.

I open my mouth to tell her that, look, I’m sorry for all the wrong I did, but that doesn’t enable you to just boss me around like that. But before I can form words, Olivia’s eyes meet mine – dark, so dark, almost evil – and she says, “you know what, shoes too. I never find a pair of boots that fit me. I’m sure you can find me something nice.”

My eyes glaze over, the bird swinging up and down, Olivia’s eyes drilling into mine, and I feel like I’m tumbling down some endless slide into a terrible abyss and I can barely stop, and then Olivia stands up and walks right behind me, her hands running in my hair…

“You always were a pretty girl…” she says, and there’s a weird edge to her voice I’ve never got to hear before. “Such a shame that you were an evil bitch all through high school.”

I gulped, wanting to defend myself, to ask her to please stop touching me, but I can’t look away from the bird, and her fingers are so possessive as they run through my hair…

“You always had so many simps,” she says. “Doing your bidding all of the time just to gain your favor, or get to spend a bit of time with you, platonically of course. I never got to feel that experience. You made a point of mocking me for it. You and that little venomous bitch, Becca.”

The venom in Olivia’s words makes me recoil. She doesn’t sound at all like the poised, but vaguely avoidant person she was when we discussed the rental agreement. She’s wearing her grievance on her sleeve.

“And look at what you’re doing for me,” she says, sultrily. “Buying me bottles of wine, shoes, cleaning my house for me… It is only right that you make me feel like you felt all those times with those simps, isn’t it?”

“I do… have to make it up to you…” I say, my voice droning on like it doesn’t belong to me. Something about this feels wrong, and I’m trying to fight it, but…

“Must… apologise…”

“That’s it, Ary,” Olivia says, and one hand snakes down my neck to clasp my throat, making me gasp. Her lips press to my ear.

“Simp.”

My heart melts at the word. It’s so humiliating and wrong and something that should have never applied to me – I’m not even into girls, especially not flat tomboys like Olivia! But I’ve been bending over backwards to apologize to her, all this time, so really, can I blame her for labelling me like a simp and a loser?

Well, maybe I can, if only I can pry my eyes away from the bird for a minute. But I can’t, and the more I stare at it, the more my mind feels… soft, pliant. Words and numbers come hard, and so does resistance. I feel like putty in Olivia’s hands.

“What…” I croak, but no more words come out, especially as Olivia’s hand tightens around my throat. Is she implicitly telling me to shut up? When did this confrontation get so… physical? When did she gain the confidence to think she could lord it over me like this?

As if to answer my own question, Olivia grabs me by the shirt, and lifts me in the air. My eyes widen in shock – I know she’s been going to the gym, but damn.

Of course, this is what I once did to her to prove that I was stronger, and now the utter irreversible nature of this role reversal is crushing me like the hammer of a wrathful god. Olivia effortlessly pins me against the wall, her eyebrows cocked in mockery and challenge.

Her muscles ripple with strength. She’s supple where I’m soft. Sharp where I’m dumb. And I feel guilty, so guilty…

Olivia then says something and the words pierce right through my foggy brain.

“You know what, Arianna? You’d look great in glasses.”

***

Olivia circles me like a predator does with prey, stopping inches away from my face. The marble floor resounds to the loud clang of the flat-heeled, equestrian boots I bought her, and the goosebumps I feel aren’t just from the cold floor adhering to my back. They’re of intimidation and fear.

I strain my neck, looking up at Olivia through the glasses she had me buy, imposed on me – yet another reversal on the way things used to work in high school.

She’s still spindly and thin, but I know those muscles pack more than enough power to allow her to have her way with me.  From down here, she looks like a bloody queen, and me the opponent she’s slain.

She stretches one leg right next to me, making a show of checking out the boots I got her. I swallow, praying silently that she’ll appreciate them.

I see the drinking bird even when I sleep, now. It’s one of the two things that never seem to go away. The other is the guilt.

At last, Olivia looks away from the boots, and back to me. I literally put them on for her, kneeling on the ground like a supplicant, and now I’m lying face up at her request, while she walks in circles around me.

“Apologise.”

The word hits me like the coil of a whip. There was a time, mere months ago, where Olivia was actively parrying away all my attempts at discussing our contentious high school relations. But not now. Now, she’s demanding an apology.

Still, I know I was in the wrong, and the truth is, in this house, I’ve swallowed my pride long ago.

“I’m sorry Olivia,” I say in a humble, unassuming whisper. “I was so mean to you. You didn’t deserve it.”

