My name’s Wayne (fem name Michaela) & I have for many years cross dressed in secret… I get emails like this several times a month; men reaching later life, thinking about thinking about [sic] scratching an itch they’ve endured sometimes for DECADES. It used to be the big FOUR-0 was the time in life when you kinda woke up to reality… a realization (suddenly) you’re half way through and its all downhill from here…OR, as in cases like Michaela, a dawning…. that you’d best do something TODAY your future self will thank you for, before it’s too late 😟 hence his email (see pic).
Wayne’s 61 years old, but in the grand scheme of things, with life expectancies extended significantly compared to what they were even 30 years ago, he’s still got time to sexplore. Better late than never; there are millions more who do NOTHING and end up ‘Coulda-Woulda-Shouda’s’ with regrets. So fairplay to Wayne for reaching out. That’s the biggest step really, starting a conversation, weighing self interest against an element of deceit… and likely something that had tormented him for months if not years.
Are you reading this and recognising YOURSELF here? You’re not alone! A visit to a bisexual male escort or pro dominant in the North East (or anywhere else) isn’t like you’re being unfaithful or having an affair! It’s more about looking after Number One and ‘needs must’. Most partners aren’t into kinky stuff and even if they were in the past that interest often wanes (no pun intended) in later life, menopause and all that. I’ve studied the subject for years, learning a lot from people like Joan Price, the preeminent expert on senior sex, but lets not get too morbid, we’re here to learn more about cross dressing, bondage and electrastim, #StayTuned.
Wayne’s email ticked a lot of boxes. Why? Because as a switch and bisexual male escort for a good chunk of my life, I knew I could DELIVER upon his expectations. IN FULL. You’ll likely have read my post elsewhere about ‘Letting Go’ as well as reviews over the years featuring electrosex. Needless to say I wasted no time in replying. What followed were a fair few messages as together, we fine tuned scenarios.
I could see Wayne aka Michaela was getting increasingly turned on as the BIG DAY approached. The wife had booked a weekend away with friends apparently, affording Wayne the opportunity to play. As far as she knew he’d be hard at it in her absence stripping wallpaper, not stripping clothes. (Always remember guys if you’re gonna fib, it’s best if there’s an element of truth in there somewhere ha!)
So ten o’clock one Sunday in February, Wayne found himself far from home, beating a path to my door… shortish, salt and pepper hair, ‘dad bod’ with a ruddy complexion, dressed in jeans and a black leather bomber jacket. He looked relaxed after a couple of days rest and recuperation from his work. He works shifts, four days on four days off as a night trunk lorry driver. He’d emailed me to say he’d probably like me ‘dressed’ for the duration of the meeting. I could see where he was coming from…lesbian love scenario, so I kinda met him halfway by partially dressing, concealed beneath black leather trousers and matching shirt.
Meets like this take AN AGE to prep for. There’s the equipment to ready, *his* clothes to sort out, in the right sizes, plus it was a three hour meeting, so careful thought had to be given to timing. I started prepping at 7AM, knowing it would take a good hour and a quarter for me to ‘dress’ properly after I’d got the playroom ready 🥵.
I chose black gloss hold ups attached to a suspender belt the same colour, fine mesh thong, short black denim skirt with frayed edges (very tarty) and a white lace top, all concealed beneath my regular dom’s uniform. There was no hint of what was underneath. I’d prepared a dark brunette bobbed wig even to the point of positioning it in such a way it was ready to literally throw on, same with the shoes… 5 inch patent black Oxford heels. Rest assured I can walk in them, easily. During the brief consultation I mentioned to Wayne it was difficult to do a whole dom meeting ‘dressed’ and that was the reason I wasn’t, adding ‘You will not be disappointed though…’
Moments later we were in the dressing room considering options I’d assembled for him. Centre stage was a black PVC dress zipped up the front, PVC deep suspender and a choice of wigs. He picked the dress, and showed me what he’d brought too… new stockings, black leather ankle boots, as well as a pair of flat soled PVC boots, thigh length too [IMPRESSIVE!], and a pair of cutout knickers to match. The latter he gave me to keep; he’d ordered them for himself but they were way too small and he couldn’t be bothered with the hassle of returns. Like many of his kind, he uses those ‘delivery boxes’ you see these days outside most supermarkets. I was parked by one the other day, and was surprised by the numbers of folk using them…. wondering too how many men were picking up ‘stuff’ in secret. Quite handy they are.
