I engaged in a conversation with a gentleman I met in the corridors of this conference I’m attending; he remarked in passing that I was dressed quite formally for the occasion, I was the only one on a suit and tie. I began saying that I enjoyed wearing a tie, that I was taught to always look smart, and so on; the gentleman looked at me with an oddly piercing look, and said:
‘Taught? Who teaches you this?’
At which I had to take a deep breath and I proceeded to say ‘I have a supervisor, who enourages me…’ and he cut me off rather harshly:
‘I don’t think you have a “supervisor”. I think you have a master. Am I right?’
I was stumped - how did he know that, etc, and I was quiet for two seconds, I guess I got a bit red in the face too - which he took for a ‘yes’. And then he grabbed me by the chin - in the middle of a busy room, brusquely, as you would do with a naughty child. He said: ‘I could see right away what you are. You are a sub. You have a Master. Does he tell you to dress this way?’
‘Good. What does he call you?’
He then let go of my chin.
‘Good boy, I’m sure your master is proud of you, but next time you really should volunteer that straightaway. So no more ‘supervisor’, understood?’
And then it was over and we went back to ‘normal’ conference pleasantness, and he didn’t mention it again, but I turned red every time I caught his glare from across the halls.
amandla
2087
titsay
dailybridgerton
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turnnoffyourmind
