Chapter Six: A New Conqueror
Cathy
My phone buzzed in the darkness.
Groaning in my sleep, I rolled on my back and fumbled to turn off the alarm clock. My fingers, still unresponsive from sleep, slipped over the screen a few times before I could finally muster the dexterity to make the phone shut up.
It was a Monday morning. Another day in my new life.
Moments later, with typical punctuality, a weight slammed against my chest, driving the breath out of me. By pure instinct, I struggled and thrashed about -- but then I realised who it was, and I stilled myself.
"Morning, little sis," Cindy said in a sultry voice, shuffling towards my face, her knees firmly planted at either side of my chest, pinning my arms down into the soft mattress.
I looked up at her, her hair still ruffled from sleep, hanging down loosely to hide her face from me. But her smirk still glimmered in the darkness.
An ordinary beginning to an ordinary week.
"Good morning, Miss Cooper," I said, well-conscious of my new role in the household. Burns had given this job to me, and I wouldn't disappoint him. I was in equal parts proud and horrified that my job-reflexes now reacted naturally to my own sister raping me in my own bed, seconds after waking up.
Burns truly was turning me into a model employee.
Besides, I considered as Cindy slithered upwards and pulled my face deep into the embrace of her thighs, it wasn't all him. Cindy was so bossy with me these days, so expectant that I would drop everything I was doing to wait upon her on hand and foot. It felt so wrong to consider, but it was so... natural.
Serving my younger sister. Pressing my face against her crotch, letting her hump my nose, feeling her shudder above me as I put my tongue to good use for her. She really was stronger, smarter, prettier.
She really was the bigger sister.
"I like that you're compliant," she said, her hand running affectionately through my hair. "You used to be such an uppity bitch."
I whimpered submissively into her cunt as she gyrated above my face.
"Burns was right," she said, her eyes glimmering in the morning penumbra. "We needed to break you. You're so much nicer now." The words spurred me on in my service, and Cindy's words gave way to moans as her climax approached.
Her left hand clutched my hair so tight that it hurt, but I knew better than to protest. Her right hand slammed down on my forehead, pinning me. She repositioned herself until my nose was tucked beneath her folds, and started riding me wildly. Using my face as masturbatory aid. Getting herself off on me like I was a living dildo.
I couldn't breathe in this state, and I began to moan and buck and thrash weakly underneath, but she was so strong, so powerful... she kept me absolutely still, my vision completely blocked, her thighs pressed hard against my ears, as she mastered me.
Eventually, Cindy let out a long, guttural moan, arching her back above me. That caused her to lift slightly, and at the expense of being coated in her juices, I could breathe again.
I lapped at her obediently, making sure to clean every drop, while she rocked back on her heels, contemplating the day ahead.
It was fair to say our lives had changed.
Cindy got up and left my room without a word, and I went to the bathroom to wash my face. I knew she would soon need it clean and presentable again, as part of our breakfast ritual. Eating Cindy out was only the beginning of our morning routine together, as we readied ourselves for another perfectly normal day at Crawford High.
I assembled Cindy's breakfast on the table, then knelt underneath it as she entered the kitchen.
"Breakfast is served, Miss Cooper," I whispered, to which she only responded with a grunt of approval, sitting in the chair right before me. She'd put on a pair of dark jeans, which greatly complimented the curves of her legs -- a disturbing thought, but I was spending so much time between and beneath them that it was hard to stop my mind from wandering.
Cutlery clanging above me, Cindy began to eat -- but first, she luxuriantly placed her feet over my head. I demurely massaged her soles with my lips and tongue, letting her rub the night foot sweat onto my slutty face -- the right dues I should pay to my superior sister.
All the time, I thought about Burns, and the stone.
My stubborn pride, my lack of preparation for my job, my insecurities, had all been chinks in the armor for him to exploit. Ever since first embarrassing me with the stone, he'd simply pulled and pulled until my bitchy façade was gone, and all that was left was the whimpering girl underneath, another silly young woman out of her depth in a cutthroat world.
