Monthly Archives: October 2013



There are moments.

Points along the paths of completely separate lives. Conjunctions. Synchronicities. Meetings of circumstances, of situations, of desires.

Unexpected connections that cannot be explained or analysed. A union of minds. A merging of longing. A combination. A bond. An affinity.

Sometimes they reach across a dance floor, an office, a crowded street, a bar, a cafe, the last train home.

Sometimes they cross oceans, cultures, generations and continents.

There are moments.

They may mean everything. Or nothing. Or some unfathomable space in between.

But if we do not grasp them, they are gone.




© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Photo stolen from Oeuf-au-riz




Posted by on October 27, 2013 in D/s, Still Life


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Your name


I spoke your name today.

I tried it in my mouth. I rolled the syllables over my tongue. I tested you upon my lips. I listened to the sound you made.

I imagined whispering softly. Quiet, eloquent poetry. Words of adoration. A gentle instruction. A firm command

I spoke your name today

You tasted like heaven in my mouth

I recited you.

Over and over.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Thomas Saliot



Posted by on October 23, 2013 in D/s, Poetry, Still Life


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She wonders about him….

Outside, the night is pressing inky black against the leaded window of his study. The dark has cloaked the gardens, the trees, the fields, the river, and the church with its sleeping dead. There are no lights twinkling in this secluded place. There is the bark of a fox, the noisy movements of small deer, the wild call of a hunting owl. Migrating geese, preparing. From somewhere distant a dog howls once. Further still a train makes a mournful sound.

His study is predominantly blue. A dusky, muted blue.

A high ceiling. Bare stained oak floorboards. Ultra modern technology. Two acoustic guitars wait patiently on stands. Walls rich with pictures – photographs, originals, limited editions and inexpensive prints – black and white seascapes and forests, Venice, dancers, a jazz club, a cafe, women.

He taps on a keyboard with long fingers, glancing up at the emerging sentences on a large screen. He is a faded, lean man in a loose, surfer sweat top, battered denim jeans. He is still wearing his formal cotton shirt and cufflinks from the business day. His feet are bare on wood.

He types and the edges of his mouth curve upwards as he fashions the words.

His smile becomes broader as he imagines her reading them.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Photograph stolen from Deborah Champion


Posted by on October 22, 2013 in Still Life


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It is strange, this on-line attraction.

An ache for someone we only know from a profile,

We judge upon few words. A carefully chosen representative image, a handful of one hundred and forty character conversations. a blog, an insight into a life different to ours.

It is random, illogical and bizarre.

And yet, just once, perhaps twice, I found such a sweet beauty, such a sympathetic heart, such a bright wit, such a pure sexually submissive soul, such a desirable body, such a creative mind, that I now believe beyond reason.

Even though I know that, within a thousand shells, there is but one natural, perfect, pearl.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Photo taken from the web, uncredited at source. My apologies, please contact me if it is yours.


Posted by on October 21, 2013 in D/s, Still Life


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When she falls

Dressed to Kill by Jack Vettriano

When She Falls


She has that look.

Something in the eyes.

In the line of her nose.

The tilt of her chin.

The set of her jaw.

She is bright, brave and assured.

But when she falls,

she will fall.


She has that smile.

Something in the curve.

In the line of her mouth,

The shape of her lips.

The show of her teeth.

She is cool, collected and poised.

But when she falls,

she will fall.


She has that way.

Something in the words.

In the sweep of her thoughts.

The pride in her voice,

The ice in her veins,

She is proud, aloof and secure.

But when she falls,

she will fall.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Jack Vettriano


Posted by on October 20, 2013 in D/s, Poetry


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Every inch


I sense you.

I feel your warmth, hear your breathing. I catch a hint of your scent. I can almost taste your skin.

Your presence seems close. Sensual, delicate, compelling, submissive, heavenly.

I imagine touching your face, Your throat, your naked shoulders, your exquisite breasts.

Owning you. The thought thrills me beyond measure.

I will know you completely.

Every word, every breath, every smile, every sigh, every  fantasy, every curve.

Every inch of your perfect body



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Photo stolen from Yesterday’s Pizza



Posted by on October 18, 2013 in D/s, Erotica


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Man of Steel

Dear Romantic

This is not the first time that I have had cause to write.

I am disappointed in you.

I know that we sometimes don’t see eye to eye. It is inevitable given the difference in our perspectives. But usually I respect and, you will be surprised to read, even admire you. There is clearly something about hearts and flowers that resonates with women. I am honest enough to admit that I would not be nearly as compelling without your influence.

But recently you have gone beyond romantic. You have shown signs of becoming sentimental. That is unforgivable. It is a deeply unattractive trait and one which I have no desire to be associated. I have read somewhere that as women age they cry less, whereas men are compelled to shed tears more often. Believe me, tears are neither masculine nor attractive.

Much worse than that, in your recent dealings with women you have become embarrassing. Despite my efforts you have become weak, you have compromised, you have allowed your will – our will – to be bent or twisted. You have become immersed in relationships that are complex and, in straying from the pure D/s path that is our religion, have been doomed to fail. You are in danger of losing the dignity, credibility and gravitas that our experience and knowledge command.

I repeat. I am disappointed. I expect change.

Who we are depends upon it.





© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Anne Magill


Posted by on October 16, 2013 in D/s, Still Life


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