Then I felt my dress lifted and there were hands all over me and my dress lifted off. “We won’t hurt you and just have a little fun and off you p...p.” If only that was true I thought. I’d stay out of parks. Just don’t hurt me. And there were hands on my breasts. Mouths kissing my breasts and I smelled tobacco. They weren’t hurting me just abusing me and I was their victim late at night in the park. All I could think was I wanted to go home. To be released and go home and shower. A warm. ..I bet this place was like atiny shoe repair shop or something for decades before all of this....The first thing I noticed was the smell. Leather. The texture of it wasin the air, sweet and dark and warm somehow, and I could see into theback which had what looked like a leather shop back there with anindustrial sewing machine and wow..this is like a leather fetish placefor all the, the leather gear??I noticed the floggers and so much more hanging, tightly packed on racksin the small shop, and. The buttons pop one by one as I make my way down towards the bottom, the black sheer material gliding off my skin onto the floor. Next my pencil skirt. It's tight, so I have to slide it down my legs using both hands. I straighten up and realise the curtains are open. I'm too tired to care. My black stockings feel tight around my thighs, I take them off one by one, relishing the feeling of the cool air on my bare legs. I'm left standing in a cream and black lace bra and panties. They're the ones. I didn't mind doing it to my husband and his drunken friends, as they to me deserved it, after the years of them groping and trying to fuck me when my husband was drunk, or my husband ignoring my needs to go and get drunk with his friends, but my son, he didn't deserve this.As I was moved back over the arm of the sofa, I noticed the black boys move around my son and he looked like he was enjoying himself not being punished, but being used for mutual pleasure, this sent my mind into overdrive,.