I had met this man through a dating site. We exchanged an email or two, then he arranged to meet me at a sex shop on Rue de la Gaîté, promising me "a generous reward." He gave me his instructions: dress "very slutty," and that was all. So I prepared myself carefully. After getting out of a bubble bath, I undressed and laced up a glossy, glossy black faux-leather corset, tightening the laces so much that I felt my waist expand and my breath catch. I then squatted down to put on long black nylon fishnet stockings, which I fastened to the six metal garters of the corset. I chose the ankle boots I wanted to wear: black patent leather with laces and a 15cm stiletto heel, adorned around the ankle with a small band of black fur. A simple black nylon thong barely concealed my shaved penis. A short dress—completely transparent!—of black lace completed my outfit. I then tied a light silk veil with a leopard print around my neck, and carefully applied my makeup, emphasizing my eyes with broad shades of black, which gave my gaze a rather unsettling depth. I pulled my hair back into a severe bun, and after applying a very dark lipstick, I chose heavy silver earrings. Finally, I selected my three-quarter length leopard-print fur jacket, which barely reached the top of the short dress I had chosen! When I entered the sex shop, I recognized him immediately from the photo he had sent me: a tall man with an austere and stern expression, around sixty years old, balding, with mesmerizing steely blue eyes, dressed strictly in a heavy black overcoat with a fur collar. My outfit must have fascinated him because he didn't take his eyes off me, then he invited me to go out into the street to his car. That's where he explained his plan for the evening. He wanted to fulfill a long-held desire: t ...

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