That misstep had reduced me to this. Working in my own home, and not as a teacher, but as a footstool to my own sister.
Cindy seemed to love this part. Her feet explored every nook and cranny of my face, squashing my cheeks, toying with my lips, occasionally even tugging at my hears in play. But there was nothing playful about the way she eventually slipped her big toe into my mouth, while the other foot hooked behind my neck to regulate my pace.
"Suck," she said simply, in-between bites of her toast. "You need practice for Mr Burns later."
"Mpphhh," I said, not in protest but in acknowledgement, as I swirled my tongue around her toe. She was right. I did need practice. Burns kept reminding me that my blowjobs were worse than what he got from whores in Central America. The thought that he might further demote, or even fire me over inadequate oral satisfaction made me bob my head up and down Cindy's toe even harder.
When it withdrew, I found myself pathetically reaching forward for it, like an eager slut in need of a pacifier. Cindy stopped me with a foot against my forehead, laughing.
"Come with me, little sis. I need to paint my nails."
I followed her on all fours like an eager puppy. My job was easy -- I knelt before her and stayed absolutely still, as she again used my face like a footstool. She never used to paint her nails, but now Nick required it, and she obeyed.
I marvelled at the way the chain of command was devouring every aspect of our lives. To follow Nick's order, Cindy was turning me into a piece of human furniture. I couldn't see her, not with her feet covering the entirety of my face, but I knew her face would be frowning in concentration, to make sure she got the nail job absolutely right. Not a second thought given to the fact that her older sister was supporting her soles with her own face.
Our morning routines done, Cindy and I readied to leave the house -- her dressed in a vaguely goth style that Nick seemed to find appealing, with a form-fitting black t-shirt and dark jeans, and me in Burns' mandated secretary outfit -- heels, nylons, short frilly skirt, and a blouse that hugged my breasts enticingly.
Once again, I considered that Cindy's own downfall had been a lot gentler than mine. The embarassment drew color to my cheeks. I was weak. I deserved to be subjugated.
We got into my red BMW together... except I was in the passenger seat now. Glumly, I wondered how long it would be before Cindy simply seized the car for herself. But I let go of the thought with a sigh. There was no place for personal property in my life anymore.
After all...
Objects can't own anything.
***
Cindy
The favorite part of my day was over.
With Cathy, at home, I felt like a fucking queen. I made her bow down to me, eat me out, worship my feet with a snap of fingers. All chores had been delegated to her. I owned her car, her purse, her will. It was great. It allowed me to feel like the old me, the person I once wanted to be, stepping over obstacles on my way to the top.
Even then, when I had ambitions in life and a desire to go places, I didn't realize power could feel this sweet. Feeling a girl, an older girl, my own sister, bucking and thrashing underneath me, and then stopping as I subdued her, was the ultimate thrill. A rush of adrenaline that made all my limbs quiver and tremble.
It was the power of the predator, stifling the prey's efforts to escape. I realized that even if Burns and Nick were to let us go now, I would keep my claws sunk into Cathy. She would never be free again, not until I was around to make sure my heel was pressed squarely against her neck.
But now, I was in class. And here, I didn't amount to anything. I was one rung above Cathy, at the bottom of a very long ladder.
Even now that Cathy was no longer a real teacher, I was still prevented from grading her. The students gave her grades based on how well she took cruel dictation, or how deftly she brought them snacks from the vending machines. Class was chaos, with people coming and leaving as they pleased. And yet, even still, Irene's rule remained -- I was not to vote. It was a burning humiliation. And it wasn't the only one.
I sat alone.
What posse I once had was completely gone now, melted like summer snow. I could see laughter and mockery in my classmates' eyes as I acted like Nick's girlfriend in public, simping hard for him and hanging by his every words like they were God's own wisdom.
At least he wasn't in class now, I thought, twirling my hair with my fingers in stress. Every time he was around, he made sure to turn me into everyone's laughing stock. They didn't know I was a lesbian, of course, but they knew I hated him. And yet here I was now, tittering around him like a silly girl with a crush on the ripped, powerful football player with the big shoulders and the square chin.