“Not good enough!” She says, like a clap of thunder, and the anger in her voice literally makes my eyes well up. When did I become such a fragile, simpering mess? And when did I become so utterly terrified of this nerd?

But here on the floor, I don’t see a nerd, or even just a tomboy. I see an empress, demanding her due in rightful tribute. It’s impossible for me to ignore the feeling of awe and intimidation that courses through me like a tidal wave when she says, “Beg for my forgiveness.”

I don’t need to think about the words. They come out by themselves.

“I’m worthless without your approval, Olivia,” I say in a low, supplicating voice I’ve never used with anybody. “What I did to you is inexcusable. I’ll do anything to make it right. Anything. Just please…”

I don’t even know what I’m asking for. It just feels right to say please. Like a prayer to a higher being. A call for mercy.

“That wasn’t that hard, was it?” Olivia asks, pushing the tip of her boot against my face. “You know what would make your begging better? If you kissed my boots while you apologised.”

I immediately turn around to prostrate myself, eager to prove to Olivia that I mean every word, that I truly am sorry, that I would do anything for her forgiveness. I shower her boot in kisses, even though a part of me is crumbling inside at the thought of the abject humiliation I’m performing for this girl.

God, imagine if our old class could see us now…

“I’m so sorry Olivia,” I say, in-between pecks of worship and affection on the hard, polished surface of her brand new boots. “I’ll do all the chores!”

“Yes, you will.”

“I’ll do everything you say,” I add, trying desperately to impress her, to coax out of her those words I long for to a point of physical devastation – in my mind, they sound like, yes Arianna, I accept your apology; we can be friends now; you deserve to be a person again. Yet the words never come, and so I keep trying.

“I’ll do everything you tell me. Buy everything you want me to buy.”

As I say this, I somehow transition from kissing to licking her boots, like I’m some kind of eager dog. Oh my god, is that a shutter sound I hear? Is she documenting my debasement with her smartphone?

The prospect of facing utter and irreversible social ruin should be enough to make me stop cold, but what if this is what Olivia requires to finally grant me forgiveness? I redouble my efforts, licking and sucking on the tip, rubbing my cheeks against her boots like I’m her pet.

“Look at her,” Olivia says, presumably speaking into her phone. “The queen bee is secretly a bootlicker. Haha, I love this!”

The tip of her boot finds its way into my mouth, violating it, thrusting up and down. Her other boot is now resting atop my head, keeping me in place as she foot-fucks my mouth. I squirm and thrash weakly under her weight, while she records it all for posterity.

I’m never going to live this down… but if I get to call her a friend at the end, it will be worth it, right?

“Good simps stutter,” Olivia says, thrusting deeper into my mouth. “I’m sure you’ve met your fair share of boys who were so nervous around you they could barely string coherent sentences together, much less keep their dicks hard or be able to satisfy you. That’s how I want you to be around me. So nervous that you can barely speak. Which is your appropriate place in life anyway. You don’t need to speak, just listen… and watch the drinking bird.”

I look up at her with big, submissive eyes, while the tip of her boot fucks my mouth and the sole of the other boot literally prints itself into my face.

“Can you be that for me? Can you learn to stutter, simp?”

Absurdly, I think, she’s beautiful like this. And so, with my lips sealed around the tip of her boot, I nod.

***

I don’t recognize myself in the mirror.

My once glorious, shoulder-length red hair is cut into a short crop, a clear sign by the owner of the house that I’m not allowed to call attention to myself. I wept when she cut it off, and I knew it was a ceremony to mark my new status in the household.

My thick, round glasses make me look like a myopic mouse. Combined with my hair, my stutter, and my ridiculous clothing, they’ve turned me into a parody of a school loser.

I titter on high heels, tight nylons hugging my legs, a frilly maid skirt twirling around me every time I move. The only moment I can be seen with no duster in hand is when I’m humbly massaging Olivia’s feet.

I’ve tried everything I could to hold on to at least a small part of me, but the truth is that Olivia always knows how to leverage my guilt, how to make it seep into every pore, pry me open, shape me, change me. I’m in her debt, and I don’t know what else I’ll have to do to repay it, but I know I’ll never say no.

I feel physically and mentally so much smaller, so much more docile, every day.

I step away from the mirror. With the bathroom cleaned spotlessly, it’s time to go service Olivia the way she demands, the way she deserves to after a tiring studying session.

