Manipulative Sister

The next day I sat down at the breakfast table with Chloe and our parents. My mind had cleared after cumming the night before, and I finally realized what it was that I really did.

It was one thing, I told myself, for me to rub my sister's feet, to get a hard on from it, even to enjoy it. But it was another to be actively jerking off while looking at her. I decided I'd push the memory out of my head. I'd pretend it never happened. If I acted like it never happened, Chloe would too, and we could just forget about it.

But Chloe, apparently, didn't want to act like it never happened. She didn't want to forget about it. Instead, apparently, she was going on an all out attack to humiliate me.

I reached for the cereal and poured myself a small bowl, still tired from staying up late the night before, thinking about and reliving what had happened. I set the box down, and went to take a bite—

"I'll have some too," Chloe said. She was sitting next to me at the small round breakfast table, still in her pj's, which consisted of the red cotton shorts she used to wear in high school gym class, and a white tank top.

"It's right there," I said, pointing to the cereal box with my spoon.

Chloe laced her fingers together and rested her cheek in the hammock that her hands made. It was an innocent gesture that, in the morning, before her makeup or hairstyling, made her look even younger.

"You do it," she said, bluntly.

I looked up at Chloe from my bowl. She was staring at me, but not innocently. A vague, barely noticeable, arrogant smile was haunting her lips.

"What?" I asked.

"You do it," she again demanded. "Pour my cereal for me. Now."

I looked over at our parents who, fortunately, had not yet picked up on this slightly odd conversation. Our father was mostly hidden behind a newspaper—he alone perhaps the only father left who still kept this morning stereotype alive—and our mother was gazing sleepily at the early sun coming in from the kitchen window.

"What?" I asked again.

Not hesitating now, Chloe leaned back in her chair and hoisted her legs up, resting her feet on my lap.

" . . . What are you doing?" I muttered.

"Those are thin pajama pants you have on," she said. "You better control yourself, or everyone will see you getting hard from my feet." She didn't even try to keep her voice down. I shot another quick glance at our parents, both of whom hadn't bothered to listen and didn't react to what Chloe just said. She then started to rock her ankles, never breaking her stare as the motion of her heals cause them to repeatedly brushed up against my balls.

"Stop it," I muttered.

"Then do what I say," Chloe answered. "You're always going to do what I say from now on."

Out of principal, I didn't want to obey her, to make her think or let her know she had some kind of power over me. But she was right. My cock was already stiffening in my flannel pajama pants, and before I could stop it, I had a fully engorged and throbbing hard on.

"Fine!" I hissed, and dumped some cereal into her bowl. The forcefulness of my action caused some sugary, colorful grains of cereal to spill over the brim of Chloe's bowl, and for our mother to take notice from her sleepy gaze to snap at me: "Careful!"

"Milk," Chloe then said.

I picked up the carton. Of course it was empty.

"Milk," Chloe said again, with a little less patience this time.

"I can't get it now," I leaned in and answered under my breath. I gestured with my head down to my cock, which was still standing on end next to Chloe's naked feet.

"I don't care if they see. Get up, walk over to the fridge, and get me milk."

"Later," I said.

"Now," Chloe answered, loud and with with enough force to shoot me out of my chair before she could do a better job of bringing us attention.

I stood up, and as I feared my hard cock was obvious, shooting straight out as if about to rip out of my pants. Standing, it was also level with Chloe's face, and she immediately started to boisterously giggle from behind her hands. I took a deep breath trying to calm myself, turned and walked to the refrigerator. No one had noticed. Both our mom and dad had looked up at Chloe's giggling, but then retired away to their own conversation.

I turned back with Chloe's milk, opened it, and knowing that she'd demand it anyway, poured some over her cereal before sitting back down. Chloe nodded appreciatively and took one bite before leaving the table.

"Thanks!" she said, "but I'm really not that hungry!" and walked upstairs. I sat there for another twenty minutes with our parents, waiting for my cock to go down so I could safely leave the table.

. . .

Chloe kept this up all week. She wasn't trying to make me her slave—she really didn't have enough chores or responsibilities to make that happen—but was undeniably trying just to humiliate me. Whenever someone was around who I definitely wouldn't want to know about my growing obsession for my sister's feet—my friends, her friends, our parents, a visiting relative—she would tease me in this way.

The next evening, for example, our aunt came to visit after dinner. Chloe kept me chubbed the entire time, my cock snaking down my pant leg, struggling not to bulge out as she had me dance around the house, bringing her anything that she wanted as it came to mind—a refill on her drink, a sweater when she got cold, to fold and put her sweater away when she changed her mind . . . Our aunt started to give me strange looks by the end of the night, but obeying Chloe and keeping busy was the only thing keeping my boner down while Chloe flaunted her naked feet in front of me.

By that Friday, however, I had enough. I was tired, and had been obeying and humiliating myself for her all week. And the worst part was, she hadn't even let me touch her. I had expected, or at least hoped, for a continuation of our routine if I obeyed—of us staying up late, me rubbing her feet as she lay next to me on the sofa. But she hadn't come to me once, no matter how long I stayed up waiting. I was done, then. And by that morning I finally thought I was to the point that I could resist her.

