Friday, 31 October 2014

Probably went too far

I went for a run last night. Wearing a pair of high gloss leggings with a white t-shirt that came to just a little below the waistband of the leggings. In the UK it gets dark at about 17:00 these days so I enjoy running in areas where I'm more likely to come across people.

I do this in the belief that the darkness does, to some degree, hide the full extent of, for example, the glossiness of the leggings.

Anyway, I was running on the outskirts of a town nearby and was running on the pavement alongside the rig road of that town. I was running with the flow of the traffic, so all cars were coming from behind me.

At one point there was a pedestrian crossing at which some people were crossing which bought all the cars next to me to a halt. I passed the crossing, A few seconds later some cars went past me but then there was a gap. It didn't really register at first but then I realised that there was a car keeping pace with me and effectively holding up the traffic. I looked at the car and the occupants were looking at me. They gradually sped up.

It's the first time that I've had such blatant attention paid to me which makes me think that something must have looked obvious. I took some photos after the run and unless the leggings look a lot more feminine than I believe they do (and let me know if you think they do) then the only explanation is my bra.

Here are the photos taken after the race.

My worry is that under the t-shirt I wore a sports bra. As you can see from the above photos by the end of the run my t-shirt was completely wet from sweat. However, that takes a while to happen and it's a slow process. What I have discovered happens is that the t-shirt starts getting wet but the bra stops sweat getting through for a while with the result that you end up with a dry 'bra' shape. Here's a photo I took on another run a while back which was when I discovered this.

I suspect it's quite possible that I was running alongside a road with many cars on it with quite a visible bra outline. I really need to be a lot more careful I guess.

Friday, 17 October 2014

Friday, 19 September 2014

Story - Lifestyle Sub - part 1

It was what I wanted but also what I feared. Exciting and yet nerve wracking. Until now I'd only been passed by three cars, two approaching from the front and one from behind. I'd ignored the looks of the occupants as they'd passed. But as I rounded the bend I could see in the distance the car park that marked a popular stretch of beach. It would be busy, I would pass people, people who would have a good chance to watch me as I ran past.

I could cross the road and try avoid the parking place by making my way through the field opposite. Doing that would mean that people would still see me but I'd be far enough away that they wouldn't get a close look at me. People getting a close look at me was what I dreaded and yet craved in equal measures. So, it was within my control to avoid the scrutiny that would cause me humiliation and yet, I wouldn't. Humiliating as it may be I'd run past any people who happened to be in the parking lot. I'd run past on their side of the road. They'd get a look at me. I'd be embarrassed. I'd be humiliated. I'd be excited.

I'd also do it because if I didn't, my wife who was parked in one of the cars in that parking lot would find a way to punish me. But it wasn't just the fear of punishment that made me do it, deep down inside, I wanted to. And that was the conflict in my life.

I'd been running for just under eighteen minutes. My wife and her sister had dropped me off three kilometers back up the road. The road followed the coastline. On my right was the sea, on the left was empty fields with the occasional house dotted amongst them. The sun beat down on me as it approached two PM. I had a one liter water bottle from which I'd drunk a little already. I had another seven kilometers to go before my wife and her sister would let me back in the car.

The sun beat down on me. The white t-shirt I wore was already soaked with sweat. As those of you who've seen pictures of wet t-shirt competitions will know, a soaked white t-shirt becomes see through. My white t-shirt was now quite clearly showing the white leotard that I wore underneath. The fact that I'd been in Spain for two weeks already, and so had a dark tan, only helped make the white leotard stick out even more. The bright red rose on the stomach of the leotard was also visible through the t-shirt.

The black, wet look leggings that I wore might have passed as athletic wear to the untrained eye but my wifes sister had made sure that even the untrained eye didn't make that mistake by shortening them and sewing on a two inch band of lace that now ran around my lower calf.

The white t-shirt was short, its hem only just joining the waistband of the leggings. No one would know that though because the leotard was worn over the leggings, and so the waistband of the leggings was hidden from view. Instead, standing out in stark contrast to the black of the leggings, people approaching from behind could quite clearly see how the leotard curved across my bum into a thin strip of white thong that pulled the leggings into my ass crack as it disappeared between my legs. From the front they'd easily notice as the thong came out from between my legs forming a narrow V that opened up as it reached my t-shirt.

