The lock clicks open.

In the dead quiet of the late evening, it feels loud as thunder. I’m sure my anticipation doesn’t help, either. I’ve been obediently standing by the door, waiting for my… bigger sister… to get back from the party.

The party where I wasn’t allowed to go, because I had chores to finish.

By the time the door begins to swings inward, I’m already on my knees. Every joint in my body aches and complains about that — cleaning in a servile and thorough fashion takes its toll, more than I would have guessed — but it’s my brain that’s leading the way here. My throbbing clit.

My addiction to my own sister…

The door swings open and Slava staggers slightly as she enters, her cheeks flushed, eyes glassy but bright with an unsettling intensity.

She’s drunk.

She steps inside, her gait slightly unsteady, but her smile is anything but uncertain as she takes in the sight of her elder-yet-lesser sister, folded slavishly on the ground in her shadow.

She's pleased with herself, giddy: she knows I've been waiting for her, of course I've been waiting. The streetlight slants in through the curtains and casts her in gold and shadow.

When did I start thinking of my sister as beautiful, not just on an object level, but subjectively gorgeous? Superior? Worthy of worship? Even… sexy…

"Look at you! Such a well-mannered little sister. Go on then."

My trembling lips find the smooth, glossy black leather of Slava's right boot. I press a soft, reverent kiss to the toe. Just like the first time, I slowly and worshipfully trail my lips along the surface of the boot, from toe to ankle.

I’m my sister’s supplicant. My sister’s shoe attendant. My sister’s doormat. This act is due, it’s a homage to a superior, a physical demonstration of my submission to my younger-yet-bigger sister. To my conqueror. To my tamer. To my better.

And just like the first time, the more I go on, the bolder I grow. My kisses become sloppier. Slava didn’t really stop me, the first time, but she feels even more willing to let me continue now. Maybe because she’s drunk.

I can feel myself growing wet between my legs, arousal and shame coiling hotly in my belly. What kind of sick freak gets turned on by debasing herself like this? By groveling at her little sister's feet?

I'm practically making out with her boot now, putting as much tongue into my kisses as I can. I work my way back down to the toe, sealing my lips around it to gently… fellate it?

That realization makes me stop, for just a moment. What the fuck is wrong with me? We’re getting closer and closer to the line, the line where I’ll no longer be able to rationalize that what we’re doing isn’t that taboo…

Why doesn’t the thought deter me from acting like a wanton sisterslut?

I glance up at Slava through my lashes. Her eyes are heavy-lidded but laser-focused on me, her lips parted. She's breathing harder than usual. Is it just from the walk up the stairs in her inebriated state? Or is she getting off on seeing me debase myself like this?

God, I hope it's the latter. I hope my submission turns her on as much as it does me.

I keep my eyes locked on hers as I part my lips and take the pointed toe of her boot into my mouth a second time. I swirl my tongue around the tip, coating the leather with my spit, bobbing my head slightly as if I'm sucking her off.

Slava’s breath hitches, but she does not stop me.

There's something different about her scrutiny tonight, something hungry and raw. Maybe it's the alcohol lowering her inhibitions, but she's looking at me like she wants to devour me whole. Like a predator eyeing her prey. Like a queen regarding her conquered subject.

And I am conquered, aren't I? Completely and utterly. By my own sister, no less. It’s as debasing as it’s hot… or maybe the relationship is purely causal. It’s debasing because it is hot, and it’s hot because it’s debasing…

I hollow my cheeks and suck harder, creating an obscene wet sound that I’m sure will have been audible by all the neighbors. I don’t care. It’s like the rest of the world isn’t real right now. All that exists is me, and her, and her power over me. Time seems to melt away. I could stay like this for hours…

But all too soon, Slava grows impatient.

I can’t help the pitiful whine that escapes my lips when Slava withdraws the boot. Fortunately for my addict ass, she shifts her weight and extends her other boot.

No words are needed. Worship this one too, little sister. Put on a show for me… slave.

I hasten to obey, pressing my lips to the toe of her left boot with a soft whimper of surrender.

Above me, Slava sways slightly on her feet, one hand braced against the wall for balance. But her eyes never leave me, tracking every move of my worshipful mouth on her footwear.

