I have already posted about my first experiences dressed as a girl and going with dominant adult men when I was a late teenager. Those men excited me to very powerful, but utterly humiliating orgasms that left me feeling helpless and so wanting to run away. Knowing that I was going to feel like that made my orgasms all the more powerful, and consequently all the more humiliating. Of course the men could see what they had done to me. This excited them further into more groping, spanking, horrible name calling, pulling my long blonde hair and fucking my hairless body, painted pouting lips, in my bottom and mouth. Every time, afterwards I vowed never to let it happen again. But the need always came back, and the need was always for uglier bigger nastier men. My tiny bald sex always grew to its full two inches and throbbed at the thought of cruel hands crushing it and hurting my little testicles through expensive satin and lace panties. I needed the worst that men could give me. How I wished I could be a proper girl and offer them my bald vagina. Part Two Still my first encounter with a man, when I was all dressed, made up, perfumed and teetering along in high heels late at night, had taught me that my young bald micro penis, with tiny equally bald ball sac- the only body hair I had was on my head, long and blonde- proved very exciting to the man who had found it crushed inside a tight satin panelled pantie girdle, a tight vee displayed between my pretty suspenders, on full view when he pulled up my tight skirt and lace trimmed full slip. I have told that story before in 'My First Face Fuck' so I won't repeat it. Suffice it to say that my lavish and expensive lingerie brought out the beast in him, leading him to the conclusion that he could blackmail and tame me as his whore for whoever he wanted to have me. I was a late teenager and had been secretly dressing since my father had died several years earlier. My mother would have preferred it if I had been a girl. My build was slight and she let me grow my hair long. Looking even younger than I was, I was frequently mistaken for a girl, attracting wolf whistles and lewd comments. For some reason this crude male attention excited me and made me want dress and make up whenever I could. Living with my mother and sister, with her friends visiting, I had access to female clothes, undies and shoes in abundance. I also adored perfume. So the stage had been set and I had my first face fuck. The man hurt me and I hadn't like his slime or the taste of it, but his dominance and cruel words had made me cum inside my satin pantie girdle. He had laughed cruelly, inspecting my spent little sex afterwards and laughing at it. He had told me during our second meeting that no woman would want me and that I was really a girl. I had waited nervously and wanking at the thought of the people he was lining up to so seriously abuse me. After each orgasm, I felt so stupid to want this to happen, and go on happening to me. The thought of a lot of nasty men seeing me after I had cum in front of them seemed so awful. But soon enough the thoughts came back, making me need to wank my two inch thin little erection yet again. He said I would have to wear a pretty dress, satin and lace lingerie, stockings and suspenders, with nice make up and perfume. High heels and hand bag had to be part of my out fit as before. He warned me that he had a lot of people interested in me and that it was going to be very painful and humiliating for me. I was seventeen at the time, and studying A levels at a local college. I told my mother that I was going to spend the week- it was just after Christmas- with a friend from college and that his father was going to pick me up. I packed several sets of expensive satin and lace lingerie, some cast off by my sister, and other stuff I had bought with money from my part time job in a shop, and paper round. I also packed two pretty dresses, a short fur coat, tight black skirt, white satin blouse, two pairs of high heeled shoes, two pairs of black seamed stockings, a black leather handbag, make up and perfume. Young men with long hair were not unusual in the days of my youth, but mine was long blonde and silky, reaching way over my skinny narrow shoulders. I was used to getting toots from male truck and car drivers when they saw me out walking in tight blue jeans and tee shirt. I was wearing jeans, effeminate little top and jumper under my duffel coat. The jeans were cut for females, so with their side zipper and the black satin and lace trimmed pantie corsolette holding my little sex out of sight, I twirled my college scarf around my little girlie neck, picked up my suitcase and said 'bye' to my worried looking mother, stepping out into the cold evening darkness to meet the man who was going to give me what he said would be a very hard time, with a rather nasty group of his male friends. I felt very vulnerable and delightfully feminine. I also felt fear in spite of my bald little sex, crushed flat and invitingly, tingling between my skinny thighs.