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Spellbound

 

A silent

soft night

surrounds me.

 

I summon

shapes of you.

 

Subtle

sensual shadows

everywhere.

 

I am held

spellbound

by your certain

surrender.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Mark Demsteader

 

 
6 Comments

Posted by on May 31, 2020 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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More than your name

 

I whispered more

than your name

last night

before finally

I slept.

 

I whispered more

than your name

last night,

bravely

into the dark,

like a poem

like a prayer.

 

I whispered more

than your name

last night,

hoping the soft

seeking syllables,

the wishing

wanting words

would somehow

reach you

and touch you

deep.

 

I whispered more

than your name

last night.

 

Perhaps

you didn’t hear.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not new, but I whispered your name.

Art by Amy Judd

 
8 Comments

Posted by on May 30, 2020 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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A darker twist

 

She is naked.

She runs her fingertips along her cheeks and lightly over lips.

So gently that her skin tingles.

She closes her eyes and trails them over her chin, onto her neck and into the hollow of her throat.

They trace a line across her collar bones. She shivers. But she is not cold.

She is surprised to find her skin so sensitive to her own touch.

She parts her thighs. Wide. As wide as she can.

Breathing hard she allows her hands to slide down and cup her breasts.

She slowly circles her areolae with her thumbs, feeling the already erect nipples harden into tight buds.

She strokes herself, exquisite arcs of excitement. She almost becomes lost in the sensation.

She imagines her hands becoming his. She is under his instruction, under his control

She takes each nipple between thumb and forefinger.

She begins to squeeze. Hard.

In her mind she can hear his voice. Soft, deep, dark, commanding, certain.

‘Harder’

She tightens her grip and gasps at the pain. And yet also the pleasure.

She knows she is wet. Very.

His voice again.

‘Harder’

This time she is brutal with herself.

She cries out, yet maintains her vice-like grip.

It is like two electric shocks. Red hot wires running from breasts to belly to sex.

Urgent, sharp, shocking. intense.

Heavenly.

The deep pitch of her arousal takes her breath away.

 

She realizes her fantasies have suddenly taken a darker twist.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not a new post – but oh, that darker twist

Art by Steve Hanks

 
4 Comments

Posted by on May 29, 2020 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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In my youth

Art by Annick Bouvattier

A girl like you.

In my youth I would have fought other boys for the right to walk you home. Wearing the scars like a badge. Or I would have wandered backwards and forwards past your house, hoping to catch a glimpse of you at a window. Or long for you to see me, a shadowy figure beneath the street light, and think me romantic.

In my youth I would have carved presumptuous initials into innocent trees, into battered park benches, into tables, and desks, and the backs of chairs – not caring if I was caught. Or that you would disapprove if you knew.

In my youth I would have sought you out at dances, making a mess of my over-rehearsed lines. I would have asked a friend to give you messages – which you would probably receive with a frown.

In my youth I would have made up a hundred heroic stories in my head where I come to your rescue. Saving you from the clutches of the mob, the grip of an assailant, the jaws of death. Or perhaps just finding your lost dog.

In my youth I would have written you tortured poems, toiled over for hours, scrawled on stolen paper, that would never leave the pocket of my faded denim jeans.

In my youth I would have wished for the internet, if I could have seen into the future.

Yet here I am. Connection at my fingertips. Posting pointless poetry.

That you will probably never read

A girl like you.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Written four years ago, and I am still posting pointless poetry.

Art by Annick Bouvattier

 
15 Comments

Posted by on May 28, 2020 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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Addiction

 

Addiction

.

The uncaring night will take me

And oppress me with its heat.

Leave me wide-eyed

and sleepless

In a tangle of tortured sheets.

.

Since you became my addiction

I have wanted no one else.

Only to see you dance before me

I have longed for nothing else.

.

The over-bright dawn will find me

And burden me with its hope.

Leave me confused and restless

Tied up tightly in my own rope.

.

Since you became my addiction

I have wanted no one else.

Only to see you dance before me

I have longed for nothing else.

.

The relentless day will trap me

And unsight me with its glare.

Leave me wandering and helpless

Your distance has stripped me bare.

.

Since you became my addiction

I have wanted no one else.

Only to see you dance before me

I have longed for nothing else.

.

© 2009 the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Past readers of this blog will recognise one of my favourite poems. I wrote it eleven years ago in strange circumstances.
Posted again because sometimes one becomes addicted …

 Art by Rainer Auger

 
13 Comments

Posted by on May 27, 2020 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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I let the night

 

I let the night

bring me you.

 

In imagination,

in dreams,

in intentions,

in desires.

 

I let the night

bring me sleep.

 

I let the night

give me you.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by William Oxer

 
6 Comments

Posted by on May 26, 2020 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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At sea

 

If this

was the same

as swimming

out to sea

to a distant island,

she is now

at the point

where she is too far

from the shore

to return,

and can only

continue,

leaving her clothes

and her inhibitions

behind

on the beach

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not new, but sometimes someone is at sea…

Art by Gerard Duchene

 
6 Comments

Posted by on May 25, 2020 in D/s, Poetry, Still Life

 

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