Her own touch

10 Aug


She is on her knees.

The room is hushed. Completely still. From somewhere distant there is the sound of a dog barking. Just twice. And further still, the faint peal of church bells.

He sits in an armchair. He is wearing dark blue suit trousers, a striped blue and white cotton shirt, and a deep-red silk tie. His handmade black shoes are polished and shiny.

She is naked.

Except for a leather collar buckled around her elegant throat.

His eyes roam slowly over her body, She can almost feel them as they survey and caress her skin. Contemplating every inch of her. They finally make their way to her face, studying her mouth, her chin, her cheekbones.

Their eyes meet. The electricity crackles across the room.

She waits for instruction.

He says one word.

Her eyelids close for a second. She breathes deeply. Then they open and she returns his gaze.

She moves a hand out from behind her back and up to her neck. Her fingers begin to follow the reverse path his eyes have taken. They lightly slip over her shoulders and down to her breasts. They circle her urgent nipples and her breathing quickens.

They trail over her belly.

She slides her hand between her parted thighs.

She gasps at her own touch.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Photo by DQ-lest




Posted by on August 10, 2013 in D/s, Erotica


Tags: , , , , , , , ,

20 responses to “Her own touch

  1. The Visible Woman

    August 10, 2013 at 2:20 pm

    Great image – that he is dressed, even down to his handmade shoes, yet she is naked…


  2. pivoine68

    August 10, 2013 at 5:23 pm

    Very nice.


  3. Detritus

    August 10, 2013 at 5:28 pm

    Great visualization you create. I quite enjoy the image of a beautiful, naked woman on her knees waiting direction.


  4. Reticent Mental Property

    August 12, 2013 at 3:17 am

    There is no hush in this room, no silence of mind…


  5. angelamiss15

    August 15, 2013 at 5:28 am

    I am inspired by your writings. Your words touch a spot in me many never see or know is there. It is kept protected from the mental pollutants of this calloused social media world. But, I will allow your words to penetrate for you words are like butter on hot toast. Warm and rich. An unexpected delight.


  6. janineyork

    August 19, 2013 at 1:25 am



  7. Romantic Dominant

    August 13, 2014 at 10:16 am

    Reblogged this on A Faded Romantic's Notebook.


  8. arvind

    August 13, 2014 at 10:26 am

    i like that imagination 🙂


  9. Marty

    August 13, 2014 at 2:42 pm



  10. justme39

    August 13, 2014 at 4:44 pm

    wauuuw… Love you’r writings..



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