All of this would probably have been okay had I been a woman, the problem is that I'm not. I'm a male. Well, as my wife and sister like to remind me, biologically I'm classified as a male, in reality I'm an inbetweener, neither male nor female, or as they often put it, I'm a pathetic sissy.

The car park was getting close now. I knew that somewhere in that car park my wife and her sister were waiting. In fact, there, I could see them and as I saw them I saw that they'd seen me, the car doors opened and both of them got out. They moved to be closer to the edge of the road as I approached. There were approximately five other couples in the car park, at least two groups of three to four girls and a one group of young men.

'Oh my god! Louise, look!'

It was my wifes sister. And she'd said it loud enough that others would hear and wonder what was going on.

Louise looked and started laughing. 'Seriously? Is he wearing womens clothing? Look! There's lace on his leggings!. By now I was level with them. 'Are you a sissy?' she asked as I ran past.

I didn't answer. My face burnt with shame and humiliation. By now everyone in the parking lot was looking my way. Some people even rushed to get a better look. I heard some comments in Spanish but I also heard some in English. Apparently I was wierd and pathetic and yes, they had got a photo of me. I wanted to curl up and disappear. And yet, I had butterflies of excitement in my stomach too.

Louise and I met at a fetish club. For as long as I can remember I have been submissive. I've also had a thing for womens clothing. The first time I ever came was while wearing a pair of my sisters school panties. Over the years I developed a desire for humiliation at the hands of women. The first time we met at the club I'd gone there as a male but quite clearly wearing womens jeans, top and boots.

I'd been sitting at the bar, nursing a beer while trying to pluck up the courage to approach the play area when I'd seen her at a table by herself. She was watching me and as I made eye contact she beckoned me with one finger. I went over to her and as I approached she pushed a chair next to her out of the way while turning her chair sideways so that her legs filled the now vacant space.

'Hi, I'm ...'

'Shhh!' she replied as she pointed to the floor at her feet. 'Sit.'

I did, she smiled.

She slipped her foot out of its shoe allowing the shoe to fall to the ground.

'Massage my foot.'

'Certainly, how ...'

'Shhhh!' and she ignored me, looking over me to watch what was happening in the club.

She broke the silence. 'You don't speak unless I give you permission. I like the pretty clothes you're wearing. They're not mens clothes. Loosen your jeans and lower them around your thighs.'

I obeyed, she watched me, almost studied me, as I did so. My face blushed as my pink lave panties were revealed to her and, I realised, to others who cared to glance our way. She smiled, It was an amused smilem but her entire body language was superior. I was a plaything.

'Sit, carry on massaging my feet.'

I sat, the floor cold through the thin lace panties.

'You're obedient. I like that. I may reward you, although of course massaging my feet is a reward in itself.'

And it was. Being in a fetish club that I was familiar with made all of this seem quite safe. Yes, it was embarrassing sitting at her feet in front of the other patrons, my jeans around my thighs revealing the pink lace panties, and yet I was in heaven. My erection was throbbing, almost painfully. Being as I'm not circumcised I knew that with the way my panties were trapping my erect I could probably make myself cum by rocking slightly side to side, back to front a few times. But I didn't. I wanted this to last. And like all men, once I came, my sensible brain kicked in and I'd be disgusted with myself for doing what I was doing. I'd start to worry that doing stupid things like this had been seen by others who might know me. But the hornier I was, the less control my sensible brain had, and the raunchier I'd behave.

So I sat at her feet, quiet, massaging her wonderfully shaped foot through the smooth, almost slippery, pantiehose that covered it. I looked at her well painted toe nails wearing a lovely feminine pink polish and at some level, I was jealous. Jealous that I would never look as wonderful as she did. Jealous that I could never justify wearing such lovely nail polish in public.

Fiction - A dream too far - part 1

For years I've been a secret crossdresser. I do a lot of running and use that as the opportunity to wear my clothing in public. As I'm into leggings, leotards and all things lycra, running is an ideal way for me to wear womens stuff in public. How horny I am will determine how adventurous I get with what I wear and when I go running. Most of my running is done early in the morning or late at night. The chances of being seen by people are still there but not as great as at lunchtime for example. Obviously the later in the morning that you go running, or earlier in the evening, the more chance you have of being seen.

