The boy pulled his bloated penis from Adele’s lipsticked lips just as he orgasmed. The eruption of scalding semen spattered across her pretty face, splashing in her eyes, then across her cheeks and ran down her chin. The boy groaned with pleasure and then he laughed.

“Good shot Pete!” the boy holding Adele down on her knees gloated.

“She loves it! Look she’s lapping at it with her tongue,” Brian Stetford laughed.

Adele didn’t like it, she hated it but she was not going to let these bullies think otherwise. She was going to bear whatever they did to her without them ever knowing how degraded, abused and belittled she felt. She was going to give them whatever they wanted. Her revenge would come later. She didn’t know how or when but it would come.

“Was that good my little tranny whore? Did you like sucking my cock?” Peter Grady asked her sarcastically.

Adele nodded but couldn’t meet his gaze.

She was dressed in a leather miniskirt, white satin blouse, sheer taupe pantyhose, matching black satin and lace bra and panties, and cheap black high heels. Her makeup was heavy but expertly applied; she wore a platinum-blonde shoulder-length wig and cheap costume jewellery.

At least that was how she had been dressed when the four boys burst into her dormitory room.

Her blouse was now ripped open, her bra pulled askew, her skirt hiked up and her panties pulled down around her ankles. Fortuitously the boys had left her wig in place to keep the illusion that she was a pretty young woman; but her makeup was ruined and her pantyhose-clad buttocks were soaked with semen. The boys might have called her a tranny, a fag, a sissy whore but they had all pawed at her, wanting to kiss her, she had fellated Danny Benstead who had ejaculated in her mouth and now Peter Grady had just come on her face. Brian Stetford had ejaculated over her buttocks.

Danny Benstead, Brian Stetford, Peter Grady, Mitchell Brooks were eighteen-year-old students in their first semester at college, as was Adrian Edwards. The difference was that Danny, Brian, Peter and Mitchell were jocks and Adrian was a small-framed, effeminate intellectual.

Adrian had made the mistake of using the toilet cubicle next to Mitchell Brooks who had noticed the pretty pink satin panties around Adrian’s ankles when he looked under the divide. Of course Mitchell couldn’t help but tell his three best buddies who began to look closely at Adrian; they were always on the prowl for someone to haze or bully.

They noticed skerricks of black eyeliner and mascara around his eyes and minute crescents of nailpolish in the cuticles of his fingernails where he had obviously not removed his makeup properly. The four bullies were not stupid; they soon surmised that Adrian Edwards was a crossdresser.

Their plan had been to invade Adrian's dorm room, kidnap him, take him into the centre of the city and release him with nothing but the clothes he was wearing. He would have to suffer the indignity of finding his way home dressed enfemme. Of course they would take pictures of him during his ordeal and post them online.

But when they burst into Adrian's room and found the gorgeous, ultra-feminine, sexually attractive young woman named Adele sitting on the bed working with her laptop perched on her knees their plans had changed.

One knowing glance amongst themselves was all it took.

Adele had been dreading the day she would be caught like this. She knew that eventually she would be exposed but she could not suppress the urge to present herself as a woman despite her devotedly religious and conservative parents anger and disappointment, the Christian conversion therapy, and even the beatings that her father gave her whenever he found Adrian dressed as Adele.

Adele saw the glance between the boys and guessed what would happen next. She was not naïve, in fact although she had never had sex with a man she had watched thousands of hours of internet porn and was in fact looking forward to her first sexual experience as Adele. She had frequently fantasised about it and woken up many a morning with her panties soaked in semen induced by her torrid dreams.

But she did not want it to be this way; not with these four overbearing thugs.

But she was a victim of circumstance. She couldn’t call for help, she would die of embarrassment being caught dressed enfemme and the jocks would claim they were only hazing her. She couldn’t fight them either. She would capitulate. She was not going to throw them an enthusiastic romp, far from it, but she was going to be tacitly compliant.

Adele shuddered when Brian Stetford clicked over the lock on her door and dimmed the lights, leaving on the desklamp. The boys wanted to see exactly what they were doing but they did not want to know it was Adrian Edwards under the makeup and inside those clothes.

Mitchell Brooks gently took the laptop from her knees and placed it on the bedside table, his hand lingered on her leg, his fingers stroking her sheer nylons. Adele could see that he was already erect in his jeans.

Danny and Peter were unbuckling their pants and Adele shivered.

“Come,” Mitchell Brooks lifted Adele to her feet, almost tenderly.