God, studying… that’s something else I haven’t done in ages. Like skyping with my old friends. Olivia has decided my interactions with them needed oversight, so it’s all channeled through her. My only contact with them is through photos and videos of me frolicking at Olivia’s feet.

They stopped answering after I tried to ask Becca how she was doing while Olivia’s nyloned foot was shoved deep down my throat.

I crawl into Olivia’s room on all fours like a dog, to find her sitting in her armchair, one slender leg draped over the other. Even in her yoga pants and casual t-shirt she looks like a goddess to me now. The mere idea that I once considered myself more beautiful than this conqueror feels ridiculous.

“Hello, simp,” she says with a smile that makes my insides twist in painful longing, and knowledge that I’ll never be good enough to be her friend.

“G-g-g-greetings O-O-Oli…” I say, in the new stuttering bimbo voice she’s imposed on me. By her look of irritation, it’s clear she’s not interested in me talking, and who can blame her? I only have dumb things to say anyway. Things are much easier when I just do what I’m told, and so I resume crawling towards her.

Sitting on the armrest is the damned drinking bird. I always want to ask her about her fixation with this particular toy, but somehow, I never find the words to phrase the question. Especially when it starts bobbing up… and down…

Damn, I must have spaced out again. Olivia is leering at me, laughing at my predicament.

Before I can react, her right foot hooks behind my neck, pulling me closer. The other foot slaps against my cheeks, a stinging humiliation to remind me that I have so much to atone – but also that she’s more than capable of physically subduing me and beating me up, if she wants to.

I better behave.

I look up with my big dumb eyes – Olivia always calls them dumb anyway – while her toes sneak past my lips. I begin gently fellating them, moaning and humping the air behind me.

Olivia has been withdrawing my orgasms for months.

I think it’s a way to associate her feet with sexual pleasure, and since I have no other form of contact with humans besides her, on some level, it’s clearly working… just the thought of giving her toes a blowjob makes me feel so wet. Kneeling here, before her, taking what she sees fit to give me…

But her official explanation is that bullies have no rights to cummies, not until they’re fully reformed. And to hear her talk about it, it’s clear we still have a long way to go.

I’m being foot-fucked into my place, and that’s surely going to help rectify my bully past. I’ve outwardly and inwardly accepted my need for penance, and Olivia’s expression as she reads my defeat on my face is priceless.

She looks lost in triumph and rapture as my lips follow every single movement of her toes, lavishing them with my truest apologies. What says sorry louder than giving someone’s feet a tongue bath?

“How does it feel, knowing that this is as good as it’s going to get? That you’re never going to get access to any part of me, but my feet?”

I shoot her an empty look, never interrupting my dutiful fellatio of her toes – each in turn first, then more and more at once. And then, Olivia’s whole foot slides into my mouth, the palm adhering to my tongue as the toes inch towards the entrance to my throat.

“I know, I know,” Olivia says, one foot pushing me deeper onto the other, until it’s practically impaling me. “I’ve ruined you to such a degree that you could barely muster the words to answer me. I bet you really regret being a bully now.”

I do, I do! I can’t say so, and I settle for the next best thing, which is to gag and moan and squelch as Olivia’s foot facefucks me into submission, methodically pistoning in and out of my throat like it’s a giant cock.

“Speaking of degrees… I don’t think you really need one.”

“Mmmmpphhh?!?!” I ask, my eyes widening in horror. A degree is the whole reason why I took up this rental agreement in the first place! It’s why I’m here! What will I even do without one? What would my future possibly hold without one?

I wish I could get over it with this foot fucking session, so I could express my verbal reservations to Olivia. Instead, I keep going gluk gluk gluk around her foot, while she laughs at me.

“That’s it,” Olivia says, facefucking me. “Look at me with those glassy eyes. There’s barely any room for despair in there any longer. You’d do anything for me, and I want you to quit university. You should devote all your time to try and atone for your horrible behavior towards me in high school. I will tolerate no distraction from this task.”

I don’t react, lost in the overwhelming shocks travelling through my entire body. Just like that, Olivia has tossed my entire future away, decreeing my punishment to be something like, I don’t know…

Modern-day slavery?

Am I really going to let her do this to me?

… Am I ever going to stop sucking on this foot so I can even speak?

One more time, Olivia’s foot plunges downward, reaching the entrance to my throat, as her eyes drill into mine. And I know the answer.

As I throw myself deeper into the deepthroating of her feet, doing my best to moan and whimper now that words no longer belong to my repertoire of communication, I realize that this is my sentence, my rightful punishment, and I will do all it takes to complete my atonement.

