Weakness
I had always been aware of my girlfriend’s younger sister’s infatuation with me, but I never took it seriously. When hormones are running wild, it’s pretty common among teenagers to develop those feelings towards older people. I had already been there and thought that, eventually, she would meet a suitable guy of her age and forget all about her silly crush.
A decade separated us. Becca had recently turned eighteen, and I was nearing thirty. She still had her whole life to look forward to while I was stuck in the family business – my parents owned a small supermarket chain – with no prospect of getting away. As pretty as she was, with her long flowing black hair, viridescent eyes, and perky ass, she was never really my type. Her personality was too bubbly and I couldn’t stand her laugh but Pamela loved her more than anything for she was family after all and so I dealt with it, waiting for time to work its magic on her unrequited feelings.
I waited for about a year and the attraction never wore off. In fact, her feelings grew. She became obsessive, chasing me around work or showing up at my doorstep with outrageous proposals of frantic sex as I was ever going to jeopardize my future with her sister just because she had a lovely face and an amazing pair of legs…
It took her a while, but she finally figured out my weakness, the perfect way for her to get what she wanted without giving me a chance to say “no”. She uncovered my secret fetish for black thigh-high boots.
I’m unsure how it all began and I couldn’t care less either but a beautiful pair of boots turns me on more than anything else in the world and changes me into an entirely different person. Do you know those stage hypnosis shows where apparently a person goes under in a breeze and becomes totally susceptible to the hypnotist’s whims? I act like one of those entranced subjects around a pair of black boots, asleep and obedient to the point where I can’t even coordinate my movements and I’m bound to submit to external forces, namely the woman whose boots render me weak and subservient.
The first time it happened, I had just opened the front door to see her standing there in a slutty schoolgirl’s outfit in red and black. She pushed the left boot against my crotch and before I knew it, I was down for the count, begging for a chance to lick the dirt off her soles.
“Not so fast, Tommy boy,” she purred. “Don’t you have something to tell me before I consider giving you such an honor?”
“Forgive me for trying to deny you…” I blurted, fully aware that my admission of guilt was also an extension of my hidden fetish nature. I didn’t want to say these words, yet there was no stopping them. “I’ll never do that again.”
“Damn right, you won’t.” She shoved the six-inch heel inside my half-open mouth, fucking it hard as if it were a leaking cunt. I’ve never felt more of a mindless slut, nor more alive, either.
Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve been given more doses of this effective brainwashing therapy than I can remember. I still love my girlfriend with all my heart, but I’m her sister’s boot bitch now, beyond any possible recovery. Becca has grown incredibly more demanding and wants to tell everyone what she turned me into, starting with Pamela. It’s happening tonight, and I have no idea what the exact repercussions will be, though one thing is certain: things will never be the same.
I dedicate this small account of my experience to my sublime Goddess. May she continue to have whatever she wants, no questions asked, and if Pamela throws a fit, may she be brought to heel, too. That should be fun.
Did you like it? Get the book then.
Amazon – Smashwords – Paperback
[Disclaimer: This post contains affiliate links. As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases.
If you choose to purchase any of the products linked here, I’ll receive a small commission that will revert to funding this site with no additional cost to you.]
Want to read new pieces of flash fiction before everyone else? Become a patron then.
