The Cure - NEW! - Intro

So, yeah, as a matter of fact it happens my face belongs to my sister’s feet. It’s not like I had any weight in this decision. It all happened very casually one day when I was 10 years old playing with my toy cars in the living room and my older sister Amanda just walked next to me and tried to reach for a book on the last shelf of the book shelf.

“Gah, can’t reach it. Sam, move over her please.” She said. I was laying on my belly playing with my cars and, at first I looked at up at her and I wasn’t interested in helping her whatsoever. She had very short shorts, a t-shirt and her long legs were bare, just as her feet were. “Come on Sam, just help me will you?” she asked. I crawled in front of the book shelf, still on my belly, and she stepped on my lower back to get the extra inches she needed to reach her book. I kinda felt crushed by her weight. She wasn’t heavy tho, at 14 years old, she barely was over 100 lbs. But she didn’t get off my body once she got the book, she decided to open it and check something. I think it was a dictionary or something.

“Uh!” I exclaimed.

“Shut up Sam, just don’t move.” She then walked up my upper back and trampled me right there. I was astonished at how the pressure point of her feet were actually feeling good on my upper back. I laid down my head on its side.

“Just don’t step on my head.” I said. Now, believe me when I say that I have actually no idea why I suggested that, but part of me wanted it to happen. I knew that if I poked my sister about something like that she would just do it. And she did.

“Sorry Sam, but the book I want is over there, I have to step on your head to reach it.” Then her cold bare feet stood on the side of my head, her creamy cold soles on the side of my face, with her heels near my nose. I could get a faint smell from her feet and I loved it. Little did I know that this was the first real significant physical contact I had with a woman other than my mother, and that it would change my life forever.

She stayed like that on my head, with all her weight, for a few minutes. I loved every minute, even if it hurt like hell.

“Are you okay down there?” she said playfully.

“Yeah…” Was the only thing I could say. She eventually stepped off and stood next to my face. I had her bare feet in my field of view, very close, next to my little cars.

“Stay, I’ll be right back.” She said. She walked away. I turned on my back, for some reasons, I wanted her to step on my again, but…directly on my face. She came back wearing sneakers. She jumped on my belly and replaced a book on the top shelf. She playfully bounced up and down and walked up on my chest. “Too bad you turned on your back, I’ll have to step on your face.” Those words were magic to my ears. However, when I saw the dirty sole of her white sneaker I immediately knew that I would regret wishing for this to happen. She actually placed a boto on my forehead and the other on my mouth and stood full weight on my face while looking for books up in the shelf. I had the strange feeling she was enjoying this too, and despite the ultimate pain I was under, I loved it. She stepped off my face a few seconds later, only to step back on my chest. When she stepped down, she crushed my little cars under her sneakers and walked away. This is how my fetish life started.

A few weeks later, another event happened. Amanda was watching TV while our parents were outside gardening. I was playing with legos and purposefully tried to play close to her feet. At some point I was laying down on the floor next to her bare feet and she just placed both of them on my face. “I need a foot stool, stop moving.” She said. Her bare creamy soles were cold, and she had both feet firmly planted on my probably hot face. They smelled like feet, but for some reasons, I loved it. She didn’t move, she just watched TV like that, with her feet on my face. Once it was over, maybe half an hour later, she stood up on my face full weight, and walked away.

Time went by, and events like that started to happen more and more often. It became really clear that my face belonged under her feet. Whenever I was close, she would ask for her footstool. Whether she was playing the sims on the computer, or watching TV, or just listening to music in her room, she always asked for my face to be under her feet, no matter what she was wearing. It even happened outside something, in the backyard. She would step on my face with her sneakers. The big problem is that one day, our mother caught us.

At first she didn’t understand, and, for what it’s worth, neither did we. But my mother saw the bulge in my pants when my sister had her feet on my face, and she immediately knew something was…wrong. She asked us to stop doing that.

But we didn’t.

Amanda wanted my face under her feet so much, and I wanted it too so much that we continued to do this in secret. Amanda made me smell her feet in all sorts of ways. After softball, after school, after playing outside, barefeet, with socks, sometimes she would make me smell inside her shoes too. She called me “footslave” and I obeyed. She dominated me and I was rather proud and happy that she did. But… our mom caught us again and this time, she decided it was enough.

“This is a sickness, Samuel. It is not right. This has to stop.” She told me in private, scolding me for enjoying smelling my sister’s feet and being trampled by her. “I’m calling the doctor.” She added.

“Mom, I am not sick!” I tried to argue.

“Yes you are, and there are existing solutions, we’ll find one.” She said, leaving my room.

And the solution wasn’t what I expected.