Even if it means serving Olivia for however long she thinks is necessary.

And so, as I accept my surrender and enslavement and the first onset of an orgasm begins to ripple through my sex, the movement of my slutty head finally matches that of the drinking bird, bobbing in perfect sync as I lavish Olivia’s foot with my mouth.

Up. And down.

II – Stuttering Sappho

The same, but different.

It’s weird how, in a situation like this, pinned to the floor in my own home, that’s the first thought my brain readily supplies.

Or is it the first? I don’t really know, at this point. It’s like I’m floating. But at least I have that one thought to orient me.

Same, and different.

That’s how the two girls look to me, one crouching above my chest, pinning my wrists to the ground, the other standing tall above me. I’ve known them for so many years, but they’re different from the image I have of them in my head.

Arianna’s red hair, which once descended down to the small of her back in a fiery mane, is now cropped boyishly short. Not the kind of stylish short, either… it’s messy and graceless.

Even stranger, she’s wearing glasses. Thick-rimmed, mousy glasses that make her look like the kind of hopeless nerd she and I used to bully in high school.

“Mmmh, Becca,” she says, her lips nuzzling the side of my neck, making me shiver all over as her body adheres to mine.

She’s pinning me down, now, but when my eyes meet hers, I see no life, no intellect, no emotion behind the glasses. In fact, her eyes look like they’re made of glass themselves… lucid, unfocused, wandering.

I haven’t spoken a single word to Ari ever since what I think of as the… incident… when she tried to Skype with me while she guzzled a woman’s foot deep into her mouth. It was gross, and the last of a litany of bizarre events where Ari seemed determined to shove all her new sexuality into everyone’s face…

But now, I’m less certain. She’s Ari, of course, but she doesn’t look like her. The way her eyes seem to be constantly rolling upwards, the pout in her lips, the way she seems to mindlessly grind her crotch against my belly as she pins me down, the nylons and frilly skirt she’s wearing…

Oh, and then, of course, there’s the other girl, who’s also same but different.

I look up at her with a strange, lazy movement of my head. I know I’m in danger, that these two girls have made their way into my home uninvited, and assailed me, but… it all feels so distant, like it’s happening to someone else.

Olivia is as spindly, flat-chested, and tomboyish as I remembered, but in subtle ways, she’s clearly changed. Her form-fitting clothes speak of self-confidence she didn’t have in high school.

I swear I see some real muscle tone under her tight black shirt, too… every time she crosses her arms, her biceps bulge in a way that’s difficult for me to ignore.

And while Ari seems to have gained glasses, Olivia has lost hers. Her penetrating gaze fixes on me, and she leers in my direction, like she’s laughing at a joke I’m not yet privy to.

She’s holding something in her hands. It’s a… toy, of some sorts, I’m not sure… my gaze is drawn to it, but at the same time, it’s like I’m not really, really seeing it. What I see instead is Olivia’s eyes, shining like distant stars, leering at me from above the toy… which seems to be moving…

Questions cross my mind at speed, fleeing it soon after. What are they doing in my home? What has Olivia done to Arianna? What’s with the damn toy I can’t seem to focus on?

I can’t ask any of these questions. They slip through my fingers, like flowing water.

I’m all too aware of Arianna’s body, so soft and warm as it presses against me, her nyloned legs entwining with mine to keep me physically subdued.

Whenever her hips buck against the crotch of my jeans, a jolt of electricity goes through me.

I find myself bucking back.

“That’s so good to watch,” Olivia says, her eyes narrowing in pleasure at my improper display. “When a girl begins to unravel. When she starts to hump the air. When she’s open and eager, ready to get off at a single word… or a command…”

It’s only after she’s spoken that I realise, with a mixture of surprise and horror, that Olivia has been talking all this time. Worse, I realise that her last words are off script, like an interruption while she was reciting something to me.

A recess of my brain, a primitive part of my mind I didn’t even know existed, is trying to warn me that I’m in danger, mutely beating against a glass pane that isn’t supposed to be there, that is splitting my mind in two.

For the first time in what feels like forever, I’m alert.

I can see the toy.

It’s a… bird. A drinking bird, or something like that. Fire engine red, on a light blue base, and it swings eternally up and down.

Up… and down…

I press my nails into my palms, to prevent the daze from returning. I have to stay awake. Olivia is holding the bird, but she scrupulously avoids looking at it.

I have to do the same. With every ounce of willpower I can muster, I focus my eyes on Ari above me – I know, to my horror, that if I don’t resist, I’ll end up just like her.

