Of course I felt embarrassed, but I grew to enjoy sexual humiliation many years ago. Under my heavy make up, I was blushing I am sure. My well made up big blue eyes were partly concealed by rose tinted ladies spectacles. ‘Go down the stairs and through the big white door’ he said, looking me up and down and smirking. ‘Are there any other people in there?’ I asked coyly, tilting my blonde curly head down at the grubby floor.’ ‘About ten men in there.’ ‘If I need the toilets, do I use the ladies or gents?’ The rough looking sixty something man laughed, then said: ‘They are unisex, but there are locks on the doors. ‘Right’ I said timidly, enjoying the very feminine sound my high heels made as I tripped down the stairs toward the door. My handbag was clutched firmly against my tummy, my coat also held close around my slender form as I braced myself to enter the cinema. I saw the shapes of men dotted around the little cinema. With my tinted glasses, I took a moment to get used to the dim light. I also wondered where best to sit to get attention from as many men as possible. The blue seats were divided into four sections, allowing space to walk between then as you came through the door and then an aisle to the right of the back section, which was also the way to the toilets. Dim lights revealed some very odd and seedy looking men obviously wanking as they watched some very beautiful women being fingered, breasts mauled and being taken by doggers and filmed. I decided to sit down in the middle of a row of seats near the door because I wanted men to see me as they came in and fantasised that I might get one man either side of me. My expensive handbag was safe for now on my lap. Crimson nail varnish was hidden by me wearing black velvet gloves. I wondered about taking them off, but thought best not in case I was forced to wank some men, they like the smooth feeling of such items over pleasuring hands. Within two minutes a very fat bespectacled man, in his late forties, moved rows to sit next to me, n my left.. I let my coat fall open so that he could see my tight skirt reaching primly just down to my black stocking clad knees, and my Royal Blue Yves St Laurent fitted jacket showing of my neat little upper body. From the corner of my eye, I could see he was looking at my knees. Which were pressed tightly together. In the gloom, it was a moment before I realised he had pulled his shell suit trousers down to his fat ankles. He wore no underpants and was wanking himself while looking at me. Obscene or dirty it might have been, but I find it complimentary to think that a man can wank over the sight of me in my expensive and very ladylike clothes. My perfume was in sharp contrast to the strong stale odour coming from his body. I didn’t want him to notice I was watching him. With my pretty tinted spectacles hiding my well made up eyes. I looked back at the cinema screen and listened to the drone of the northern voice who was talking off camera to the pretty East European girls he had taken to the dogging site, where she was stripped and being felt up before being gang fucked. How I envied her. Then the smell to my left became stronger. A hot hand was pushing over my knees and under my tight black fully lined Peruna skirt. I heard heavy breathing. Glancing at the hem of my skirt, I watched mesmerised as the one and a half inches of lace around the bottom of my black satin full slip came into view. It made me look very pretty, feminine and desirable. I let out an audible gasp, as the man’s other hand came around my narrow and delicate shoulders, pulling me to him. The man snorted heavily. I could smell booze and tobacco. I glanced toward him. With my high cheekbones and good make up, and golden ringlets, I look very haughty as a woman. He looked at my face and my haughtiness seemed to provoke him. I felt his hand push hard between my legs, my skirt going higher and more of my expensive satin slip was now exposed. His hand was brutally parting my slender thighs, over my black silk seamed stocking tops and soon hard against the flat satin and lace covered flat crotch space between my legs. I couldn’t help looking at his fat ugliness and whimpering as he felt me very hard and cruelly there. He gripped so hard, smelt so badly and snorted so horribly, I almost came in my high cut satin and lace French knickers and satin panelled pantie corsolette, there and then. I let the ugly fat man carry on hurting me through my high cut French knickers black satin teddy -t was more like a corsolette. To say hurting is misleading. Between the sharp jabs, as his big hand squeezed my satin covered bald and womanly sex mound, was the most exquisitely painful feeling of feminine vulnerability. I kept reaching little peaks when I thought I would explode. I let him do this for nearly ten minutes, all sorts of images of him using and abusing me. His big bristly face was very close to mine now; taking moments to kiss my perfumed slim neck and well made up cheek. When his hand started pushing inside the lacy leg openings of my high cut black satin French Knickers and the restraint of my tight black teddy, I decided to push him away. I did not want my feminine crotch to look anything but pretty until other men had seen it. I wanted my little prick to stay taped between my slender thighs, and my tiny balls to remain pressed under the skin in front of my pubic bone. I just had to look feminine in front of these very seedy, frustrated and lust filled men. With my balls right behind the tight vee of my knickers, I felt exquisitely vulnerable because I knew how easily they could be hurt. I can also cum when men hurt my crushed tiny sex, even with my little balls in their pockets in front of my pubic bone. Though it hurts, I cum hard and painfully long like that. To be honest I went into that porn cinema to feel vulnerable and feel the excitement of being afraid. I knew the men were in