But not so fast! There was the chastity aspect to consider, a form of bondage & submission in itself. We’d discussed it briefly in the reception area. Not having experienced it before, he elected to leave it to me to decide how long/what to use etc. I’d already written a game plan… we’d keep him locked for the first ninety minutes, then decide later on when, or even whether to, take it off 🤣🤣.
Beckoning him to follow, I led him to the rest room to fit a CB3000 chastity device. In case you’re not familiar its a Perspex unit from the States, the real deal. They cost a fair bit, but nowadays you can buy almost identical copies for peanuts, churned out by shysters somewhere down in the Home Counties. Unsurprisingly they say on their web site that ‘they don’t ship to the USA’. Wayne’s cock was swelling. I told him I’d beat it if it got any bigger… dousing in cold water helps too. Thankfully (for him) it shrank bank into its foreskin, partially hidden by unruly pubic hairs, several inches long I kid you not…. he had balls though, I’ll give him that, metaphorically & physiologically speaking. Selecting the biggest ring I instructed him on how to fit it, and what we had to do between us to get him fastened in.
As a pro male dominant I’m always learning, pushing boundaries and experimenting. Earlier on, I’d tried fitting an electro conductive loop by threading the cable through and around the holes within the chastity device. I’d never done that before; the idea came to me as I was mulling over the substance of the meet. On odd occasions in the past I’d used pads, but they have a habit of getting screwed up, making fitting the device more difficult. FYI there is a unit on the market which combines electro with the Perspex, it’s made by MyStim and I think its called Public Enemy. I shall have to get one, though my next priority is an electro SPT for the milker. Wayne got to grips with the fitting in no time at all, his *clitoris* held tightly in check, prompting me to ask the question…‘Are you comfortable?’
‘Yes’
‘Are you sure?’ feeling the need to double down since his cock was filling the whole tube, and clearly under pressure.
‘Yep!’
With that, we returned to the dressing area.
I enquired as to the last time he’d cross dressed….
‘A couple of days ago’ he replied.
He’d been getting hornier with each passing day prior to us meeting. I asked him to what extent, and whether he’d made himself up.
‘Just heels, stockings & makeup but I’m crap putting it on’ he replied.
Choosing to skip the lippie and foundation today to save time, he got me to help him into the dress, & to play with his man tits for a few minutes (they were ultra sensitive: always a good sign) before zipping him/her/they (whatever) up. Each stage of the transformation built on the one before… she was looking better all the time; a good number of CD’s are like that… part of it’s due to them relaxing into their ‘altar ago’ (Latin for “other I” by the way) meaning an alternate self, which is believed to be distinct from a person’s normal or true original personality. Finding one’s alter ego will require finding one’s other self, one with a different personality.
She chose heels from my collection in preference to the 5 inch ankle boots she’d brought; Sometimes the heart rules the head with impulse purchases…yes she’d look great and feel super slutty in the boots, but not so good for going up and down stairs, or strutting her stuff. Unthinkingly (IT HAPPENS) I commented on her appearance….
‘You look a right old slag…’
‘Thanks very much’, she replied, a little sheepishly. OOPS!
Fact is though, she did. The wig which suited her best was a feathered cut style with a fringe, in brown verging on black under the subdued lighting of the playroom. Coupled with the PVC, the heels and the, shall we say ‘well worn’ ostensibly female face, she looked for all the world the type you sometimes see on a summer Sunday afternoon, front garden on an estate, downing beers with a group of working men ‘aving a larf’ & a little worse for wear, flirting with ‘many a good tale’ (& tune!) if truth be told. Wayne was no more. He’d well and truly morphed into Michaela, visibly aroused now, evidenced by her nipples outlined & erect, bound by the tight PVC of the dress.
‘Wait there’ I told her, directing her to lay on the bed.
‘Think slutty thoughts’ ‘lesbian sex’, ‘I’ll be two minutes right?’
‘Right’ she replied
Exiting the playroom I hurried to the office to change from pro male dom into cross dressing (CD) mode. Untying my boots, then dropping the leather strides, I slipped out of the uniform, revealing the more feminine ‘me’. The denim skirt wasn’t creased, it just needed pulling down a bit to cover the tops of the holdups (just!). Fortunately the suspender straps had remained fastened, all that was needed was the lace top, the heels, and the wig. I got them all sorted in a couple of minutes, checking appearances with a small hand mirror, before making my way back to Michaela in the playroom. She still lay sprawled, playing with the chastity device.