As I work my way up this boot, my ministrations become even more overtly sexual. I lave the leather with my tongue in long, slow strokes, tracing the stitching and savoring the taste. I moan around the tip like a bitch in heat. I offer up every last shred of my dignity as tribute to her superiority.

And so, when I reach the top, I don’t stop. I kiss and lick upwards, brushing daring kisses against the hem of her jeans. My lips hover at the border where denim meets boot, trembling with the desire to keep going, to worship my way up her leg…

Slava suddenly reaches down and fists her hand around my hair, pulling me away from her boot like she’s tugging on a leash. "I never knew my sister was such a fucking whore. Rein yourself in, little sis. Get my boots off and fetch my slippers. Then I’ll decide what I want to do with you…"

I wasn’t expecting Slava to actually acknowledge the incestuous character of what we’re doing out loud, and so casually, too, like she isn’t fazed by it in the slightest. Somehow, that sobers me up a bit. It makes me go redder than a pepper.

It makes me squirm with shame and maybe guilt, because I was the one to make this weird, ever since the first time she physically subdued me. Have I been… corrupting her?

Now would be a great time to stop. Some lines have been crossed, but not the line, not yet. There is a way back from this yet.

But even as the thought is running through my head, I find myself taking Slava’s boots off, fetching her slippers, and sliding them over her beautiful feet.

Beautiful feet…

"Don’t forget to say thank you."

I nod, trying my best not to tremble like a leaf from sheer adrenaline and arousal, and find my voice. "Thank you, big sister. Thank you for letting me kiss your beautiful boots. I'm so grateful to be your lesser sister."

She walks past me without further acknowledgement, and I take that as my cue to get up. I follow in her footsteps like a well-trained puppy as she turns on the lights and surveys the spotless apartment with a smug smile. "Mm, you've been busy, I see. Everything looks perfect. Such a good little sister. Slaving away at chores while I partied…"

"I did as you asked."

"Of course you did." Slava takes a step closer, her slipper brushing my knee. I feel her gaze bore into me. "You always do as I say now, don't you? My obedient big sister."

God. It turns me on so fucking much, how easily she unstitches me with a few words. It’s not enough for her to be physically superior to me, not enough for her to be more popular and have better grades, why does she have to possess such a way with words, too?

It’s my fault. I’ve given her the keys to the kingdom. I’ve shown her exactly which buttons to push, to completely dismantle all of my defenses.

She’s dominated me at every turn, but I have been the corrupting force that turned a simple wrestling match into… this. If she’d let me keep going earlier, I would have kept kissing up. I would have… would have…

"It's late," I manage to say. "You should get some rest-"

Suddenly, she pushes me, a playful shove that catches me off guard. I stumble slightly, my heart pounding in my chest. I look up at her, startled, meeting her eyes. They're bright, gleaming with amusement and something else. Something darker.

"Slava…" I begin, my voice a whisper. But she pushes me again, this time with more force.

I stumble back, my balance thrown off by Slava's sudden shove. But before I can fully regain my footing, she's on me again, her hands gripping my shoulders as she pushes me roughly against the wall. The impact knocks the breath from my lungs and I gasp, staring wide-eyed at my sister's flushed, grinning face.

"What's the matter, big sis?" she says, her words slightly slurred but no less cutting for it. "You don’t enjoy being roughed up? I thought you liked it when I put you in your place…"

Her knee slides between my thighs, pressing upwards, and I can't stifle the moan that escapes my lips. The heat of her body, the pressure of her leg against my crotch, it's too much. I'm melting, surrendering, even as some distant part of my mind screams that this is wrong, that we've already gone too far.

"Slava, wait," I say, panting, but there's no conviction in my voice. "We shouldn't… You're drunk, and I…"

"Shhh," she hushes me, one finger pressing against my lips. "Do not presume to second-guess me, sister-slut."

With that, she spins me around, twisting my arm behind my back in a practiced move that sends a jolt of pain-laced pleasure straight to my aching cunt. She kicks my feet apart, off-balancing me, and then she's pulling me down to the floor.