I love the thought of being seen by women while wearing womens clothing and there are two responses that I crave, the one would be ridicule and then quite the opposite to that would be acceptance and the ability to have a 'girls talk' about clothing. Generally though, the hornier I am the more I crave ridicule.

One Sunday I was horny as hell and decided I'd up the ante. I decided to drive to a car park about ten miles from my house and start and end my run from there. By doing this I could avoid being seen by my neighbors and so be more daring with what I wore. Also, by starting and ending so far from my house the chances of running into someone I knew were significantly reduced.

I put on a padded C cup bra and a pair of high gloss wet look leggings which I covered with a light blue thong leotard. The feel of the leotard pulling between my ass cracks almost made me cum. I covered the lot with a short white t-shirt. The t-shirt would, I knew, show the leotard once I started sweating and it got wet as a result. It was short enough that it came to just below my hips, thereby ensuring that the strap of the thong pulling the leggings into my ass crack was visible, it was also tight enough that my budding breats were visible. With a pounding heart and a huge erection I drove to the parking place.

As I pulled into the lot I saw a van at the far end and thought I could see a car parked on the far side of the van. There were no people around that I could see and so I assumed that it was probably dog walkers. My heart pounded a lttle extra, as it meant that there was a chance that even though it was 06:00 on a Sunday, I would potentially see people.

I took a few photos of myself using my cameras self timer and then locked the car and headed off. I'd planned to run 10 miles which would take me about an hour forty. I had my water bottle with me and was feeling excited to be out in public dressed as I was. Naturally I was also nervous and kept looking behind me as the route I was running was also used by cyclists.

The run went well, I passed three people walking dogs. One of them I approached from the front and the other two I passed from behind. The woman I approached from the front avoided looking at me so I wasn't concerned about her and the two that I passed from behind I didn't see their reaction. Approaching the car I saw that the van and other car were still there. I also couldn't help but notice the muscular guy leaning against my car.

He watched as I approached.

'Cute outfit.' he called as I got near.

I pressed the remote on my key, the car unlocked but he was leaning against the drivers door.

'Do you mind?' I asked, indicating that I wanted to get past him.

'Not at all.' he replied not moving. 'Sweet leotard and I love a man in wet look leggings. Do a twirl for me, let me see you from behind.'

My heart was racing now and I was starting to get scared. The thought of being ridiculed by a female turned me on, but a guy was a whole different story. I started to go round my car intending to get in from the other side and lock him out as soon as I got in. As I started walking round the car he suddenly lurched at me, grabbed my arm tightly and before I could do anything roughly grabbed the keys from my hand. Then he opened my car door, sat in the drivers seat and rummaged around until he found my cell phone. He switched it on and smiled when he saw I had no password.

'Mmmm, look at that, I have all your contacts.' He pressed a few buttons and then took a photo of me. 'Now, let me see you from behind or would you like me to send this photo to all your friends?'

Reluctantly I turned. He laughed. I felt like crying. This had gotten way out of control. I heard my car start. What the fuck!?

He drove my car and parked next to the van. I walked over wondering how I was going to get myself out of this mess. He got out my car, locked it, put the keys in his pocket and opened the door to the van, returning a few seconds later with a camera. The next few minutes were the height of embarrassment as I was forced to pose for all sorts of photos quite clearly showing what I was wearing and keeping my face visible in all of them. My car was visible in many of them as I was made to pose like a 70's car model draped over the bonnet. A few times cars drove past the parking lot, my heart stopped every time but he told me to ignore them. All the while he kept up a running commentary about how pathetic I was.

Finally he stopped taking photos.

'Look, please, I haven't done anything to you. I wasn't hurting anyone by doing what I was doing. Please just give me my phone and keys and let me go.'

'Come here.' he said reaching into his pocket. Thinking that he was reaching for his keys my hopes soared and I walked toward him. As I got close he suddenly slapped me so hard that I fell against the side of the van. As I raised my hand to touch my lip which judging by the taste of blood in my mouth was bleeding, he punched me in the stomach. I fell to the ground retching. As I lay there he pressed one foot against the side of my head and started grinding my head into the gorund.