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, pressing himself to her, slipping the tip of tongue into her mouth. Adele’s involuntary impulse was to put her arms around him.

She was confused. She should be trying to fight him off, she should be outraged and she was, but she felt so feminine in his arms. The feel of his muscular body, the graze of his stubble, his manly musk juxtaposed to her soft feminine body, her smooth skin, the scent of her perfume; it was just like she had dreamed it would be to be with a man. His full lips pressed on hers; she could taste her lipstick on his lips as he kissed her passionately. She could feel the rise in his groin.

Her trepidation and revulsion were still there; she just supressed her abhorrence and shame. It was a defence mechanism. The Brits had a saying for what she was experiencing: ‘lie back and think of England’. It is an absurd trope but fitted Adele’s frame of mind in the current situation.

“Don’t hog the bitch,” Danny Benstead wrested Adele from Mitchell’s embrace.

Danny was not as tender as Mitchell and she writhed in his arms as he shoved his tongue into her mouth and forced her hand down to his groin.

“Stop fighting! You know what to do,” he forced her to wrap her fingers around his erect penis.

It was the first time Adele had ever had felt anyone’s penis in her hand other than her own. It was thick and veiny and she instinctively began to stroke it.

“Mmm, that’s it. You're doing good. You're being a good little girl, a good little slut,” Danny groaned.

“So what do we call you besides, tranny, whore, sissy?” Peter sniggered.

“Adele,” she whispered and regretted it immediately.

Adele was her chosen name. When and if she ever transitioned, that was going to be her name… forever. And now she had just told these four blockheaded jocks.

“Well Adele you are one pretty whore, now put your other hand to good use,” Peter pressed in and guided her free hand to his rampant penis.

Adele masturbated the two boys while they look turns kissing her; they were rougher than Mitchell had been, more insistent and their kisses held no tenderness, only want and need. They slobbered at her mouth, kissing her and gasping as she wanked them, Adele used their pre-ejaculate to lubricate their shafts. She gently raked her painted fingernails along the turgid flesh and then fluttered her soft fingertips under their glans listening to both boys sigh as she illicited globules of glistening precum which she then smeared along their cocks as she stroked them, quickening the pace.

Brian Stetford moved in behind Adele, sandwiching her between him and the other two boys. He put his arms around her and unbuttoned her blouse despite her protests, which were mostly muffled by Peter and Danny’s kisses. He tugged at her bra and found her meagre breasts but tweaked her nipples anyway.

“She’s got no tits,” Brian snickered.

Adele couldn’t suppress the tingling she felt when Brian stroked her nipples, even though the other boys were kissing her harshly, fighting for her mouth, the kisses were still exhilarating and she was returning the kisses with fervour. When she felt Brain hike up her skirt and put his cock between her thighs and begin to hump her silken-sheathed thighs she could not deny that stroking two hard cocks whilst being dry-humped and being passionately kissed was thrilling and provocative.

Adele was hoping that the boys would be satisfied with a handjob, maybe a dry-hump, and leave her alone.

But Peter and Danny were onto her. They nodded at Brian Stetford who grinned back at them, knowing what they wanted.

Brian pushed down on Adele’s shoulders. At first she was confused but then she realised what he was doing. She was no match for his strength and she was forced to her knees.

Danny went first.

“Don’t you bite me you tranny whore!” Danny waggled his penis in front of her face.

The thing looked brutish; gnarly, with pulsing blue veins.

Adele forced herself not to cry; instead she opened her mouth and let Danny slide his cock into her mouth. When she tried to put her hand on the shaft he slapped it away. Adele closed her eyes and her mouth and began to suck on the proffered appendage.

“Open your eyes and look up at me slut!” Danny demanded and Adele complied.

Her pretty face framed by her blonde hair looking up at Danny with those heavily mascaraed deep-blue eyes probably saved her from an extended juncture as a novice fellatrix.

“God she’s fucking gorgeous,” Danny sighed feeling his orgasm approach as Adele clumsily sucked on his penis.

Danny put a hand on both sides of Adele’s head and fucked her mouth, moaning and uttering obscenities as his climax built. She clamped her lips around his shaft and slavered at his cock as she struggled to breathe. She was almost grateful when he ejaculated; she had no choice but swallow what he spewed into her mouth. Danny’s knees buckled and he fell away from her and Adele was grateful that she could breathe freely again.

Her respite didn’t last long. The other three boys were extremely aroused watching the pretty young transvestite fellate their friend and were anxious to take their turns.

Peter Grady took Danny Benstead’s place, waggling his long thin cock in front of her face.