We land in a tangle of limbs on the floor, Slava straddling my hips, pinning me down with her weight. I struggle halfheartedly, writhing beneath her, but it's all for show. We both know I'm exactly where I want to be - trapped and helpless under my younger sister's dominant form.

"Theeere you go," Slava says, grabbing my wrists and slamming them to the floor above my head. "Struggle for me, little sis. Pretend you don't want this. We both know the truth…"

She leans down, her lips brushing against my earlobe, her hot breath sending shivers down my spine. "You want to be conquered. Mastered. Put in your place by your better in every way…"

I whimper pathetically, my hips bucking upwards of their own accord, seeking friction, seeking more. She's right. I've never wanted anything as badly as I want her to utterly subjugate me right now.

Slava laughs, theatrically arching an eyebrow, and grinds down against me in a slow, deliberate roll of her hips. The seam of her jeans rubs deliciously against my clothed sex and I see stars, my back arching off the floor.

"Fuck!"

"I had no idea my sister was such a dyke," she says, giggling. "A submissive, incestuous, weak dyke. You’re just ripe to be exploited, you know that?"

Slava’s body flows over mine as she repositions behind me, her legs stretching and flexing as they snap shut around my neck like the jaws of a predator. She hooks one leg over the other to trap me into a figure-four headscissor. The back of my head is pressed into her crotch, and my windpipe is trapped in the hollow behind her knee as her calf presses against my throat.

She’s stronger than me, as I very well know, but I still wonder where the hell she got such strong leg muscles. They’re like steel.

In this sitting position, she can lean forward and stare at me from above. Her loose hair hangs down, tickling at my cheeks as I stare up at her with wide, fearful, submissive eyes.

She’s a goddess.

"Gggkkhh," I choke out, my hands scrabbling uselessly at her legs. It’s purely performative, of course, she’s not squeezing that hard. The symbolism is what actually matters here. She has me completely at her mercy, and the wicked gleam in her eyes tells me she knows it.

Her strong thighs frame my face, the back of my head nestled snugly against her crotch. I can feel the heat radiating from her. She’s turned on, too…

And drunk…

I squirm in her grip, writhing between her legs, but it's a futile effort. She's too strong, her leggy hold too secure. I'm well and truly trapped.

Slava leans forward, bracing her hands on the floor on either side of my head. Her hair falls around us like a curtain, blocking out the rest of the world until she's all I can see, all I can focus on. Those piercing eyes boring into mine, that wicked smirk playing on her lips.

"Look at you," she says, her voice low and throaty with arousal. "You’re really turned on by this. Did you engineer the whole thing? Or was the first match genuine, and me mopping the floor with you did something to fuck you up in that dyke brain of yours?"

She punctuates her words with a flex of her thighs, making me whimper as her calf digs deeper into my throat. Not enough to hurt, but enough to remind me of my place. Beneath her. Conquered by her.

"Not that you have much of a brain. You’re not cut out for uni and independent professional life, honestly. All your energies should be devoted to making my life easier. I want you as my maid. My sister pet. I want you as my… slave…"

My head is spinning, dizzy with arousal and disbelief at Slava's words. Slave. She wants me as her slave. The word echoes in my mind, sending shivers of fear and excitement racing through me.

It’s out in the open, at last…

And then, abruptly, the pressure around my neck eases as Slava releases her hold. Before I can even begin to process what's happening, Slava is moving again.

She kneels beside me, her left knee coming to rest heavily against my throat, pinning me to the floor. I can feel my pulse fluttering wildly beneath her weight, my breath coming in shallow pants. She towers over me, a dark goddess, cruel and beautiful.

With her right hand, she slides one hand under her jeans and begins to rub herself, her hips rolling in a sinuous motion. A low moan escapes her lips and my eyes widen in shock. Is she really…? Here? Now? While holding me down?

"Mmmm, yes," she says, her voice thick with desire. "Look what you do to me, sister-slut. Look how wet I am, just from putting you in your place. From seeing you so desperate to submit to me…"

I can't tear my eyes away from the movement of her hand between her legs. My mouth waters with the sudden, all-consuming urge to taste her… my own sister…

"And as for you," Slava says, withdrawing her hand from her jeans and reaching down to cup my sex through my pants, "let's see just how much you're enjoying this…"

I gasp as her fingers press firmly against my clothed cunt, my hips bucking involuntarily into her touch.