'Listen to me you crossdressing sissy fuck, I am not the one who told you to go running like a cross dressed fairy, that was you that did that. I've met sick fucks like you before. I bet you get your rocks off hoping that a true female will laugh at you for the way you dressed? You see fuckwit, I do know about 'boys', and I use the word boys lightly, like you. Now, you do as I say and you'll probably even enjoy some of what I get you to do, but if you don't do as I say then I assure you that all your contacts will know about your little perversion. You'll be the laughing stock of the neighbourhood. So, do as I say and all will be okay. Do you understand?'

I didn't say anything. He pushed down on my face pushing it painfully into the grit. 'I said do you understand me faggot? I don't want to have to punch you again but I will.'

'I understand.' I mumbled. He lifted his foot off me and I started getting up.

'Oh no shithead. I didn't give you permission to get up. Stay where you are. Now I've got facebook up here, what's your facebook name?'

I told him.

'Very good. What's your password?'

I hesitated and he lifted a foot bringing it down on my left hand pressing down with his full weight.

I quickly told him my password. I heard some typing and then he grunted.

'Very good sissy. I've changed your status to 'Having a really good run.' Oh and I've also changed your facebook password. So now you really do need to do as I say otherwise all 257 followers of yours will be seeing some interesting pics. Now, when you got here you took some photos, let's take a look at those. You stay there slut.'

As I lay on the floor, my world falling apart I heard a car pulling into the parking lot. From where I lay on the floor looking at the car park from underneath my car I watched as two pairs of feet and a dog got out the car. I desperately prayed that the dog didn't come over, It seemed that at least in some respects my luck was in as the dog and its owners walked off. Then I heard my captor laughing and he came back to stand with his feet by my face.

'You're so typical. All of you sissy types just love taking photos of yourselves, look at all these outfits you've worn. I'll keep this camera. Now listen to me, I really do need to know that you understand. What will I do if you don't do as I say?'

'You'll post those photos on facebook and send some photos to all the contacts on my phone. I'll be ridiculed and laughed at it will be very humiliating for me.'

'Very good sissy, Now, to prove that you really do understand, kiss my crotch.'


Wednesday, 3 September 2014

My session with a mistress

For a few weeks now the need to be punished has been brewing in me. It happens every now and then, I get the need to be smacked while wearing women’s clothing, to be punished.

I searched the web and found a few dominatrixes in towns within decent distance. I phoned one of them who offered a BDSM service and arranged an appointment for later that afternoon. The appointment was in a town about a 45 minute drive from where I work. I arrived at the town an hour early and so decided to go shopping. There is a 99p store in the mall and I bought myself a green and white medium sized dog collar. I wasn't sure if it would fit so as I walked away from the collars I quickly held it up to my neck and wrapped it round. It fitted and no one seemed to notice.

By now I was in full on sissy/humiliation mode and so I decided to buy those dog tags I had always wanted to get but been too scared to buy. I went into a shoe repair, dog tag type shop and asked about their dog tags. The guy was pretty miserable and explained the different tags and pricing. I asked about engraving and he told me the price included a name and a number. I selected two tags, a silver dog bone and a red heart (he didn't have any pink ones). He handed me a small piece of paper and told me to write which tags I wanted and what I wanted printing on each. This was where things got nerve wracking. I wrote 'red heart and under it sissy and silver dog bone and under it panty boy. He looked at the paper for a while and then said 'no numbers’? I replied no. He got the tags and printed them. After all my nerves it wasn't nearly as bad as I had expected.

I drove to where Trisha had told me to go and phoned her, she gave me the final directions. I had a bag containing some leotards and knickers and of course my new collar.

I knocked on the door and Trisha let me in, after an offer of a glass of water and a query as to whether I needed the toilet or not, I was led to the playroom. Once in the room she turned to me.

