All because

Art by Steve Hanks

She is content

yet restless


yet bold


yet excited


yet joyful


yet on fire


yet nervous


yet on the edge

all because

she knows

she belongs

to him.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Steve Hanks


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Posted by on July 24, 2016 in Still Life


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Another of my occasional posts playing you music I like, but you might not know.

‘Wona’ is a fantastic collaboration between Mumford & Sons, Baaba Maal, The Very Best and Beatenberg. It is from a collection of songs called Johannesburg and recorded recently, as you might imagine, in South Africa.

Infectious, melodic, uplifting. And great musicianship.


© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Music written and performed by Mumford & Sons, Baaba Maal, Beatenberg, The Very Best. 


Posted by on July 23, 2016 in Music


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Art by Steve Hanks

This wanting you

is as constant

as the ebb and flow

of the sea

the waxing and waning

of the moon

the ever-present pull

of gravity

and the endless turning

of the planet.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Steve Hanks


Posted by on July 22, 2016 in Still Life


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Sometimes I long

to make you my captive

blindfold your eyes

bind your ankles and wrists

and steal you away

from the rest of the world.

Only to release you

into my adoring arms.


A kidnap

and a rescue

all in one.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Marcos Beccari


Posted by on July 21, 2016 in D/s, Still Life


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Art by Andrea Hubner


I will feel a gentle

breath of wind

on the skin

of my cheek

that has once

run its fingers

through your hair.


I shall know

and smile.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Andrea Hubner




Posted by on July 20, 2016 in Poetry, Still Life


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Singing hymns

Sharon Sprung 1953 - American Figurative painter - Tutt'Art@

Whatever happens

wherever I go

however much

I remember

or forget

and no matter who

you care about

instead of me

there will always be

a midnight choir

of fallen angels

singing hymns

in my soul

just for you.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Sharon Sprung


Posted by on July 19, 2016 in Poetry, Still Life


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Sleeping Beauty

Photography by Tiffany Zettlemoyer

She is sleeping

Her breathing is shallow. Her chest rises and falls. He counts the seconds and studies her for signs of waking.

There are none.

He says her name. Softly.

Again. A little louder. But still quietly. He does not really want her to stir.

He gently takes her hand in his. It is small, and soft, and cool. Her fingers lie over his. They are quiet and still. His thumb and forefinger circle her wrist. He can feel her pulse. He imagines it quickening, but he cannot be sure. He lowers her hand to the bed.

She is beautiful. Her hair is raven black against her pale skin. Her lips are perfectly formed and ruby-red. She is wearing a pure white dress that is fitted at the breast, tight at the waist, and clinging to her hips. Sleeping Beauty

He knows he should kiss her, rouse her from her slumber, bring her back to consciousness.

But her still and perfect form has mesmerised him, captivated him, bewitched him. He feels himself harden as he moves towards her. He murmurs her name again. His throat stifles the sound.

He reaches out and with almost trembling fingers he strokes her cheek. Her skin is warm to his touch.

She does not stir.

He carefully undoes the first of the buttons. And then another. And a third. The gorgeous swell of her breasts makes him dizzy with desire.

At the sixth button, as the material begins to peel open, he realises she is naked underneath.


She is not sleeping.

She senses him standing by the narrow bed, gazing at her. She knows his eyes are upon her, taking in every curve, and every line. She waits. And tries to control her breathing.

She focuses on keeping perfectly still.

She hears him say her name. Twice. She ignores it, forbidding her eyelids to flicker.

He picks up her hand. His sudden touch in the darkness almost makes her flinch with surprise. His fingers are long and thin. She fears he will feel her pulse race crazily as his thumb presses against her flesh. He releases her gently, and she knows.

She is certain about what is going to happen when she hears her name a third time, and it is said like a faint prayer in a hoarse and caressing whisper.

His touch upon her cheek is like fire. She almost gasps at her own arousal.

He begins to undo the buttons of her dress.



Deliciously slowly.

This is heaven.

She will not wake now..



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Photo by Tiffany Zettlemoyer

This is not new, I wrote it some time ago. But I like it, it has proved popular – and I hope you can forgive yet another outing


Posted by on July 18, 2016 in Erotica


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