Even Worse Walking through dark woods last week after dark was, as always, a frightening experience, not knowing what the man I was meeting would really be like. Would he be as ugly as his picture and would he be bringing his two horrible mates to watch my degradation and humiliation. As always I paid careful attention to my appearance, my shoulder length blonde hair loosely permed, slim legs sheathed in sheer black seamed stockings, my small body feeling vulnerable in white satin lacey slip, tight pantie corsolet holding my small sex flat and feminine between my legs, white frilly full briefs and suspenders pressing against my tight back satin knee length skirt. With my tiny balls tucked up back where they had been before my late puberty, my sex mound looked feminine, vulnerable and virginal dressed in white and very much in harm’s way. The sort of men I meet need to see or feel the evidence that I am wearing suspenders, before they get their rough hands up my skirt, insulting me for the way I dress and telling me in angry tones what they think I am asking for. It was cold, so I wore velvet gloves, but I let my long blue velvet coat hang open so that anyone in the picnic area could see what I was offering. I could feel my large nipples pressing against my satin slip, though small, they looked pretty jacket, the white satin and lace not hidden by my tight contrasting matching jacket. I had been very attentive to my make- up and wore big girlie glasses that made me look even more vulnerable as my high patent leather shoes click clacked in small feminine steps, matching handbag swinging from my right shoulder, along an old road only used by dangerous creatures of the night. My sexual excitement has always come from fear, and has been like this since I first sneaked out dressed from my parents mansion when I was young. I am this way, needing domination and humiliation. And so, once again, last week, my tiny sex and balls tingled when the ugly man and his two mates loomed from the bushes, the thick set leader speaking in a phlegmy smokers tones: ‘Well, what we got ‘ere, I can’t wait to get my big cock stuck up that little lot.’