'Here's how it goes, you'll strip, fold your clothes and pile them over there, be waiting for me in the inspection position, standing with your hands behind your head. I'm going to find some clothing for you to wear now that I know what size you'll take. I stripped as instructed and folded and placed my clothes where I'd been told to. My panties were the last to come off and I folded them and put them on the pile where they could be seen (after all, that's part of the fun, letting her know that I wear panties). The panties are large, school girl type panties but very loose. They look huge.

Then I stood naked, by myself with my hands behind my back and my erection bobbing as I moved. It's an amazing start to a session to go from being clothed and in control, to being naked and following a strangers instructions. I probably waited about 5 minutes before the door opened again and Mistress re-entered the room. She looked at my erection and commented that we'd have to do something about that. She put some clothes on the bed and made me turn round so she could inspect me from behind. I did and shivered as she ran her hands lightly over my back and the crack of my buttocks.

Following orders I turned around and slipped my foot into a stocking that she was holding for me. She slid it up my leg and stood back. 'Hmm, looking pathetic already.'

The second stocking followed accompanied with more comment about how silly I looked. And then she made me put on an elasticated black girdle which was very tight. Finally she slipped a pair of lace panties up my legs and told me to put them on. I adjusted them so that my erection was contained by the lace elastic material.

'Good well at least you've hidden that pathetic thing. How do you think you look?'

'Ridiculous mistress.'

'Yes, you do look ridiculous, you look silly.'

She moved to a table and returned with a blindfold.

'Right, I'm going to add some darkness now.'

She placed the blindfold over my eyes. Then each of my hands was taken and put in a fingerless leather glove which was strapped on. The gloves were connected to each other and then in turn attached to some rope which was then used to pull my arms above my head. I was locked into that position.

Silence. Blindfolded I stood with my arms straight above my head, unable to move much. Finally I heard movement. The slap, slap, slap, she slapped my face and told me that I was hers now.

She moved behind me. She pressed her bod against me. I could feel her breasts pressing against me, she pushed her pelvis against my ass. Her hands reached round and stroked my chest through the material of the women’s underwear I was dressed in. She made me tell her what I wanted from the session. I told her punishment and humiliation. I explained that I could have marks on me after the session. She gave me the safe word. She stood back and made me spread my legs a little before stroking my back and buttocks and then lightly between my legs. She reached round and grabbed my penis and balls squeezing them slightly. She lowered the panties and then slapped my ass, hard a number of times.

I heard her move away and when she returned she attached a leather cock cage around my dick. More footsteps and she was behind me.

'You're pathetic wearing those clothes aren't you?'

'Yes mistress. I know it's pathetic but I can't help myself.'

She paddled me, about 12 stroked, paying attention to both my buttocks. Then she stroked me and pressed her body against me. Then she grabbed the leash attached to my collar and pulled my neck back. With my hands above my head and my neck being pushed back it felt a bit like I was being choked. She whispered in my ear asking how helpless I felt and how in charge she was.

I don't know how long I spent tied like that with her taunting me, spanking and caning me. At one stage she put nipple clamps on my nipples and then appeared to forget about them.

When she released me from that position she led me to bend over a bed and my hands were tied to the other side of it so that I was tied in a bent over position. She asked me about the size butt plugs I was used to and I replied small to medium. She lubed me up and I felt something being pushed into me. There was the brief feeling of something being being pushed in before it was swallowed by my bum. I felt some movement in whatever it was and then I felt myself being lifted by it. She had put a hook in my ass and was pulling me up. Eventually I was left standing painfully on my toes, again I was spanked and taunted.

A dildo was placed in front of me and I started sucking on it.

At one stage during this she pulled the nipple clamps off. The pain was immense. Naturally she pulled one off and then waited a while so that the suspense and anticipation in me could build up before pulling the second off.

When she released me from the hook the relief in my calves was immense. She started fucking me with a dildo or butt plug, I don’t know what and I sucked on the dildo. I was like a slut, spreading my legs to help her penetrate me with whatever it was, my head bobbing up and down on the dildo. At one stage it fell out my mouth and I was alike a starving dog moving my face around to try find it again and get it back into my mouth. I was making noises and comments like a slut.

