So I was complaining that total strangers call me a slut and then I get reminders why they do sometimes.
I don’t think anyone could argue that I’m not slutty and while I’m surprisingly subtle at times, it’s like certain men especially can spot it at a few paces. I quite enjoy the challenge of that as I stand my ground, refusing to show any shame and giving them neither encouragement nor denial.
I think that will be my tactic if anyone I know in person ever recognises me as Candi. No shock, no feigned surprise, no acknowledgement but a sneaking enjoyment in the fact the person in front of me just out themselves as kinky and a fan of fisting.
But today’s reminder that I am slutty came when I went into my local branch of Superdrug (to buy razors to keep my cunt smooth for my Master no less) and I set the security alarm off on the way in.
The security guard asked to search my bag and we tried to work out what it might be. It wasn’t the lipstick or the hairspray, but was the emergency bottle of lube I carry so that I’m ready to fist myself in public at any time on my Master’s orders. Turns out despite some enthusiastic use, it still had the security tag on from when I bought it at the self service till.
Watching the security guard’s face as he realised I did in fact have a partly used bottle of lube in my bag as casually as I carry make up or my Kindle amused me greatly. He went from slightly shocked and embarrassed to that mix of impressed and trying to see if he could make me blush quite quickly.
If I can hold my head up without a flicker of mortification when a pretty butch security guard in a museum saw the Belladonna Bitch Fist toy in my bag and knew exactly what it was, a bottle of lube barely made my eye blink.
But maybe I need to remind myself more often it isn’t just my Master who can spot sluttiness and that’s why he’s trained Candi like he has…