there because of their dirty desires. I expected my demure upper middle class appearance in tight knee length black skirt, fitted Royal Blue Yves St Laurent jacket, stockings and high heels to make me the object of that lust. My shoulder length blonde curls, perfect make up and expensive perfume compounded my desirability. I was told in my earliest years that I should have been a girl. How I had wanted that to be, but I had been too afraid to go through with the sex change. Now my feminine feelings were in flood again. Of course I did not want these filthy beats to fuck me, but as I stood up, smoothed down my black satin full slip and tight skirt, gathered my overcoat around my slender figure, and picked up my handbag, I sensed all eyes were on me. I asked the fat man to excuse me and teetered out into the isle on my high heel shoes. The sound of my sexy heels carried over the drone of the porn film commentator. There was no carpet in the aisle as I took tiny steps, constrained by my tight skirt and the heels, toward the light at the back of the cinema and the toilets beyond. As I passed behind the back row toward the toilet entrance, I saw a little Pakistani man wearing a shabby grey suit, standing by the dimly lit doorway. He was looking me up and down with undisguised lust, making me feel incredibly at his mercy. My satin slip and stockings made a sexy rustling sound against my stockings as I passed him with dainty steps of my black patent leather high heels. My perfume wafting and teasing him all the more. He breathed in heavily as I came very close to him. I guessed my perfume was doing its work. I looked down coyly at the dirty floor as I pushed an equally grubby door open with my velvet gloved small hand, The toilet door closed behind me as I beheld the filthy grey toilet area. To my left was a stairway to goodness knows where an alcove with metal urinals. To my right was a filthy WC. It did not look as if it had a lock, but I did not go inside to find out. I wanted to check my make up and was looking for a mirror, when a minute or so later, the door opened again and in came the little Pakistani man. Our eyes met, though my big blue well made up eyes were partially concealed by rose tinted glasses. His had the look of a ferret and was smiling. I felt my sex tingling. I did not want him or his dirty gnarled little hands anywhere near me or on my fine clothes. ‘I am looking for a mirror’ I told the grubby little man. Smirking and showing very bad teeth, the front ones missing he said gruffly: ‘There no mirror in here.’ As he spoke, he moved close to me, both of his hand moving inside my fitted suit jacket and grabbing my bottom, pulling me close and standing on tip toe to kiss me on my full crimson painted lips. My hands fell limply to my side, barely able to hold my handbag and coat. His breath smelt. I tried to get away from him. I have long been told that I have a very feminine mouth, with perfect and very white teeth. Now this filthy little man was trying to get his tongue in my mouth. He turned me to the side, pushing me up against the wall. His masculine strength was too much for my skinny little arms and I struggled to balance on my very high heels. The little Pakistani moved his right hand to the hem of my skirt, exposing deep lace and black satin of my full slip, pushing it between my slightly parted silk stocking covered and slender thighs. I tried to clamp them modestly together. He withdrew his tongue. I bowed my head in shame, pretty blonde curls I wanted and did not want this man’s hand. The feel of my high cut French knickers excited him to cup my sex, crushing my tiny balls against my pubic bone behind them. I whimpered. His hand cupped my satin covered sex while his other hand fumbled with the big gold buttons on my prim and proper fitted jacket. He had soon exposed the black lace and satin cups of my full-length slip, and the black teddy underneath it. My nipples have stayed large even since giving up the hormones, and I still have pert little milky white breasts. There was pain and excitement between my parted legs, raising me close to orgasm. When he started pulling on my nipples, in a milking motion, was making it hard to hold back. I had a panty pad in my panties, so I could cum and not mess up my panties. Only his turning his palm against the satin vee of my panties and pressing on my balls stopped me. I cried out in pain. He pulled one swollen nipple and then the other, making a painful and erotic circular movement with his palm against my hand. At that moment the toilet door opened and he looked sharply to his right. In that instant I managed to escape from his clutches. Though very aroused- I don’t get hard when I am aroused, it is just an all-encompassing tingling and desire to submit to bullying rough ugly men. Tidying my clothes and blushing under my make up, I brushed past the two shell suited fifty something bald headed men who had just come into the toilet. Not sure what to do next, I sat one seat in on the back row. I knew I needed more attention and figured that a man would sit on either side of me, then really give me more serious and painful manhandling. Looking to my right, I saw that the fat man who had been groping me earlier was now in the back row, sitting right up by the wall. When he saw me take my coat off, laying it on the back of the seat in front, and smooth down my smart, yet prim and proper clothes, I could see he was thinking of moving closer. I sat down primly, keeping my hand bag strap looped around my slender right hand wrist, sitting up right, admiring how feminine my skirt made me look, coming just to above my stocking clad knees. My knees were pressed tightly together, my skirt taut across my thighs. I breathed deeply, held my head slightly bowed, keeping my eyes on my seductive lap. I waited less than a minute before the fat man moved next to me on my left. He still had no trousers