Spinning around in her luxurious leather office chair, the Führer of Germaneigh sighed. She put her heavily-armoured feet up on her desk, shifting many different papers out of the way, in an attempt to regain at least some form of calm. She was beset by nothing but worry after worry, having taken the reins of the country after Adolf Trotler's fall.

Aryanne, his second-cousin, twice-removed, was struggling to clean up every mess the head of the Pferd Reich made over six years of tyrannical rule. Economic devastation, massacre of the gryphons to the west of the country (as well as inside Germaneigh itself), and political isolation, as well as Prance's recent alliance with Equestria, were the biggest issues she had to face.

"Sigh...when will this torment end..." she mumbled to herself. Despite her country's proud heritage and language, their continuous involvement with so many other pony nations and their allies eventually led to most of the Germanes speaking Equish. If only it were less bloody involvement...

Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, after a long day of signing papers, marching along with her troops, and trying to ease tensions within the country, she spoke into her microphone which was sitting on her desk. She needed this badly, and her Reichsmarshall, Anonymous, was the perfect man for the job.

"RM Anon, you are needed in my office. Now. Over," said Aryanne. While she waited, she decided to unlace her combat boots, freeing her tough, yet smooth feet from the confines of their war-torn prisons.

Anonymous knocked on her door, three times, saying her name after each knock. They developed this code-knock, just in case Aryanne had any enemies.

"Come in, Reichsmarshall."

And enter he did. Anon removed his hat, and upon seeing how bare, how...shiny her feet were from the sweat, he grinned, respectfully saluting the curvy soles.

"I take it Mein Führer would like her massage?" Anon guessed. He knew Aryanne so well, he already had her favourite ointment in hand. Aryanne nodded, curling each of her strong, enticing white toes.

Anon knew what to do immediately. He sat down in front of his superior's desk, lathering up his hands with Aryanne's favourite caramel-vanilla scented lotion. Not long after, his thumbs began to sink into the military commander's arches, much to her pleasure.

Aryanne trusted Anon fully with care of her tired feet, because of how much he loved them, how much he truly cared for their wellbeing. She let out a long moan of bliss, her feet throbbing at the sensation of his fingertips drifting upwards towards her upper soles.

With just a few precious minutes to relax, to clear her head, Aryanne's thoughts began to drift towards one of her predecessors, Trotto von Bismarck. In such a dire situation, what would he do? How would he react?

Trotto von Bismarck always had a plan.

Germaneigh had the best military equipment in the world. They were the only nation besides Prance to own any firearms, they had the only tanks on the planet, besides the Hooviet Union to the northeast, and their sciences far exceeded the other species and their countries. The problem was, though, Equestria's rather medieval military had far greater numbers than her own trained military.

That wouldn't be much of a problem, but Equestria excelled in magical arts. They had nearly-divine mages on their side, and they had the most powerful magic in the world: the Elements of Harmony. They weren't afraid to use them, and their powers could obliterate entire armies, entire countries.

There was also the problem of their alliances. The IFA (Interspecies Friendship Alliance) consisted of themselves, the Dragonlands, Gryphonstone, the Changeling Kingdom, Mt. Aris and Seaquestria, and Yakyakistan. Recently, Prance and the Crystal Empire joined the organisation as well.

Such a large coalition of nations would make short work of Germaneigh's devastated...well, everything. An attack on any of them meant facing all of them at once.

Right in the middle of her thoughts, and Anonymous slotting his fingers between her toes to squeeze them affectionately, Aryanne heard her telephone ring. HER telephone, not one of her assistants' phones. Cautiously, Anon picked it up for her.

"You've reached Reichsmarshall Anon, how may I help?"

The accent indicated this person was of Nechoslovak origin, where the tallest people in the world lived. They had an unusual affinity for giraffes...but obsessing over horses wasn't exactly normal, either.

"My name is Antall Josef Novotny, and I am lead Nech man. I would like to speak with Aryanne, privately," the voice said.

Anon held the mouthpiece of the phone tightly, and whispered to his glorious Führer, "Aryanne, he claims to lead another country...his name is 'Antall'? Should i let him talk to you?"

Aryanne nodded, "Even if it is a prank of some sort...we can just trace him and kill him," as she grabbed the phone from Anon. "Hello, this is Aryanne?"

Anon continued to tend to his leader's feet. As the two leaders spoke, he decided to have a little fun with Aryanne, as he often did while she was busy. Ever so slowly, he began to trace a single finger around Aryanne's slim, curvy sole, smirking at her.