Adele had suffered the ultimate indignity and concluded that giving the remaining boys a quick blowjob would end her ordeal quickly and with undue pain.

She obediently opened her mouth and began to use her tongue to full effect when Peter slid his cock between her lips. She worked her tongue under his glans on his fraenulum knowing that it was the most sensitive spot on the penis and was rewarded when Peter sighed.

She was alarmed when Brian Stetford began pushing on her shoulders. At first she thought that he was encouraging her to suck Peter’s cock harder but then she felt his hands wrap around her waist and pull her back so that she had to put her hands on the floor to steady herself. She was now on her hands and knees with her buttocks raised up and exposed. Peter had dropped down with her so that she could continue to suck his cock while Brian did whatever he was going to do behind her.

Adele was horrified. She felt so vulnerable being on her hands and knees with her buttocks raised invitingly. She almost cried with relief when Brian pressed her thighs together and pressed his cock between them.

He just wanted to continue to dry-hump her legs; she could cope with that. She concentrated on using her mouth on Peter’s cock hoping to invoke his orgasm as quickly as possible but Peter kept making her slow down and at one stage withdrew completely and made Adel suck and lick his scrotum.

She could hear Brian grunting behind her as his cock rubbed on her thighs; she thought it incongruous that in any other circumstances it would feel quite pleasurable.

The small dorm was filled with gasping, grunting and moaning, and ashamedly, some of the lustful sounds came from Adele herself. Peter’s cock was easier for her to manage, being thinner than Danny’s. She thought that she was reasonably competent now and had a novice’s proficiency at cocksucking. She could feel that Danny was enjoying the way she worked his cock in her mouth, she even lifted a hand and stroked his scrotal sac, urging him to climax.

But it was Brian who came first, humping her thighs harder and faster, feeling her gossamer-glad legs tightening on his cock.

“Oh fuck yes!” Brian pulled his cock from between her thighs.

He sprayed scalding ropes of sperm over her buttocks. Adele wriggled her behind, encouraging him to come over her, glad that he had not attempted to penetrate her. She felt the warm viscous fluid spatter on her behind, soak into her pantyhose and dribble down her thighs.

The site of the pretty young woman wagging her ass as his friend sprayed her with his ejaculate and the look of lust in her comely blue eyes looking up at him, tipped him over the edge.

Adele lapped at the issue dousing her face. It was salty, musky and sweet simultaneously. She was very aware that despite her revulsion she was erect inside her pantyhose.

When Peter asked her if it was good and she reluctantly nodded, there was only one thought on her mind.

Three down; one to go.

“My turn,” Mitchell Brooks grinned down at her.

He was naked, having shed his clothes whilst watching his comrades take their pleasure with Adele.

Peter and Brian had retreated, leaving her on her hands and knees. She fully expected another assault on her mouth but Mitchell helped Adele to her feet.

He kissed her, ignoring that her face was covered in semen and her breath likely tasted of cock. He held her tight and pressed his massive organ against her legs. Adele was nearly exhausted but she responded; she would let Mitchell become so excited that that he would come against her.

She wrapped her arms around him and opened her lips and slid her tongue into his mouth. Mitchell was almost gentle, almost loving, just like he had been at first with Adele, and she was relieved. She took his cock in her hand and stroked it, her aim being to get him to ejaculate before he made her fellate him.

Mitchell turned Adele around like she was his dance partner, and keeping her in his embrace, he walked her backwards to her bed. That was ok she thought, she could sit on the edge of the bed and fellate him, then they would be finished with her.

But Mitchell had other plans.

Adele was not too concerned at first when Mitchell eased her onto the bed and lifted her legs and positioned her on her back with her head on the pillows. He climbed on top of her and kissed her again, his cock rubbing against hers through her pantyhose. She figured that, like Brian, he was going to hump against her and get off that way.

She was lulled into a false sense of security; the boys were nearly finished with her and would leave when Mitchell came.

Mitchell was gentle with her, kissing and caressing her and despite the fact that she felt very vulnerable lying under him, it was almost pleasant. His huge cock rubbed against her own not inconsiderable member and she felt herself leaking again. She wrapped her legs around him, encouraging him, wanting him to spend himself against her body and leave.

Adele froze.

She felt his hand wander down between her legs and he enmeshed his fingers in the gusset of her pantyhose. The noise he made when he ripped out the crotch filled the room. It was like time stood still.

“No,” Adele whispered.

“Yes,” Mitchell gasped into her mouth, kissing her hard, his penis probing at her unprotected buttocks.