‘Oh WOW’
She’d been expecting me to be feminised, nevertheless the radical change took her by surprise…
‘Let’s go down’
Stepping ahead of her, I ushered Michela towards the stairs.
‘Go down sideways and hold on!’ ‘Slowly!’
Invariably, When CD’s get to experience ‘normal surroundings’ they get more turned on. Most of them will have been closeted behind closed doors, save for the times they’ve been left to themselves for extended periods, whole days if they’re lucky, when they can INDULGE. I’ve known men with genuine gender dysphoria suffering for decades, and I’ve watched them enter a kind of sub space…transformed in a place of safety where they’ll not be judged, the very essence of ‘intimacy’ gained through trust. Sadly, I’ve also witnessed first hand instances where 5 year old’s have been lead astray through unsupervised internet use, decided they’re gonna change sex, then been aided and abetted by lefty teachers signed up to the woke agenda & destruction of the family unit, worthy of a blogpost in itself. In point of fact I’ve been researching that subject for years & like you perhaps, wondered how it makes sense. More recently, with what’s going on worldwide particularly the US, I’ve learned more….fascinating stuff it is too, surrounding what’s known as ‘The Fourth Turning’. IT fits with the madness. I’ll likely share what I’ve discovered in the Spring issue of NEWS VIEWS AND SCREWS.
The living room has a tufted rug, leather sofas, and a laminate floor, with patio doors out to a sunny garden; plenty of room to walk tall, and to ‘live the dream’. Not that she could walk! In common with many *men* who like to become women, Michaela lacked finesse, not least in terms of deportment. Her legs were bandy, despite the low heels.
‘Straighten up!’
‘Go on, tauten those thighs’
‘Push out your bum, feel the little slut you are….’
I needed her to get in the zone. ‘Look in the mirror’
Walking up close, I fondled her nipples, then pulled down the zip, exposing one pert breast; it, in isolation from her midriff still covered by the PVC looked more real now, so much so that I felt stirrings ‘down below’ as I squeezed it. It felt firm, but with a degree of flexibility. Hugging Michaela, I encouraged her hands, to wander….
‘Go on, lift up my skirt, don’t be shy….’
Then, with one hand placed on the fine mesh of the thong, she began to feel me grow.
Breaking away for a minute I let her see the bulge… the thong with a weave similar to that of pantyhose, all but concealed my cock, semi hard now in anticipation…
Within seconds it had mushroomed. There was a real risk it would pop out; ‘Do you wanna see it Michaela?’
Calling her by her feminine name pleased her… slowly but surely she was feeling the transformation. It was taking place IN HER BRAIN. Remember the email where she alluded to ‘having to feel right?’ That was my goal…hypnosis almost.
I’m not going to share every minute detail of what followed…rest assured it was forty five minutes of FULL ON debauchery, hedonism with a lesbian flavour. At one point I exclaimed ‘Oh my god, that would make such a fantastic photo’ as she closed in on my cock; it was one of those scenes destined to remain permanently etched on my mind, she, with wig slightly skewed, innate masculinity at odds with her feminine guise, but incredibly horny nonetheless. Sexually charged I would describe it; the atmosphere…. thoughts of positive ions colliding, of heat, the ‘body electric’ [a subject in itself], intense pleasure, lust, moments that don’t repeat too often, I’m sure you’ll have been there, and if not then perhaps its time you did something about it.
Towards the end of the cross dressing session I’d led her back to the playroom, and we finished on the bondage bed. Now it was time for Act 1 scene 2: electro. She told me she’d once had a bipolar plug in her ass courtesy of a Mistress, and that was all. Cuffing her to the bench I set her legs in the stirrups and encouraged her to move forward until she was partially suspended facing the big floor mirrors. The electro loop threaded through the openings in the chastity device got hooked up to a 2mm cable, the other side was connected to a small satin finish anal flange. After careful insertion we were good to go. To prevent it popping out I wound bondage tape around the frame and across her bum, then for good measure taped her arms, and buckled a strap across her belly. The PVC dress got unzipped, exposing her nipples, then, after supporting her head with a cushion I got to work with the mains powered 2B.