"...and re-arming the country is...absolutely needed..." Aryanne continued, biting her lower lip, but still not moving her feet from their position on the desk. It was a pride thing, she couldn't BEAR anyone thinking her feet were weak enough to fall to a single finger.

"I know you fear us re-arming and taking control of you...but we have nothing...nnngh...to re-arm with..."

Anon leaned a little closer, grabbing a patch-badge for military uniforms out of a small box on Aryanne's desk. Its shape and design matched her cutie mark on the sides of her thighs, so he decided to use the pointy end of the heart to tickle gently under her left toes. He then let his tongue hang out and pressed it on her right heel.

A shade of red made its way to Aryanne's stoic, beautiful white face. Anon knew Aryanne absolutely loved feeling a tongue slide along the underside of her perfect feet. And it was working, Aryanne was clearly holding back a yelp of pleasure as she listened to the other end of the phone.

"....y-yes, nngh, must prepare a defence against Equestria...aahh...and its five alliances with other species...an alliance would be much more favourable than war..." she stammered out, as her Reichsmarshall slid his tongue between her toes, causing them to involuntarily flex. Her other foot was curled as tight as it could be as well, the pointy end of the patch digging into her sensitive skin.

As Anonymous pulled his face away and raked his fingers down Aryanne's slickened, curvy arches, she finally slammed the phone down, a foal-like scowl apparent on her features.

"NEIN. Anonymous, mein minderwertig, you should know that I do NOT tolerate your obsession with my feet while I am attending to affairs of state!" she shouted, her big toes pinching around Anon's nose. He chuckled and held the backs of her feet, tracing his thumbs along the soles.

"You have two choices. You will be thrown into prison for many years...or..." she began, smearing her sole over his cheek, "you will be forced to worship them. Enthusiastically."

He didn't need a brain to know which option was more appealing. As per the usual, he crawled and sat under the desk of his überlegen, and delicately took her right foot into his hands. Anonymous then began to lay passionate, loving kisses on the tops of Aryanne's sexy lower extremities. Each kiss earned him a moan from the military mare above himself, and on the third kiss, she was fully into it. Her strong fingers, having fired many a rifle, pistol and rocket launcher, dug themselves into her uniform's trousers. It didn't take long for her skilled digits to get her in a haze of pleasure.

The wet spot between her legs grew and grew as Anonymous held each foot tightly, kissing each toe delicately. His fingers ran along the führer's soles, not to tickle her, but to stimulate her enough to sink her into an orgasmic trance.

"Ja, R-reichsmarshall...oooh, ja..." Aryanne stuttered. As she felt her feet become trapped in Anonymous's greedy grip, and her soles rub together sensually on his tongue, an earth-shattering orgasm rocked her stressed out body. Her toes curled up tightly the whole way through, and Anon wrapped his lips around as many digits as he could, snaking his tongue between all the toes he caught.

When the haze of heavenly pleasure finally cleared from her head, Aryanne cleared her throat, and sat back in her chair like what just happened didn't actually occur. Anon grabbed her boots, slipping them back on as a favour to her, and then climbed out from underneath the desk.

"Anonymous. I've just been called to a meeting. Nechoslovakia, the Hooviet Union, and Germaneigh are to have an alliance. Perhaps it's because of our strategic geography, being able to reach four different enemy nations within a few days?"

Anonymous nodded. "Yes, they probably want to set up military bases here. The dragons to the northeast, changelings to the northwest, gryphons to the west, and Prance to the southwest can be reached with any bulk of troops at a moment's notice."

"Precisely. This is why I must ask you to stay here, Reichsmarshall. You will be in charge while I am gone."

Anon hesitantly nodded, asking, "Wait, mein Führer. I know you can defend yourself, but shall I at least deploy a military convoy to escort you?"

"Negative. This needs to be small, unseen. Anon, I will be back within a few days. Hand me my disguise, I will be in Maresaw, Poneland to discuss terms with the two other signatories."

Anonymous sighed, nodding. "As you wish, Aryanne. Glory to the fatherland," he said, giving Aryanne her usual magical skin paste and wig. With those two things on, and without her military uniform, she now looked like a normal citizen.

"Farewell, mein Führer, may you return safely."

Author's Note

Germane Translations:
Wie Sie Befehlen=As you command
Führer=Leader
Pferd=horse
Reich=Nation, realm
Reichsmarshall=second-in-command
Mein=My
Nein=no
Minderwertig=inferior
Überlegen=superior
Ja=yes