On of the things I remember reading about before I was a slave and when, at that time, I could never even see myself submitting to a man, was that a slave should never make eye contact with his superior. I always thought that sounded weird but it did make sense, I think. However, as you know, Drew doesn’t think of me as “less than” so, for us, eye contact is actually very important. Let me explain…

As cliché as it may sound, it is said that a person’s eyes are the windows to the soul.  A long time friend has always told me that my eyes are such a dark brown that they are almost black.  Basically, he interpreted that as meaning I was full of shit or maybe demonic.  I’d like to think that if eyes truly are the windows to the soul, my eyes tell a deeper story than that.

On my mental list of super intense swoon-inducing intimate things, looking into someone’s eyes is near the top as one of the most intimate things that a person can do, especially when it comes to Drew.  Yesterday was a very normal day, well as normal as it gets for slave with a locked dick and a plugged hole. My Master and I took care of some around the house repairs while Daddy worked at his office with Saturday patients.  We got the shutters hung back up, the light fixture in the hallway bathroom repaired and a few other miscellaneous items checked off of the weekend chore list.  We washed his car. We planted some things and, then, we trimmed some trees in the back. I was later instructed to choose one of the switches to be used on my unusually not red nor sore ass. I was thrilled. Choosing a switch is something I always remembered from movies when I was growing up or books I read. However, yesterday,  in retrospect, I realize that I knew the the switch I chose would be painful but my eager, straining titanium dick overrode sound logic.  However, it made my Master happy, and I have the still stinging marks to show for what I have decided was either an excellent choice or quite a poor choice.  The jury is still out on that one.

As the day continued and Daddy arrived home from work, we settled in for a little down time.  Usually on days like this, after a spanking, Axel likes to be tender and  nice and usually lets me up on the couch with him so he can help soothe my ass or relax my muscles. Normally, Drew looks somewhat discussed about me being comforted (I am kidding) and sits on the other side of the room with his Master, aka his work Macbook, and just glances at us with a smirk that says the equivalent of “get a room”. Yesterday was different as Drew came and sat with us and the two of them held me while discussing, as if I wasn’t even there, about whether or not having pain and pleasure at the same time was a mindfuck for me. As I spent time with Drew and Axel, my gaze kept returning to my Master’s eyes. This happens often, even in conversation about the most mundane things in our lives. They are beautiful…why any man wouldn’t want to just gaze dreamily into them, I don’t know.  For us, in particular, eye contact conveys many things and serves multiple purposes.  For one, it lets my Master know I am focused on him. At times I can feel a tangible contact when we look into each other’s eyes.  I really fucking feel it.  I see his wheels turning.  They have a certain look to them when he is proud of me, happy with me, impressed by me, or even irritated by me, or, fucking pissed with me, all without saying a single word. I would even go as far as often his expression doesn’t change, but something about his eyes conveys these things. Oh, btw, when he’s hurting me (not harming me), they have a look, too. I know why he is so good with his job because apparently his audiences just watch only his eyes. 

Actually, our eye contact was never part of our rules or requirements, it just became part of all of this that we are and has evolved slightly to have some rules. As a slave, my only rule concerning eye contact is that I must never break eye contact first. I can only think of one time that happened, and I honestly didn’t realize it…my eyes may have been unconsciously rolling into the back of my head – but I paid later. So, our eye contact conveys a range of emotions and feelings.  It holds some sort of tangible feeling across a room at times.  It can even put me into a submissive headspace without even a word.

That eye contact communicates so much without a word.  It encourages me. It tells me I am cared for, and so much more. It helps me to endure some painful times that I wouldn’t otherwise feel I could handle- physically, mentally, and emotionally. I can feel the contact in my body when our eyes meet.  So without any physical touch, I can feel him, communicate with him, and know so much about him.  Our eye contact allows us to be who we truly are unconditionally even out in the boring day to day world.  There may be so much going on around us, but when our eyes meet, the world tends to stop for me.  I can slow things down, process things, be vulnerable to him, and know that I am loved.  

All that, but the absolute most important thing our eye contact tells me is that I am valued, appreciated, and absolutely respected as the slave I have become. I have zero shame in my slavery and, if I every did, there is a pair of bright blue/green eyes to remind me that slavery makes me a special man in the eyes of my Master.

(And did I mention he’s got fucking beautiful eyes?)