Maggie sat cross legged on her bed, painting her fingernails in silence.
Mulling over the events of the evening prior, she found herself disconcerted.

On the one hand she still had everything that she had ever wanted. A home, a family, a new pet to mould into her true love. Sure, they weren't her real family, the Smiths, but they didn't know that.
At least, she found herself wondering, she assumed they didn't. Maybe they did at first. Maybe, during the first few years they had played happy families, they silently screamed at her behind their smiles. But in the years since any light of resistance in their eyes had perished.
Maggie barely needed to use her 'gift' with her brothers anymore. They simply obeyed. They were her loyal, loving and obedient family.

But on the other hand, it was that obedience that troubled her. Of course they had to be. She was powerful, but not- to the best of her knowledge- immortal. If she left a shred of free will with them, she ran the risk of that spark of resistance remaining, growing even.
They could hurt her, kill her even, in an effort to regain themselves.

Yes, she had moulded these people into her family, but did obedience have a place there?
She always found herself envious whenever she spied a squabbling, arguing family on their outings.

Yes, the twins acted out sometimes, but she had essentially moulded them that way. There was no free will left in the three young men she called her brothers.
Though, their mindsets had... adapted somewhat over the years.

The twins had even become something else. They were not the sweet young boys that Maggie had lured from their parents all those years ago. Those rebellious, fun loving boys had become twisted and degenerate.
And Patrick was essentially dead behind the eyes, he had always been quiet.

It was as though her powers had warped them over prolonged 'exposure', and changed them, whilst keeping them obedient, according to their mental states. If that were so, where would that leave anyone else that she took? And where, she found herself thinking, somewhat disturbed, did that leave her?

She pushed these thoughts from her mind as she unfurled her legs and stretched out, looking down to her one bare and one white socked foot, wriggling her socked toes to better feel Alex's head, his body writhing and struggling against her sole in response.

Grinning to herself as she enjoyed the sensation, she pushed her existential concerns from her mind.
She continued painting her nails carefully, a creamy, pearlesant gloss.
Her grin faded as she heard the uneven footsteps approaching from outside the room, before Mitchell entered unceremoniously.
He kneeled at the foot of the bed, smiling wildly.

"Hey sis."

She winced. His voice had been grating on her recently. She found herself pondering on whether it may be time to replace the twins.

"What do you want?" She snapped.

"I was just, umm... I was just wondering if I could play with him-"

"We have spoken about this, haven't we? He's mine. You and Jacob had your turn, but it's over now. Tell me you understand."

"I understand."

"Tell me you won't ask again."

"I won't ask again."

"Good. If you ask me again, I'll make you do something you won't like. You remember the last time, dont you?"

Mitchell began shaking, as if repressing something horrific. His wild smile, however, did not faulter. He nodded in acknowledgment.

"Good." Her demeanour shifted. "I bet you can't guess where I'm keeping him." She said sweetly.

"In your wardrobe?"

"No, no. He's much too small for that"

"You made him small already?" He laughter shrilly at her wide smiled nod. "Umm, in your drawer? Jewelry box?" She shook her head. "I give up."

She extended her leg and presented the sole of her socked foot to him. He leaned forward to inspect her foot, eventually making out the Alex shaped lump spanning from toe to heel. He laughed excitedly, clapping his hands together like a child.

"I thought you'd like that." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Is my sock dirty, Mitch?"

"Yes, sis." He replied truthfully; the sole of her white sock now totally brown.

"That's no good, is it?"

"No, sis."

She shifted herself down the bed, slightly closer to her brother still perched by the end. She extended her leg and hooked her barefoot behind his neck, propped her prisoner baring socked foot on its heel before his face.

"Lick it clean." She ordered softly.

"My throat was coarse.
I had obeyed my jailor and screamed as her foot had entered my sweat dampened prison to entrap me.
I had screamed as her toes flexed over me as they passed, as if clawing their way up my body.
I had screamed as her sole pressed against my body.
I had screamed as I heard the elasticated ankle of the sock snapped around her ankle, locking me in and I continued scream into the close, musty abyss as her big and second toes clamped around my head.

I couldn't scream anymore. I knew this, my body knew this. But I could stop expelling raspy shouts from my lungs, now barely aubiable.

I had been trapped in between the damp fabric and her hot, moist sole for hours now.

My throat was red raw, and all I could do to relieve it in between my silent, raspy shouts was lap up the sweat from her toes. The saltiness did not aid my dehydration, but the moisture alone was enough.

The taste though. It was vulgar. A vinagery and harsh taste.
But I loved it.
The aftertaste was sweet, intoxicating.
What was I doing?