on. His big dick was hanging and swinging between his fat thighs and he smelt of sweat, cigarettes and whisky. As a professional person, I could have been distracted by the sadness of his life. But I was on heat and he was the sort of man I wanted to have abuse me. I didn’t feel guilty because I knew he was turned on by my posh clothes and I was giving him the chance to indulge his own fantasies. But I must make it clear, I only wanted to tease and be felt up. I did not want fucking and hated the taste of the disgusting Pakistani’s tongue in my mouth. I checked my lipstick in the dim light, using a compact mirror to retouching my lipstick and powder, while the fat man watched me. The recent memory of the little old Pakistani still in mind. Him touching and penetrating me in that way had excited me and brought me close to orgasm. The fat man started stroking my thighs through my silky black Peruna skirt, halting on the bulge of my suspender buttons, staring intently down at my lower body and wanking his big dick with the other hand. I occasionally glanced up at the porn film. Its narrator spoke in an irritating north eastern accent. He was mocking the girls who were being roughly fingered and fucked by all comers to the dark dogging site- the only illumination being the stark car headlights. Inside those cars were so many men wanking and enjoying what was happening to the girls. Looking at these girls exposed bald vaginas being roughly fingered made me feel so envious. How badly I wanted a man’s hands roughly inside me, dominating and humiliating me. I glanced sideways at the fat man. With the toilet door light behind us, everyone could get a better view of what was happening and men were turning around to look because the man was hurting my sex mound again, getting rougher and rougher and making me moan. The door into the cinema opened and two more men came in; a lot of light temporarily lit the place up. I could see that one was a black man in his forties. He was bald and looked like a gangster in his overcoat. He and his white friend made toward the back of the cinema. The black guy came up to my row, looked down at the fat man groping me. By this time my skirt was pushed up and there were lashings of black satin and lace, from my ruckled up slip, on display. My slip, like my skirt was pushed above the shining black satin welt of my stocking tops. Pretty suspender ribbons and my milky white flesh going up to my French knickers was also much on show. My sex mound was flat and convincing. The black man stared hungrily at me, before squeezing past the fat man and me to sit on my other side. His friend sat in front of me, turning round to look at my exposed vulnerable body and pretty undies. I felt that my heart would burst out of my little chest when a black hand started undoing my jacket buttons- I had only just done them back up. I just looked shyly down at my very feminine body, watching the fat man and seeing the flat satin covered space between my legs opened up, the fat man’s hand gripping it hard, while the black man got his hand inside the top of my slip and teddy. ‘Do you mind if I join in?’ he asked, his big black hand leaving my breast en route to my panties. ‘No’ I said in a soft girlie voice, wincing as his big hand opened my legs wider, the fat man making room and taking his turn to maul my little breasts. I made sounds I had never made before, soft pre orgasmic sounds as the black man’s thick strong fingers pushed under my crotch, touching my bottom slit through the taut satin. The fat man was watching the black man and clearly excited. His hand tightened on my other breast that he was gripping. I cried out so loudly that other men moved closer to watch my humiliation. The fat man pulled back his hand and hit both of my breasts while the black man worked his hand from my slit to my girlie sex mound. The fat man hit me again on my breast and the black man’s pressed down hard against my balls. He seemed to be flattening them against my pubic bone. Then I felt the electricity of an orgasm. Since taking hormones, I have no noticeable erection, just an effusive and powerful series of shock waves that raise me up on a tide of erotic helpless vulnerable pleasure. I was on that tide now. I could see my pretty clothes, all ruckled up, my thighs closing involuntarily on the black man’s hand and bucking a little in my seat. Lots of dirty male eyes were staring at me. I heard the fat man say I was a filthy little slut. The black man cupped and gripped my orgasming sex very hard as I hit the peak of my ultimately humiliating cum. I knew in that long moment of pain and pleasure, I would face the humiliation of coming down and wanting to run away and hide. His grip tightened, the pain overwhelming and making me whimper again, shaking my head and hopelessly trying to get his cruel hand away. For a long five seconds,I closed my well made up big blue eyes, behind my tinted glasses. I could hear and smell so many beastly ugly men all around me, hot breath on both of my ears, almost blowing my heavy gold and silver earrings from my delicate lobes. My orgasm had left me drained and feeling humiliated by this awful and seedy watching crowd. I felt ashamed at being here and wondered why I had come. My black velvet gloved hands needed no obvious command from my higher brain centre to pull my slip and skirt back over my stocking clad thighs. I needed to cover my knickers, suspenders and sex as quickly as possible. But the fat man’s hands were still hurting my breasts and he was pulling me towards his crotch. ‘Go on suck his dick slut’ said the black man. ‘I don’t want to I whimpered. ‘Then you should not have come in here and got us all worked up you stupid little bitch.’ As the fat man pulled my blonde curl covered head towards his crotch, I felt sick at the smell of him. But I am submissive, which is why I was there amongst such hard brutal men.