That’s when I stop thinking, and I start panicking.

I begin to flail and roll around, trying to get Ari off of me. I grunt and push to no avail – Arianna simply slithers up my body, and her nyloned thighs position themselves on either side of my face. Her knees now pin my arms to the ground, and her hands…

Her hands now clench in an iron grip around my face, forcibly turning it in spite of all resistance.

I silently beg Ari with my eyes. What are you doing? I want to ask her. I’m your friend!

But Ari can only stare back at me with empty eyes, as she forces my head back towards the bird.

Too late, I try to close my eyes but it’s too late – the swinging motion of the bird captivates my pupils like magnetism. Wherever it goes, they follow. Up, and down.

“Nice try, Becca,” Olivia says with a smirk. “But it isn’t going to work. We have a score to settle, you and I.”

I let the words worm their way into my ears. Ari notices my lack of resistance, and releases the grip on my face, withdrawing from me, beginning to stand up. Truly, force is no longer needed. I can no longer look away from the bird.

Olivia shuffles close to me, always careful to keep the bird straight at the center of my view. I feel something prod against my cheek, lifting my head upwards. Through my peripheral vision, I think it’s…

Olivia’s sneaker.

I think back to that Skype call, to Ari deepthroating a foot like a champ right after calling me. A woman’s foot.

I mewl, desperately trying to pry myself from the damn bird, but it’s like I’ve been glued to the floor. I can’t move.

“Kiss my shoe,” Olivia says, and I want to tell her no, that I’m not Arianna, that this is illegal and it’s gonna land her ass in prison. I don’t see how I could even comply if I have to keep staring at the drinking bird.

And yet, I turn sideways of my own volition, rubbing my cheek against Olivia’s sneaker like I’m her cat, purring in heat and submissive desire. What? How long have I been under? Has she already changed me?

Either way, I rain kisses upon the sneakers, my lips travelling from front to back, and top to bottom. I start licking the dirt off them, the grime building up on my tongue, and even with my eyes turned downward, it’s like I’m still seeing the bird.

Even when I close my eyes…

With a muted umph, I let out a breath as Arianna climbs atop me, her shoeless nyloned feet padding against my body as she walks up and down the length of me.

I whimper and thrash weakly, my eyes travelling upwards again, towards the bird… And Olivia.

“You know, with Ari, I had the luxury of prolonged exposure over time,” she says, popping off her sneakers one at a time. “But with you, well… I need a more… brute force method.”

The socks go next, the sweaty scent assailing my nostrils as I plead silently at her with my eyes. But Olivia knows no mercy. Her toes sneak past my lips, and I begin servicing them with my tongue, like I know what I’m doing and I’ve done this a million times before.

I let out a series of throaty moans, as Arianna’s feet begin to rub against my crotch.

“And by brute force, I mean this,” Olivia says. “Cum harder than you ever have in your life.”

No sooner has she finished speaking, that my entire perception of the world is lit on fire.

My heart begins racing in my chest, my skin tingles everywhere, my pupils dilate, my breathing becomes ragged. This is no build-up towards a climax, no. The climax slams directly against me, like an asteroid falling out of the sky.

I would shout, but for Olivia’s foot gagging me. Even so, I squirm and thrash and moan and whimper, while the strongest orgasm I’ve ever felt ripples outward from my defeated sex, my pussy spasming beneath Arianna’s feet.

“That’s it,” Olivia says. “That is the measure of my power over you. I can make you cum with words alone. I can get you off at the snap of my fingers. Did you really think you could resist me?”

Olivia’s expression is terrifying. She hates me, I know, and she’s enjoying it. She has… reduced me. I’m at her mercy. She can do things to me with no accountability, and all I can do is beg…

“You haven’t said a word since I put you in your place,” Olivia says, while Arianna’s nyloned feet rub ever more incessantly against my pussy. “Try now.”

That’s not a question or a challenge. It’s an order. Olivia even withdraws her foot from my mouth, and I take in lungfuls of blessed air, before finding it within me to obey her, and speak.

“P-p-p-p-please…” I say, and my eyes widen in shock at my own voice. Mousy. Aroused. Unassuming.

Stuttering.

“D-d-d-d-do it again,” I say, and then I go slack-jawed in shock and horror. What is happening to me?

Above me, Olivia laughs a cruel, pure laughter. Then, she thrusts her foot back into my mouth.  