"Slava, wait…" I say, even as my body arches traitorously into her caress. "This is… we can't…"

But my feeble protests die on my lips as she begins to rub me through my jeans. Pleasure lances through me, hot and sharp, and I moan brokenly, my hands fisting uselessly at my sides.

Her knee presses down a fraction harder on my throat, making it clear that she’s not interested in what I have to say, but rather in what my body has to say. And unfortunately for me, my body is on fire with pure, unfiltered sensation, every nerve ending sparking with desperate, forbidden need.

And then, Slava's weight shifts. Her hand leaves my crotch, making me whine at the loss, but before I can protest further, she's moving. Straddling my face.

My eyes fly open, going wide with shock as I find myself staring directly up at the crotch of her jeans. And then, as she completes her descent, I see nothing at all.

I can smell her arousal, and my mouth waters with the sudden, overwhelming urge to press my lips there. To nuzzle and lick and suck at her through the fabric until she's grinding against my face, riding my tongue…

Oh god. What is happening to me?

Slava settles her weight more firmly as she presses her crotch flush against my face. The message is clear - this is my place now. Beneath her. Serving her. Existing only for her pleasure.

"Breathe it in, sisterslut," she says. "Breathe in the scent of your owner."

Owner. The word ricochets through my mind like a gunshot. It's so final, so undeniable. So deeply, troublingly arousing.

Helpless to resist, I do as she says. I inhale deeply, filling my lungs with the heady, intimate scent of my sister's sex.

"Kiss it. Kiss the pussy that’s conquered you."

I can't believe this is happening. I can’t believe she’s just said that out loud. I can’t believe I’m so horny that I can barely think straight…

With a whimper of surrender, I pucker my lips and press a soft, reverent kiss to the seam of Slava's jeans.

I feel her shudder above me, hear her sharp intake of breath. The symbolism of this is breathtaking. It’s not even just the fact that it’s so erotic, that I’m kissing my sister’s sex, it’s the gesture of self-debasement, the connotation of humility, the acknowledgement of her superiority. The final admission of my failure as the bigger sister, and my ultimate dethronement to Slava’s little maid and pet.

We’re crossing line after line, hurtling towards a point of no return. It's too much and not enough all at once.

I feel Slava's weight lift from my face as she stands up. For a moment, I'm left blinking in the sudden light, my mind reeling. But then I hear the unmistakable sound of a zipper being undone.

No way. She’s not really going to…

But she is. Slava shimmies out of her jeans and then, without hesitation, hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and slides them down her legs.

I stare up at her, transfixed, as she towers over me, naked from the waist down.

My own sister.

Wrong. It's so wrong. But I can't look away.

Slava smirks down at me, clearly reveling in my slack-jawed awe. She steps forward, planting one foot on either side of my head, and then she's lowering herself back down.

Back onto my face. Onto her throne.

I have a split second to draw in a sharp, shaky breath before Slava's cunt is pressing against my mouth. Hot, wet, musky. Utterly intoxicating.

Her weight settles fully on me and I'm consumed by her. Surrounded. Smothered. She's everywhere. Her scent, her taste, the slick slide of her flesh against my lips and tongue.

"Worship me," Slava says, her voice slurry thick with lust. "Put that mouth to good use, sister-slut. Make me come on your face."

I’ve never… never done this before. I don’t know if what I’m doing is right, or whatever, but Slava certainly seems to be enjoying it. I lap at her cunt like a kitten, I alternate between her lower lips and her clit, I moan and writhe feebly underneath her. It’s very warm, here, trapped under her, and it’s only one of the reasons why my face feels like it’s on fire, but I don’t dare complain.

I merely serve the victor’s cunt.

I seal my lips around her clit and suck, gently at first, then with increasing pressure. Slava cries out, fisting a hand in my hair to hold me in place as she begins to ride my face in earnest.

Her thighs clench around my head, trapping me, forcing me to breathe her in with every desperate gasp for air. She grinds her cunt against my mouth, coating my cheeks and chin with her arousal. It's wet and messy and utterly debasing.

