He knows no other way
It is simply who he is. The way he has always been.
His earliest erotic fantasies were of control. And of damsels in distress.
And yet also of goddesses and worship.
He loves women. With respect. With admiration. With a deep and endless desire.
He needs to adore and to be adored.
Over the years has taught himself to be a Master of exquisite pleasure and delicious pain. He has known beauty, sensuality and submission beyond words.
But now winter tugs at his coat. He has become lined and grizzled, etched and silver.
The night is long. And his fire burns low.
Yet there is a light. Innocent, pure and holy.
Could she be the one
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
I wrote this in December three of years ago, and repeated it last year at this time. I think I was perhaps feeling a little weary when I first penned it. Smiles.
It has a wintry feel, so I hope it goes well with the snowflakes falling on my blog.
Photo/Art borrowed from Helionn on DeviantArt