“I don’t think you appreciate the beauty of the trigger I’ve constructed,” Olivia says, her toes toying with my palate and my tongue. “Let me give you a practical demonstration. Becca… cum harder than you ever have in your life.”

I barely have the time to stare at her in fear and shock, as a devastating climax hits me like a sledgehammer. My neurons misfire, every muscle in my body spasms and quivers of its own volition.

I arch my spine in despair, with Olivia’s feet in my mouth and Arianna’s feet on my spasming pussy, as the pleasure washes away everything in its path like a tsunami. It transcends my ability to describe it, even to experience it in full. It exceeds the edges of my perception.

The climb down is darkened by a terrible realisation.

Each time she speaks the trigger, the orgasm is stronger than the one before.

The dial keeps being turned up.

What happens if she keeps going…?

“I see you understand,” Olivia says, the glimmer of triumph in her eyes, and I do, I do. I redouble my effort to worship her foot, to give her toes a tongue bath. Each time I hollow my cheeks and suck, I’m really praying non-verbally. Please don’t destroy me.

“Remember that cruel prank you pulled on me, Becca?” Olivia asks, her tone suddenly ominous and cold. “When you pretended to be a secret admirer, and stood me up at prom?”

As her foot slides deeper into my mouth, stretching my cheeks and worming its way down towards the entrance of my throat, all I can do is nod frantically.

“I think it’s time you became my not-so-secret admirer for real,” she says to me. “You will love me with all your heart. Desire me with all your strength. You will profess your love for me to anyone who will listen, all the time… and always stuttering like the sapphic simp you deserve to be.”

Nooo, no no no… what she’s saying is… it will be the end of my social life, no one will take me seriously, I will be unable to even talk properly, or speak of anything else to anybody! I’ll do her bidding, day and night!

And – I realise as her words begin to take hold – I will want her. More than anything I’ve ever wanted or could ever want. And I’ll never, ever have her.

She’ll never love me back, never hold my hand, never allow me to even get off my knees in her presence.

Oh God… It hurts…

“I want you to think about it,” Olivia says, as her foot finally sinks all the way in, impaling my throat. Tears pool in my eyes, and begin to roll down my cheeks, as I slobber and cough and gag. “Think of how much you love me now. Think of how badly it hurts that you’re nothing to me but dirt beneath my shoes, not even a person or a pet, but a disgusting piece of trash. Fix the hurt into your mind.”

“And then,” she continues, looking down at me in utter disgust and contempt. My heart is breaking, my clit is throbbing like crazy, and my mind, I don’t even know what’s happening to it, my mind is –

“And then, cum harder than you ever have in your life,” Olivia says. And for a moment, I see only black.

When the world returns, I scream in pain. My muscles have tensed so much that I have a cramp in my left calf, and it hurts like crazy, it hurts as badly as my broken heart does right now. I thrash desperately on the floor, but Arianna balances atop me, pinning me down.

And Olivia’s foot pistons methodically in and out of my squelching throat.

“I’m going to make you cum harder and harder until something snaps, literally or metaphorically,” Olivia says, as I begin to gluk gluk gluk around her foot. “I’m going to make you cum your brains on the fucking floor.”

The tears running down my face are no longer just from the deepthroating. She thinks I’m a pig, a poor excuse for a human being. I love her with all my heart, I yearn to shout it to the world, but she hates me.

“That’s it,” Olivia says, facefucking me. “God I love the pain in your eyes. Ari I just enslaved, but you… you deserve so much worse, Becca, for what you did to me. And I’m going to make sure you get it. And then some.”

“I’m going to turn the dial up to the max,” she says, her eyes glimmering with triumph and hatred. “Beg me not to. If you can.”

Arianna digs the heel of her nyloned foot harder against my defeated cunt. “D-d-d-destroy her,” she says, stuttering. “We both d-d-deserve it!”

I try to remove my mouth from Olivia’s foot, to beg her to please never let me cum again, to leave my mind intact, to let me just love her… I’ll do everything she wants and ask for nothing in return, except my mind, please let me keep my mind…

But Olivia refuses to let me go. Her foot chases my fleeing face and pins it to the floor, plunging at the entrance of my throat, while her eyes lock onto mine.

“My stuttering Sappho,” she says. “Cum harder than you ever have in your life.”

And, as my limbs flail and thrash so hard that I’m basically having a seizure, and I feel the horrible, snapping sound my mind makes as it begins to crumble, the one fixed point that remains inside my broken brain is that I love Olivia with all my heart.

And I deserve everything she’s going to do to me.

THE END