Look at Me

Seeing as Saturday ended up being a day close to home (and close to the bone) I decided I needed to try something different for Sunday.

My Master sets me many varied tasks to complete and the one I struggle with every single time is the wig. I’ve had short hair my entire adult life. The longest it’s been in two decades is jaw length and the shortest is a number one. These days I hover in between.

So wearing my hair long enough to graze my waist is such a challenge. It completely changes how I look and how I feel. And I find it so incredibly impractical as well at times. I just not used to having hair in my face.

It’s taken quite a while to get used to wearing it at all because it took that time to work why my Master tells me to do it. But since I turned into Candi, I’m starting to rather like it. The feel of the hair brushing against my back as I get dressed immediately starts to get me in the mood and into my role.

I’ve been enjoying my new hair on the shoots I’ve done and the dates I’ve been on and when I’m with my Master, but I’ve still been struggling with wearing it when I’m with people I’m not sexual with.

I have enjoyed it on occasion like meeting some mutual friends of mine and my Master’s after he’d fisted and fucked me on my living room floor and then sent me off for birthday drinks with black hair for the first time. It looked and felt great and I couldn’t work out why it was didn’t work so well the next time.

Turns out sucking my Master’s cock until he came in my mouth before going out for cocktails meant my lips were exactly the right shade of red to suit black hair and pale skin and it took a while to find the equivalent in Boots.

And it also took a while to get the nerve to wear something I now so closely associate with sex when I’m out and about being non sexual. Admitting to myself I’m very rarely non sexual these days when wearing a waist trainer and no underwear daily helped match the two identities up more.

So on Sunday I decided to wear Candi’s black hair with my own clothes and go somewhere no one knew me to help get used to it. I’d heard about a tattoo exhibition at the Museum of London and thought I might pick up some useful information for my own tattoo that’s on my list for this year.

Once I got past the slight awkwardness of having my bag with the fist toy and a bottle of lube searched at the front door, it turns out wandering round  was exactly what I needed to do to get used to my new look. Concentrating on the exhibits distracted me nicely apart from noticing the occasional glance from men as I flicked my ponytail over my shoulder.

Wearing such feminine hair with much more hard femme clothes felt just right and I almost didn’t want to take it off when I got home. It’s helping nuture my growing exhibtionism nicely. I’m definitely not going to be growing my own hair, but I did just order an even longer wig…

Look at Me

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