She untied me and made me lay on the bed, then she jerked me off. I had to ask her permission to cum first. There I was laying on my back, blindfolded, one hand holding the dildo that I was sucking on like it was the tastiest thing I'd ever tasted, and my other hand between my legs and slipping two fingers into my asshole as I moaned and did my oh yes and fuck me’s around the dildo in my mouth.

It was a fantastic session, definitely one of the best I've had. Blindfolding me was a brilliant idea as it removed my natural restraint that I probably would have had could I have seen her. Instead I was able to lose myself in my fantasy. Had the session been recorded I would no doubt be very embarrassed at the way I behaved, but I enjoyed every minute of it.

I did have to use the safe word once after receiving 12 of the best I felt I could not take any more. Mistress backed off and left my ass alone as I requested.

Sunday, 27 July 2014

More play with nettles

A few evenings back I decided to indulge in some more nettle play. In my previous post on the subject I mentioned how I wanted to experiment with a layer of nettle leaves actually between my legs (rather than packed up against my bum cheeks).

This was on one of the days when I was wearing my CB-6000. I wore a pair of plastic panties under my leggings and headed out for my run. At one point I stopped and pulled some leaves off of some nettles, pulled down the leggings and plastic pants and layered the leaves in the crotch. Before I could change my mind I pulled the packed plastic pants up.

The nettles met my flesh and started their work pretty much immediately. Wearing the CB-6000 as I was my ball sac was more stretched out than it is without the restraint and I soon felt the stinging on that tender flesh. I waddled/ran and in the early stages I thought to myself that there was no way I could keep it up for long before having to stop and remove the leaves.

But I persevered and got a masochistic thrill form the pain emanating between my legs. At one point I stopped and pushed the nettles into the crack of my arse ... more delicious pain.

I ran for 8 miles with the string of the nettles focusing my attention each step of the way. Finally, before getting in the car to go home I removed them.

Putting nettles into your knickers is a delicious thrill. The stinging as you run keeps your mind focused on that area of your body. And the nice thing about nettles is that they're a bit like the gift that keeps on giving, even once you've removed them you will tingle for hours afterwards.

Pink bra, white t-shirt and a run on a hot day

The past few days in my area of England have been deliciously hot. My runs, at the risk of giving too much info, have been very sweaty. Believe it or not, sweat can be fun. Wear a light colour t-shirt and as it becomes wet from the sweat it will become transparent.

Yesterday I went running wearing a pair of wet look leggings (what else :-) ). The nice thing about these leggings is that they are one of two pairs that I won that have a high enough waistband that I don't have to use a length of ribbon to tie so that they don't slip down as I run. They are coated with some plastic/latex like layer that gives them their gloss look and when the sun catches them you can feel the heat being drawn in.

I wore a white cotton t-shirt on top.The t-shirt and wet leggings combo did look more high street womens fashion than runner but that excited me more than anything else.

Under the t-shirt I wore my pink bra (no inserts this time :-) ). My thinking was that the t-shirt would hide the bra at the start of my run when there would be plenty of people in the area, and by the time I'd finished my run the t-shirt would be soaked, the bra visible to some degree, but there would be less people around.

And that theory did hold true. By the time I finished the t-shirt was soaked and the bra was visible if you looked. When trying to make clothes stick out from under wet material then pink is not the best colour. A dark colour works really well as does white. Pink is very close to your skin colour and so does not 'jump out'. Wearing a white or dark colour might even be slightly visible from under dry light coloured material which could add to the excitement of starting the run ;-)

The best part of the day though was when, about halfway into the run, I was running along a single track when I approached a mother and her daughter who I guess was about 17 or 18. There was no way we could avoid each other. They were having a pleasant chat as I approached. I moved to the left and they saw me and moved to the right. They looked at me and as I approached they both smiled at me. The smile was amused but friendly. I returned the smile as I greeted them. I knew that the smile was more than just a friendly stranger greeting type thing, it was too 'friendly' for that. I glanced over my shoulder after passing them and the daughter was looking back at me with a large smile on her face. Obviously without speaking to them I will not know for sure, but I'm pretty sure I was 'made'.

And that is the sort of encounter I crave. A friendly encounter where we all know I'm wearing womens clothing but it doesn't really bother anyone, maybe it amuses people, but it's amusement in a non threatening way.