“Gimme that,” he nodded to the moisturiser that Adele kept amongst her makeup, accessories and other clutter scattered on her desk.

Peter knew exactly what Mitchell wanted and handed him the tube of makeup removal cream.

“Please don’t. Not like this,” Adele pleaded.

Mitchell gazed down at the beautiful woman lying beneath him; her clothes in disarray, his cock nestled between her soft buttocks.

“Relax. Enjoy it,” he smiled down at her.

Mitchell squeezed a gobbet of the white, viscous cream onto his hand and lubricated himself. Then he took another globule of the moisturiser and applied it to Allele’s sphincter.

“Please don’t.” Adele implored him.

Her legs were now limp and she had let go of him. She was shaking with fear. This wasn’t supposed to happen this way. She was supposed to be deflowered by the man of her dreams; a fictitious man who loved and revered her.

Mitchell thrust forward and entered Adele. She was no neophyte when it came to anal penetration; she owned a half-decent collection of dildos and vibrators.

She felt invaded. She felt defiled; but feeling a man’s hard flesh enter her for the first time also felt wonderful; exhilarating even. His glans pierced her sphincter slowly but unwaveringly until he was buried into her up to the hilt.

“Please stop now,” Adele whispered, but the lust in her eyes could not be disguised.

The girth of Mitchell’s cock stretched her sphincter, evoking little rings of pleasure but most of all his bulbous glans pressed on her prostate and educed a tingling delight over which she had no control.

Adele felt violated and used, but she could not control her conscience or her shame. It felt good. It felt amazing.

Mitchell slowly began to fuck her and Adele’s automated response was to wrap her legs around his body and hug him closely to her.

“Don’t do this,” she whimpered.

But it was too late.

Mitchell began to fuck her with long slow strokes and her body responded despite the fact that her conscience told her it was wrong.

Mitchell kissed and caressed her like she was his lover and her intuitive reaction was to enjoy the exquisite feelings that he wrenched from her body. She rose to meet his thrusts, and groaned with lust when his penis pressed on those special places.

Danny Benstead, Brian Stetford and Peter Grady stood watching, transfixed. It was like watching the intimacy between two lovers.

It didn’t take long. Her tight anus spasmed when Mitchell came and Adele felt the warm presence of his issue fill her. His hard belly pressed against her cock imprisoned in her pantyhose and the combined feelings radiating from her anus and her penis evoked her own orgasm.

She was ashamed but intoxicated by the intense gratification that surged through her body. She clung to Mitchell until they were both spent.

Mitchell Brooks shuddered and moaned as the last of his spend filled the beautiful girl beneath him.

But he quickly realised what he had done and extracted himself from Adele’s embrace.

Adele curled up into a ball, reviled by her responses to the evening’s events.

Mitchell began to dress.

But the other three boys had been incited; they wanted too fuck her too and they told him so.

“No! We’re done here. She’s had enough,” Mitchell’s authority appeared to be absolute.

He looked down at Adele and addressed her coldly.

“You keep your mouth shut and we will too. It’s your word against ours; if you say anything, I have pictures on my camera that clearly show you enjoying it,” he waved his Olympus Stylus 300 at her.

Adele had recalled the boys passing around a small digital camera during the ordeal.

“Just be grateful that it’s over. We won’t be back, and you won’t say anything and neither will we. Besides, who’s going to believe a little closet fairy?” he growled viciously.

“Come on guys; we’re gone,” Mitchell ordered.

The other three boys, men really at their age, were clearly disappointed but they understood the gravity of what had happened and they left the room in single file.

Mitchell paused at the door and looked back at Adele curled up on the bed.

“I know you liked it really,” he winked at her and closed the door.

Adele began to sob. She sobbed with shame and sorrow; but also because she knew that what Mitchell had said was true.

The pictures arrived in her email inbox that very night.

Adele under Mitchell, her legs and wrapped around him, kissing him. Adele masturbating two cocks; more disturbing because if you looked closely you could see that it was Adrian Edwards beneath the makeup and wig. Finally a shot of Adele licking at the semen on her cum-spattered face.

‘Silence is golden’ was the only text that accompanied the images.

But the boys were true to their word and said nothing to anyone; it was a standoff. If she accused them of anything, they had proof that she was implicit in the acts that they had photographed.

The events that occurred in Adele Edwards’ college dormitory room remained a secret to this very day

Fifteen Years Later

The click-clack of Adele’s high heels on the marble floor echoed down the corridor of Grantham, Walker and Tate, one of the most exclusive law practices in the state.