"Hey," Chloe said, meeting me at my bedroom door as I opened it, "I want your money."

I just sighed, shook my head slightly, and went to walk around her.

"No, seriously, how much money do you have," Chloe said, stepping back in front of me.

"I don't know," I answered. "Maybe three hundred dollars. Something like that."

"Okay. Give it to me."

"What?" I exclaimed. "No way." Without a job, that represented all the funds I had to have a fun summer before Chloe and I started our freshmen year of college in the fall. "What do you need that much money for anyway?"

"Oh, I don't need it for anything," Chloe answered. "I just want it. I just want to make you give it to me." And then she started to smile.

"Yeah, well, that's not happening," I said, and again moved to step around her.

"Alright, alright, wait," she said, catching my shoulder. Her voice softened. "I've been mean, I know that." She smiled again, this time sweetly. "I haven't given you any intensive. Well . . . " she said looking down at her feet.

"You'll let me touch them?" I asked, perhaps more eagerly than I wanted.

"Better," she answered. "I'm going to be out today. All day. And well . . . I didn't shower yesterday. And I'm going to be out walking, working up a sweat . . . my feet are probably going to stink."

The desperate, eager look on my face caused her to eject another adorable smile. "And . . .?" I asked.

"And," she answered, "you can have a sock when I get back. You can lock yourself in your room and do what ever you want with it. And whatever you want to yourself."

"So I give you three hundred dollars, and you give me a sock."

"For five minutes," Chloe answered. "I want it back."

I hesitated for as long as I could, thinking. Then went and got Chloe the money.

. . .

I sat around all day, waiting, thinking but also trying not to think about the treat I was about to get when she got home. I couldn't concentrate on anything, on the TV, text conversations with my buddies, anything. I spent most of the afternoon pacing my bedroom.

A little past eight I finally heard the front door open and Chloe announce to our parents that she was home safe. I was already standing in the hall waiting for her.

"Well?" I said. My cock was beginning to stiffen. I felt pathetic, but I didn't care.

Chloe sighed, almost bored, and bent to unlace her shoe.

"Alright, a deal's a deal," she said, popping off her shoe and then pealing off one sock. "But five minutes, remember?"

She handed me the damp, limp garment. It was bright blue and matched the top she was wearing. I immediately turned and closed my bedroom door, the sock already at my nose, inhaling it. With my free hand I undid my belt and let my pants drop. My cock finally exposed, it began to stretched out fully and massively in front of me. I grabbed it and started to beat off vigorously, vaguely aware of my time limit.

She was right, she hadn't showered yesterday and there was a sharp, amazingly strong odor permeating every fiber of the cotton. The smell seemed to flow through me and straight to my cock, as if I could feel it throbbing there as much as I could smell it in my nose.

Chloe knocked on the door. "Hey! Two minutes!" she warned me. The time was going by so quickly.

I kept at it, breathing in deeply, wishing I could lick the fabric too without the unpleasant feeling of dry cotton on my tongue. I was considering it anyway, of at least trying to suck some moisture out, when Chloe knocked again.

"One minute!" she said through the door. "Finish up!"

"I need more time!" I answered back. That wasn't entirely true, though. I could have cum right then. I just wasn't ready to give her sock up yet.

"The deal was five minutes! If you take a second longer, I'll get dad to unscrew the door from the hinges!"

I couldn't believe her! I had done her bidding all week, had given up all the money I had to have a great summer, and she wouldn't even give me a lousy two extra minutes to stroke off.

I got an idea then, something to salvage a little of my dignity. Taking one last inhale of her sweat, I brought Chloe's sock down to my cock and laid it out on my palm. Beating myself a little faster, I felt my orgasm building up, begging to be released. I could hear Chloe banging on the door again, but the sound was washed away as blissful, thick wads of cum erupted from my cock. They landed forcefully, sticking like long white ropes and puddles to the blue fabric. I was almost dizzy, I had cum so hard.

Chloe was still knocking, now demanding I open the door and return her sock, or else. My head now clear, I complied.

I quickly opened the door and was met with my sister standing there, face to face.

"Here you go," I said, and suddenly tossed it to her. I threw the sock too hard and too fast, and as I planned, it sailed right through her unready grasp and splatted in her face.

The soiled blue sock dangled from her nose for only a fraction on a second, enough to swing there once before falling to the ground. To my amazement and pleasure, most of the stickier and thicker parts of my load transferred directly to her face. A massive wad of white goo hung from her nose, swinging there before dripping slightly and connecting to her lips, sealing them like a shot from a glue gun.

I just watched her, watched my sister standing there, her eyes bulged with shock and with my cum plastered to her face. It was my turn, this time, to smile arrogantly.

"Thanks, Chloe. It was worth it," I said before turning away and closing the door on her. I heard her stomp away after standing there another moment. I heard the distinct sound of a towel being pulled off the rack in the bathroom we shared across the hall, and then heard her door slam. I knew I was in trouble. I knew that whatever kind of control she had over me, she was going to be sure to perfect it now, and take advantage it.

But, honestly, I was looking forward to it.