Monthly Archives: July 2012

The poetry of her

My words cannot match the poetry of her body.

I am a few paces behind her.  She knows my eyes are following. She knows I adore the dress she is wearing. It is simple and elegant, and so dark-blue it is black. . It touches her as if sewn against her skin by an enchanted seamstress.

The zip running from the neck to very low on her back is as bold as an invitation.

She can feel my desire touching her like electricity. It makes her feel special and proud. It puts an almost imperceptible extra sway into her exquisite hips.

Her legs in heels can only be the result of some divine artistry.

I cannot master the poetry of her curves

If only I could master her.


Posted by on July 17, 2012 in D/s


Tags: , , , , , , ,

Random Acts

Sometimes I am prone to random acts..

We have been silent companions for over a year.

In all that time we have never spoken.  Usually we do not acknowledge each other’s presence.

This evening I wrote, in my spidery fountain-pen hand, words on a Post-It note. To her surprise (and mine) I affixed it to the screen of her treadmill.  It read:

This is not a pass.  I am old and married.
But you have a rare, natural beauty and I
just had to tell you.  I hope you are not
offended or embarrassed.
I will not bother you in any way.

I was rewarded with an astonished ‘Thank You’ and a smile that made her extraordinary face even more lovely..


Posted by on July 16, 2012 in Still Life


Tags: , , , , , ,

Make Me Steel

She believes it is an inferno

She says it is blazing out of control inside me.

She can hear it roaring angry as a chimney-fire

She can sense it devouring hungry as a forest-fire.

She can feel the heat on my skin, the intensity in my eyes, the passion in my voice.

She is seared by my ardor, scalded by my desire, scorched by my longing.

She is blinded by the light of this brilliant new star.

She knows that the white-hot flame is not for her

She does not know it burns only for Beauty

She does not care

She only wants to take me

To have me dive into her cool, dark waters.

To have me plunge into her liquid depths.

To quench the boiling core that seethes inside me.

To temper the raw molten alloy

And make me steel.


Posted by on July 16, 2012 in Lovers Past


Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Arctic Circles




Constant sunshine on northern water,

daylight beyond midnight,

golden night without dawn.

Sleepless children awash with summer,

liberated from winter

in the clear light reborn.


Laughter above the splash of paddles

echoes down the river

into perfect blue skies.

Canoes glide on ribbons of silver,

as wilful as horses

on a morning ride.


You and I turning arctic circles,

backwards and forwards,

compelled by the tide.

Swirling rapids chopping around us

increase the peril

of a sudden capsize.


Copyright the author writing as Romantic Dominant


This poem was written about Tiger Cub.  We were in Rovaniemi, Finland on the Arctic Circle, a good many years ago now. We were part of some corporate event of my devising.  We had spent a day with others on a northern safari. We were no more than work colleagues (she was my PA) but together we manoeuvred things so that we shared a canoe.  That evening we laughed and danced, and kissed, and I took her to her room in the early hours of the morning with the sky as bright as day.

I put her, tired and rather intoxicated, to bed. The perfect gentleman.

I gave her this poem as a gift a few days after our return.

Two weeks later, in a quiet hotel in Shannon, Ireland, I slowly undressed her and we began what turned out to be our mutual initiation into an extraordinary D/s relationship.  

Everything changed.  The Romantic Dominant fully emerged from the darkness he had inhabited since birth.


Posted by on July 15, 2012 in D/s, Lovers Past, Poetry


Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Not today

I will not think of her today.

I have far too much to do.

I will not think of her sitting opposite, her delicate fingers wrapped around a glass of wine.  And then her leaning back, capturing her hair, guiding it over one shoulder, baring her gorgeous throat.

I will not recall her laughter, bubbling up, making her eloquent brown eyes dance, and bringing an immediate smile to my lips.

I will not call to mind her voice, its honeyed sweetness and warmth so softly caressing me.

I will not check my mail, or my phone, now and again, just in case, on the off-chance, even knowing she cannot make contact.

I will not remember how she put her arms around my neck the last time we were out, in the town beside the sea. I will not summon up the delicious frisson of that divine, intimate moment.

I will not remind myself that we held hands briefly, in the car, between my shifting gears.

I will not imagine her in a blue dress, the tight silky bodice highlighting her lovely breasts and tiny waist.

I will not remember her achingly perfect body beneath it.

I will not, will not, will not conjure up memories of that night …

I will not think of her today.

I have far, far too much to do.


Posted by on July 14, 2012 in Lovers Past


Tags: , , , , , , ,


He clicks open her photograph and cannot help but smile.

Her hair is dark, framing her pale face and falling soft on elegant, bare shoulders.  Wide, chestnut-brown eyes stare out from beneath an intelligent forehead.

She is not smiling.

She appears haunted.  Yet she is haunting.

She is not beautiful but she has the mark of beauty.

She is not pure, but she has been brushed by innocence.

She is not vulnerable but she is placing herself in danger.

She is not untouchable but she has not been touched.

At least, not in the way he knows she has always ached to be touched.

Submission shines from her every pore.

He shuts down the image.  He has seen enough.

She has his attention now.  He wants her.

She will be his.


Originally posted in my Shadows & Dancers blog


Posted by on July 13, 2012 in D/s, Lovers Past


Tags: , , , , , ,


She is coming towards me, walking with others.

But I see only her.  Her beauty is beyond compare.

Her gorgeous eyes catch mine

She smiles her secret smile and the conversation I am having with someone else stalls in mid-flight.

Earlier she had told me that she values my presence in her life.

She is surprised I ever doubted it.


Posted by on July 12, 2012 in Lovers Past


Tags: , , , , , , ,