I feel claimed. Owned. Put in my rightful place as Slava's submissive plaything. Her personal pussy-licking sister pet. The thought makes me moan against her flesh.

"Fuck yes," Slava says. "I knew you'd be good at this. My own little incest slave, so eager to please. It’s all you’re good for, isn’t it? I surpass you at literally everything. This is the only positive contribution you can bring to my life, other than chores, isn’t it? Maid. Sister-slut. Dumb, stupid whore."

Her words send a bolt of searing heat straight to my core. I can feel my own arousal soaking through my panties, untouched and aching. But pleasing Slava is all that matters now. Making her come. Proving my worth as her lesser sister.

I’m pouring all of my submission and desperation into the act, determined to give her the best orgasm of her life.

Slava begins to tremble above me, her thighs quaking around my ears. Her moans turn high-pitched and needy. I can tell she's getting close.

"From now on, your orgasms belong to me. You don't get to touch yourself or get off without my explicit permission. Ditto for romantic partners, not that I’d ever give you permission to get a boyfriend or a girlfriend, I don’t like to share. I’m taking your cummies away… for no better reason than I can, and it amuses me, and you can’t stop it… understood, whore?"

I moan in acknowledgment beneath her pussy, which only makes her gasp and grind down harder. I can barely think straight, my mind is so foggy with arousal and the intoxicating scent and taste of my sister's cunt.

Yes, yes, yes… I’ll give up anything… sacrifice anything on the altar of her power…

"I'm close," she says. "Don't you dare stop. Make me come, doggy. Fucking dyke. I… I… Ohhhh…"

Slava's thighs tremble around my ears, her movements growing erratic.

And then she's coming, gushing her cunt juices all over my face with a hoarse cry of ecstasy. I lap them up greedily, prolonging her pleasure, determined to milk every last drop from her spasming cunt.

"Fuck! Yes! Take it all, you stupid sisterwhore!"

Slava rides out the aftershocks against my mouth. It seems to last forever, wave after wave of pleasure wracking her body as I worship her through it.

Finally, blessedly, she stills and lifts herself off me. I gasp for air, my cheeks and chin wet with her juices. I must look a debauched mess. Slava certainly seems to think so, if the wicked gleam in her eye is any indication.

"Look at you," she says, slowly regaining her breath. "My perfect little cunt-licking incest slave. I think you've found your true calling, sis."

I really have, haven’t I? I’ve just made my sister come. My younger sister. By eating her pussy.

Slava steps back and retrieves her discarded clothes, sliding her panties and jeans back on with a self-satisfied air. She runs a hand through her hair, which is slightly disheveled from her exertions, and smirks down at me, sprawled on the floor, cheeks flushed and hair mussed. Marked by her.

Claimed.

"On your knees."

I scramble to obey, rising up onto my knees before her, hands clasped submissively in my lap. My head bows automatically. I can't bring myself to meet her eyes, too overwhelmed by what we've just done.

Slava steps closer, her hand coming to rest on the top of my head. She strokes my hair almost tenderly, like one would pet a favored dog. The comparison makes me shiver. I’m her puppy. She’s just finished breaking me in. I crave my master’s approval more than I crave my own orgasms.

"You're mine now," she says softly. "Completely and utterly. My servant. My slave. My personal pussy-licker. My sister fucktoy. I own you, body and soul. Say it."

My throat feels tight, my voice emerging as a hoarse whisper. "I'm yours. Your servant. Your slave. Your… personal pussy-licker and sister fucktoy. You own me, body and soul… Mistress."

Slava’s hand continues to stroke my hair, and for a moment I think she might say something. But she’s silent, and her silence is more powerful than any words could be. It’s the quiet of a monarch surveying her kingdom, a calm assurance that everything is as it should be.

As we stay there, me kneeling and her standing, listening to nothing but the sound of each other’s breathing, I don’t know what idea terrifies and excites me the most. The idea that this is the final line, that we’ve crossed it and there’s no going back to normality, ever again.

Or the idea that maybe, just maybe, my sister-mistress will find wholly new lines for us both to cross…

THE END