Image via Pixabay
I have never been great at making eye contact. Just as I don’t want strangers in my physical personal space, I don’t necessarily want them in my mental and emotional space. I joke that I have a personal bubble (a rather small one). That bubble extends to making eye contact.
If I can’t have a conversation with a random stranger (and I rarely can), I can’t make eye contact either. Oh, I’ll stare, weaving a story in my mind, but the moment they notice, I look away. Blame it on my introverted nature or the way society has changed over the decades. My parents could wave and say “Hi” to a stranger, but I’ll be looking at my shoes, my phone, or the sky above your head.
There is something inherently personal about staring into someone’s eyes. You convey messages with your eyes. It’s those messages that make me nervous. I don’t know what they say or mean. I can read body language and facial expressions. But I have never been able to “read” someone’s eyes. At the same time, I don’t always want someone to read whatever I’m saying with my eyes. It’s too personal.
If the eyes are the windows to the soul, making eye contact feels a bit like loitering on the lawn, hoping the drapes open enough to get a peek. I don’t want anyone looking into my house (or soul) uninvited, so I’d rather not do the same to anyone else.
But it’s not just eye contact with strangers – which many of us avoid. Eye contact with a person you know (or at least, interact with) conveys a sense of power.
I hold eye contact with my children when I’m trying to make a point with them. They look away first, and I feel like I’m maintaining dominance over them for at least another day.
In an argument or serious discussion, I might make eye contact to show someone I’m serious or because the intensity of the conversation demands it.
Maybe that explains why I find it so difficult to keep eye contact with John Brownstone. When we’re in a serious discussion – about life, D/s, or business – I can do it for a moment or two. It goes back to that “take me serious” vibe I want him to sense. But outside of those moments? I can’t.
I’m the proverbial dog that must look away after a few seconds. He’s in charge. He’s the alpha between us. To stare into his eyes and hold contact feels like a power struggle, and it’s one I don’t want to win, even if I could.
When he says, “Look at me” in the middle of kinky fuckery, I struggle. I can do it because he’s demanded it of me. But not for long. Certainly not as long as he wants me to do it. Depending on his mood, though, it can quickly become part of our play.
“Look at me, girl.” I do it, because he said so. But it doesn’t last. The moment I look away, he slaps me – my cunt, my tits, my face (consensually, of course), whatever it takes to get my attention. My eyes dart back to his, but they soon have to move away again. It’s too difficult to keep eye contact. Eventually, once pleasure takes over – as it usually does – my eyes close anyway.
“I said, ‘Look at me'” and my eyes fly open just as he devises some other means of funishment. Another slap. A pinched nipple. Pulled hair. His fingers holding my chin, bringing me face within an inch or two of his, forcing the eye contact. The power struggle isn’t with him. It’s within myself. Can I bring myself to do what’s commanded by the most dominant of us that also feels powerful?
When it’s a kinky game we play, it turns delicious, because even when I lose, I win. Out in the “real” world where staring is considered rude (but I still do it) and I’d rather not be “seen,” I can’t and won’t make eye contact. Unless we’re talking about the meaning of life or I have something Very Serious I want you to know, no thank you. I can always find somewhere else to look.
Welcome to Wicked Wednesday! This week’s topic is about eye contact. We haven’t made eye contact kinky lately, but I’m sure it’ll be on the menu soon enough. Looking for more wickedness? Click below!