Monthly Archives: August 2015


Art by Steve Hanks

I am endlessly enchanted

by the sweet submissive soul

who has longed

who has ached

who has yearned

who has burned

to be discovered

to be released

to belong

yet has always

remained silent.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by the late Steve Hanks


Posted by on August 31, 2015 in D/s, Still Life


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Surely fall

Art by Steve Hanks

I have never met her.

Yet I can smell her scent on my fingers.

I can hear her laughter. The way it lifts and dances and makes me smile.

I can feel the press of her body, her skin soft against mine, my face buried in her hair,  I can imagine how she responds to my touch, the blush in her throat, the quickening of her breath and the rising of her breasts.

The hardening of her nipples. Her wetness against my thigh.

I can taste her kiss. So vividly that I am running the tip of my tongue over my lips to capture the sweetness.

I can see her eyes, bright, eloquent, shining, luminous.

Making me sigh.

I have never met her

But if I did

I would surely fall.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by the late Steve Hanks


Posted by on August 30, 2015 in Still Life


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Loui Jover 'bliss'

She has seen too many summers to be completely innocent.

And yet he has made her so.

She is new, pristine, spotless.

She is pure, virtuous, chaste and naive.

She is unsullied, unblemished, undefiled.

She has become a neophyte, a learner, a beginner.

A novice on her first day, her white dress pressed and spotless, the hem gently brushing her bare legs.

She is his pupil, his student, his apprentice, his initiate.

She is his disciple, his follower, his protegé.

She is his slave, his angel, his goddess, his Muse.

In this quiet, holy, secret place, she kneels before him.

Her mind and body are burning.

She is ablaze with desire.

She is thirsty for knowledge.

She aches to learn every rule, every code, every facet, every element, every shade.

Every verse of his dark and decadent religion.

She is hungry for him to instruct her, to teach her, to guide her, to discipline her.

To show her a wild, breathless universe of pleasure and pain.

She wants him to do everything.

She is his.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Loui Jover 


Posted by on August 29, 2015 in D/s, Erotica, Still Life


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Not an end




This is not an end

Summer is almost over. It hangs in the air, chilled by September’s cool fingers. Its faded plumage is already drooping its head, fearing the first frost. Yesterday I harvested a brave bunch of final, fragrant roses and they filled the room with romance and loss.

I have become fascinated by cloud, Wispy, delicate cirrus, puffy, storybook cumulus, layers of cumulonimbus, filling the sky. I know a coming storm by sight. And by smell. The fresh tang of rain in my nostrils. Electricity raising the hairs on the back of my neck.

The heavens are black with the future. For the first time in my life I am afraid of it. And afraid for it.

I have been adored. By women of beauty and intelligence who I usually did not deserve. I have lit candles, carried torches, and burned sacred flares through long, holy nights.  And yet I have seldom revealed my soul fully in the light. I know to some I have become a constant source of vague, haunting, nagging disappointment they have never been able to shed.

And now, today, with my life changing, I no longer feel I can be adored.

It is not simply a question of age. I am a distance from young, but some men are lucky in the way time etches their faces and imposes itself on their bodies. I am one such man. Neither is it  a dark temperament, although I can be cold and aloof, cynical and severe, and unreachable by choice. And It is certainly not about charm – I can still turn it on like a spotlight to blind and seduce.

It is something deep inside me I cannot define.

Like the taste of Autumn in the gathering breeze, or the touch of a friend as they take their leave, or the sight of smoke on the horizon.

Something is drawing to a close.

Yet this is not an end

This is a beginning.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Fabian Perez

I wrote this a year ago. Time became suspended. I feel this still.


Posted by on August 28, 2015 in Still Life


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I do not think of you


I do not think of you.

You have electrified me

with longing

saturated me

with lust

drenched me with desire

so utterly

so completely

I am way beyond thinking.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Fabian Perez



Posted by on August 26, 2015 in Erotica, Poetry


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From afar

Curves by John Markese


You are a distant land

One I will never reach. Never touch. Never fully claim.

And yet I want to know your geography.

Every inch of your tempting, tender terrain.

I want to uncover your lovely, luscious landscape.

Study you from each perfect, precious, peerless, perspective

Map your marks, covet your curves, lust over your lines, ache for your angles.

I want to discover you,

I want to uncover you

and cover you

with words.

I want to be thrilled by my journey to the very heart of you

adoring you

wanting you

worshipping you

from afar.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by John Markese

apologies for the hoarse voice – in meetings all day




Posted by on August 25, 2015 in Erotica, Still Life


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Days like today

Loui jover

When the days are like today

January in August,

The bleak, grey sky choked with clouds. Pavements puddled. Drenched, defeated holiday children huddled at forlorn bus stops. Rain running in relentless rivers down office windows. Deserted, long abandoned al fresco tables.

Headlights on in the afternoon.

Drains despairing at the deluge. Dismal dogs trailing on their leads. Mothers with shopping bags and soaking shoes and gritted teeth. The constant sad swish of weary windscreen wipers.

When the days are like today

I need you

to reach out and touch me

I need you

to share my umbrella

I need you

to be my summer.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Loui Jover



Posted by on August 24, 2015 in Still Life


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