The immature male junior Associates and paralegals in the open-plan office began their regular chant whilst one of them warbled the bassline and another tapped out the beat on his desk.

‘With fingernails that shine like justice’
‘And a voice that is dark as tinted glass’
‘She’s fast, thorough, and sharp as a tack’
‘She’s touring the facilities and picking up slack’

The young men grouped together and crooned the chorus.

‘I want a girl with a short skirt and a long jacket’… ‘da da da’

They had their silly skit down to a fine artform but their charade stopped as soon as Adele rounded the corridor and came into earshot. They went back to their desks under a shower of paperclips, balled-up post-it notes and pencils thrown at them by the female litigators, who thought the men childish.

No one looked up when Adele Edwards came into view and strode towards her office; they made sure they looked busy.

Their wish had been granted, as it always was. Adele was indeed wearing her usual uniform of a short skirt and a long jacket – Armani; killer heels – Louboutin; exclusive hosiery - Wolford. Her lustrous brunette shoulder-length coif looked like she had just left her hairdresser. Her makeup was perfect; her jewellery subdued but still there.

Adele Edwards at thirty four years old was a stunningly beautiful woman. She was also the best and most senior Associate at the law firm.

Adrian Edwards disappeared in his third year of college, replaced by Adele Edwards who went through years of legal, psychological, and philological anguish until she was finally granted legal status as a woman, all the time studying for her law degree and the bar exam. It was fitting that she was finally awarded the status of being legally female on the day she was accepted to the bar.

For Adele, it was particularly difficult because although she had been allowed to legally change her name and change the sex on her driver’s licence, because she did not have proof of ‘irreversible sex change surgery’, the same state legislators that she would eventually work for, challenged her application.

She’d had a little facial feminisation surgery; she didn’t need much, she had breast augmentation of course, a tracheal shave, and had undertaken HRT and voice coaching. Adele was almost indistinguishable from any other woman.

When she won the case to be legally recognised as woman it made the news of course and Adele was offered many placements in small firms promoting transgender activism but that’s not what Adele wanted. She wanted to be part of the criminal justice system and had taken a lowly position in the DA’s office. She suffered prejudice of course; the only reason she had been given the job was because the DA’s office was subject to the State’s anti-discrimination legislation and the Office needed to prove they were not prejudiced. She was their ‘twofer’ because the DA considered that he had employed a transgendered person and a homosexual, which just showed how antiquated and puerile the DA’s office thinking was.

But Adele was highly intelligent, hardworking, and diligent and she also knew how to use her extreme good looks when necessary and she rose steadily through the ranks. By the time she was allowed try cases most people had forgotten that she was transgendered and her opponents just saw a strikingly beautiful woman. She often unnerved her male adversaries and caught them unaware.

Alan Tate came up against Adele in a fraud case which she lost, but only narrowly. Alan was impressed with the young assistant DA, she showed a lot of promise and was destined for a highly successful future in litigation.

He made Adele an offer she couldn’t refuse and she jumped ship from the DA’s office and a paltry salary to the glitz and glamour of a top end of town law firm. She earned her laurels, working her way slowly but steadily through the ranks until she was the most senior Associate and was a shoe-in to be offered a partnership.

Adele’s office was Swedish minimalist modern, as was her assistant Celia Bettany. Celia was British, very British. She had that upper-class London accent that drove men wild and a sense of class and style that the other girls envied. She preferred black short-skirted suits and ridiculously high heels. She changed the colour of her satin blouse daily depending on her mood, the only splash of colour she wore besides her silver jewellery. She wore her jet-black hair in a short bob with bangs cut straight; even her stockings were black, often fully fashioned. Her skin was pale, accentuated by her dark eye makeup and blood-red lipstick.

Celia was aloof and the support staff, paralegals and even some of the Associates were scared of her, but she was fiercely loyal to Adele Edwards.

A few months after Adele had recruited Celia as a junior Associate to replace her outgoing assistant, the Partners called Adel to a meeting.

“Your junior Associate,” Grahame Grantham began.

“What about her?” Adele crossed her legs and noticed that all the partners gawped, with the exception of Grahame Grantham who was openly gay.

“If she’s not breaking our office dress code she’s skating close to the edge,” Grahame growled.

“Really?” Adele raised her shaped eyebrows.

“She’s like some sort of British Goth,” Grahame continued.

“Follow me gentlemen,” Adele stood up.

Max and Allen could watch Adele get out of a chair all day.