Michaela had given the meeting a lot of thought. She’d also read ‘Letting Go’ so came fully prepared to do just that. For a quarter of an hour I kept gently upping the power step by step until we reached 25%; some guys can’t get past 15 let alone 25. The feeling was there, but I knew she could take more. Unfortunately her clit had shrunk to such a degree the loop was no longer making good contact & that’s a problem. Any movement of the body risks displacing it further, inducing a sharp jolt as the point of electrical contact reduces. Sometimes it can be quite severe so we agreed to remove the chastity device, and go with something else; a pad this time connected to a larger 37mm butt plug the other side. Over time I got her up to 45%, helped now and then with a blast of poppers. The PVC restraints had to be cut due to the length of time in position, giving her more movement… which was good, because to cope with the load she had to really focus and clench the metal frame tight. My aim was to try and bring her to the ‘frenzied’ stage and I’d say we were three quarters of the way there. I’d moved off the floor to stand next to her, tweaking the power unit and her nipples simultaneously. She never said much when I was on her nipples. It was as if she remained to be convinced they’d contribute much to the arousal. Nevertheless, I could tell by her body movements and breathing that ‘they were an area of interest’ to say the least. Clitty remained soft. You can never tell how they will react… More often than not, guys, including myself go through phases. Sometimes the electro kills an erection, other times it promotes it, and occasionally it goes full circle, any of which can culminate in a ‘happy ending’. You never know because everybody’s different.
Loosely following the bullet points against my ‘timetable’, I changed tack. Untying the straps I helped her off the bench. I got her to stand tall, arms outreached, hands gripping the top frame of the bondage bed. Next on the agenda was a gimp hood. It’s leather with holes for eyes and mouth, and it straps up really tight. I attached a visor over the eyes, clipped on a collar and lead, then led her onto the bed itself. One of my fave activities (and that of clients), is so called ‘forced bi’, for prolonged periods of time while being held tight on the leash, and DIRECTED so to speak. But I have to say it didn’t really light Michaela’s fire. She wanted to get hard and it wasn’t happening. She told me she wanted tighter bondage. So I chained her to the frame, and it was AMAZING. No sooner had I finished adjusting the shackles, her cock had swollen. In a half minute it went from a nub of a clitoris buried in a forest of hair, to an erect penis in full glory, twitching too, such was the level of arousal brought about by the bondage. An ‘aha’ moment for sure. I knew I had something to work with, what’s more it was big enough to get two large electro loops around, with space to keep them separate from one another. In no time at all I had the 2B fired up again. It was a different sensation from before. Throbbing. The gimp mask had him slightly disorientated. It also enabled me to move around without being seen. I feyned leaving the room, closing the door ‘behind’ me, abandoning him. I watched him raise his head and cock it to one side, then the other, repeatedly, listening, as he could not see. I even managed to re-open the door as he strained against the chains, and move further away, dragging the control box with me on its long cable. Pushing his limits relentlessly, I kept stepping up the power then minutely reducing it so’s not to create alarm. I got him rockin’ and all the time his cock stayed hard, impressively so, a good 6 inches and thick too. He was whining ‘OOOHHHH let me go, pleeeeeease let me go………….’ over and over. He knew the safe-word and he wasn’t using it so there was no reason for me to halt the session. Time however, was our enemy. Three hours had elapsed & we were now on overtime. Moving ever so quietly back, I leaned over him..
‘Now then!’
He seemed startled…‘AWEEEE you’ve been there all the time!…’
‘Err No!’
‘Do you wanna cum?’
‘YES!’
‘Not yet! Not till master gives you PERMISSION’ giving me carte blanche to tweak the controls once more until it became almost unbearable. I was striving to deliver the background wave of feeling akin to what you experience the split second before cumming; that sweet spot, and to hold it there…. and wait for him to beg ‘Please let me cum, pleeeeease let me cum’
‘Oh God, pleeeeeeease’ he cried repeatedly.
Then it was all over. He’d cum and he hadn’t known he’d cum. A kind of ruined orgasm. Thick white semen dribbled from his cock still restrained by the loop. It wouldn’t stop but he never experienced that bittersweet PUMP. He didn’t know what he was feeling to be fair. I knew that given time he’d feel spent and wholly satisfied, but not right now. And that my friends, is another TRUE account of a session with fun50geeze aka Northern Master. Who’s next?