I call myself ‘ Alyson Janelle’.As a young gurl, I remember climbing out of the window of the house we lived in. I wore a bras and panties under a...silk top and soft little skirt. It was always late at night, and it did not matter if it was hot and windy or warm and rainy. I just loved the feeling of being myself as I walked up and down the neighbourhood streets and alleys. The wind would blow my little skirt up over my hips or the rain would make my blouse stick to my body and I would look. It’s too t-tight . . . Mr. Quentin . . .”But already another note had been made in the black book.“Well, you’ll have to take it off then, won’t you?”“Y-Yes M-Mr. Q-Quentin,” nodded Julia wretchedly.Her fingers went to a catch at one side, a zip hissed, the black skirt slid down and fell in a heap at Julia’s feet. She really did look most fetchingly feminine in that suspender belt and stockings with the tiny little panties moulding her.“Oh yes isn’t that nice?” sighed Quentin. “Eh, Havers?”“Yes,. More

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