She had an elegance about her as well as sexuality, she moved gracefully. As she arose she showed acres of thigh but never her underwear.

The Board followed Adele down the corridor to the main conference room. Adele stopped at a window and hit a switch which turned the opaque glass into a one-way mirror.

“They’re waiting for me,” Adele tapped a bright-red manicured fingernail against the glass.

Three stuffy suits from a rival law firm were here to settle a law suit. Celia was faffing around them getting them water and coffee, unnecessarily straightening the stationary on the table, reaching up to the top shelf to take down a law manual that was completely immaterial to the case.

The three men were mesmerised, they couldn’t take their eyes off her. They ogled her firm breasts, they followed the back-seam of her black stockings to the gauzy welt at the top as it popped into view. They visibly swallowed when she reached up for the book, displaying not only the alabaster skin at the top of her thigh, but a flash of red satin panty. Not one of them was studying their briefs or their case notes.

“By the time I walk in there to settle, their brains will be oatmeal,” Adele chuckled.

They watched one of the lawyers sitting at the conference table push his erection into a more comfortable position in his pants.

“They’ll be off their game, struggling to concentrate and I’ll take them for a huge settlement,” Adele grinned at the Partners.

“That’s unfair legal practice,” Grahame Grantham huffed.

“That’s just using a home field advantage,” Adele countered, switching off the one-way mirror.

“That’s fucking brilliant,” Max Walker chuckled.

“That’s Adele’s law,” Alan Tate smirked.

The Partners shuffled back to their offices and Adel went in for the kill.

Adele was in her office early on Monday morning sipping coffee, her legs were crossed and she was dangling a heel. She smiled when she noticed the firm's mailboy pass her office at least half a dozen times. She was sitting sideways at her desk and he would have full view of her legs through the open door.

Celia Bettany had laid out the major national and local newspapers on Adele's desk. Adele had finished the nationals and was reading the law report in the local rag when she suddenly stiffened. She put down her coffee and got up and closed the door to her office and returned to her desk and laid out the paper and studied the article buried at the bottom of the page.

‘Local Businessmen Cleared of Sexual Assault Charges’

Four prominent local businessmen were cleared of sexual assault charges yesterday in the Supreme Court. Daniel Benstead, Brian Stetford, Peter Grady and Mitchell Brooks who are all Executives for a company that has several lucrative Defense contracts were found not guilty of sexually assaulting a woman who cannot be named for legal purposes. The men, whose identities were supressed under a court order until yesterday, said to this reporter that justice had been done.

“All I have to say is that it was proved that the woman was a willing participant; there’s too much of this ‘Me Too’ (expletive) going on at the moment. Prominent men are now targets for vexatious litigation. We are considering a countersuit,” Brian Stetford said from the courthouse steps.

Adele began to shake. She had never forgotten her own ordeal at the hands of these men. Even though she seldom thought about the incident these days, when her mind wasn’t racing with work she occasionally recalled what had happened to her.

Sexual assault affects all women differently and Adele was no different. Immediately after the incident she was scared that the four men would out her for being a closet transvestite, or worse, start showing the pictures they taken that night around the campus.

When that didn’t happen something strange and illogical did. She was still gender dysphoric, there was no changing that, but she suddenly became dangerously promiscuous.

Adele went to gay and transgender friendly bars dressed provocatively and flaunted herself, going back to seedy hotels with faceless men. The more depraved the sex the more she liked it. Being powerless and vulnerable while the men used her turned her on incredibly and it became a compulsion.

By the time she had come-out publicly as a trans-woman and started going through the rigours of sex reassignment Adele's sexual appetite was almost insatiable. She told her phycologist what had happened to her, how it made her feel and how she had developed an almost nymphomanic need for sex. The phycologist, a very understanding woman, made Adele think of the consequences. She was trying to legally change her gender whilst at the same time studying for a law degree. If her promiscuity was made public her chances of achieving either of these objectives would be gravely in doubt.

She sent Adele to a psychiatrist who helped Adele work through her issues and Adele was eventually able to control her sexual compunction. But sometimes she still dreamt about what those boys had done to her and although she felt ashamed, she often awoke having had a nocturnal emission.

Now; fifteen years later, it would appear that the same four men were going to get away with it again. How many other women had had to bear the same depravity as Adele had at their hands?

She smashed her fist on the table. No more! They were going to pay; if not for their crimes against her, than the crimes against this young woman.

She pressed the call button on her intercom.

“Celia. Get in here!” she barked.

To be continued.