My mind was flaying itself with the paradox. I was trapped, enprisoned beneath a bratty bitches foot, encases within her soiled sock.
But, the more I cursed her and tried to make sense of my, quite frankly, unbelievable situation, the more I found myself thinking...

I didn't want to be anywhere else.

My screaming voice was now completely silent, my mouth going through the motions like a fish gasping for air, and then I felt it.

The wetness started at the tips of my own feet, slowly moving up my naked back, coating the back of my hair. It was accompanied by a wave of warm, foul smelling air. Comparatively, the foot encompassing the front of my body smelt divine.

As quickly as it had passed, it started again.
A warm, stickly, pulsating thing dragging itself from my heels, along my legs and my quivering back before soaking the back of my head.

After it had ceased once again, her toes clamped around my head, before they began manipulating me.
They were turning me to face this new entity.

What I saw through the cotton loops horrified me.
One of the twins' faces dominated my entire field of vision, his stupid lopsided grin baring its teeth before opening wide and coating me with that same foul air, before my worst fears were answered.

His tongue snaked from his mouth, before reaching down to my own toes, and slowly dragging along the surface of the sock, soaking my legs as it moved up towards my cock. It paused there, gently manipulating my penis through the sock, quickly hardening it before the monstrous, salivating muscle swept across my chest.

It crept upon my chin and lathered my face. As the tip slithered along my forehead, I exhaled with a quiver as this ended.

Then I heard her voice.

"Now put my foot as far into your mouth as you can and suck."

As quickly had she said it, I saw his cavernous maw descend from her toes down and I found my voice again.
I screamed anew as his bottom teeth grazed the from of my body, catching my erection briefly as the did, before gently clamping down part way down her foot- my thighs.

As the roof of his mouth was pressed against the top of her foot, his tounge pressed against nearly the entirely of my body as he began to suck, stiffelling my screams."

Maggie watched with a smile as Mitchell sucked vigorously on most of her already moist foot. She played back on her bed as she closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation.
Her worries from earlier melted away as she flexed her foot, pressing her prisoner harder onto her brothers tongue.

It was then that Patrick strolled in, his hands tight on the upper arms of their guest; a man in a chaefures uniform.
Maggie sat bolt upright.
"Mitch, enough."
Her brother swiftly unsheathed her foot from his mouth, standing as he did. He looked from their guest to Maggie, who nodded curtly to him. He grinned and left the room.
Patrick did not release his grip from the man as he stood him before the end of the bed.

"Well, Mr Driver man, is it done?"

The driver nodded.

"I left it in the back for her ma'am, she hasn't seen it yet but I'm sure in the morning-"

Maggie held up her hand to silence him.

"Yes, yes, well done." She spat, impatiently. Lowering her hand, her tone softened. "How is she?"

The driver was distracted. Mitchell had reentered the room with a large square of thick clear plastic sheeting. Patrick physically lifted the man as Mitchell laid out the sheeting. Patrick plonked the man back to his feet on the plastic as Maggie snapped.

"Answer me."

Fear obvious in his eyes, but his voice calm and proper, he answered.
"She seemed distracted."

Maggie grinned widely. "Thank you. Now... melt."

As quickly as she had uttered the word, and quicker than he could get past the begining of his pained scream, the man fell to the plastic sheeting beneath him in a sudden cascade of creamy, pearlesant liquid, his uniform quickly lost without his body into the cascade.

Patrick smiled silently at the sight as Mitchell burst into hysterical laughter.
Maggie twisted herself round on the bed to lay on her stomach, one bare and one sock enprisoning foot in the air, as she supported her angular chin with her palm, looking at the driver fluid as she glanced at her freshly painted nails.

"Hmm, he's not the right shade." She coo'd. "Pour him down the toilet."

She continued staring at her nails as the duo carefully lifted the sludge covered sheet and slowly removed it from the room.
Alone again, she brought herself back into a seating position and crossed her legs, Indian style.
She slowly peeled off the sodden and soiled sock, revealing her prisoner, who's damp body was delayed in falling from her foot on to the bed.

She watched him silently as he lay there totally still, breathing in the fresh air. Every so often she noticed he would sharply exhale in raspy breaths before inhaling deeply again. She realised why, and smiled to herself.

"You can stop screaming."

His breathing became more relaxed, and she allowed him another minute or two to acclimatize.

"Now, stand up."

Slowly, shakely, he did so. He looked up to her, his eyes bloodshot and his skin irritated by the musky cotton she still held in her hand.

"Alex." She smiled. "Tell me you love me.