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Category Archives: D/s

Teaching

 

My teaching of you

began

when you realized

you were curious

and aroused

enough

to study

my dark

sexual syllabus.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by William Oxer

 
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Posted by on February 27, 2021 in D/s, Poetry, Still Life

 

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No one will do

 

When it comes

to my wanting

a pure

potent

powerful

perfect

paradise,

a peerless

sans pareil

playground

of sexual pleasure,

I am positive

no one will do

but you.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Written a couple of years ago, but no one will do …

Art by William Oxer

 
4 Comments

Posted by on February 26, 2021 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Any other

It began like any other game.

She had read his words. The heady mix of romance, ropes and respect.  Of dominance, decadence and desire. Of longing, lust and leather.  Of sex, service and submission.  Of poetry, pain and pleasure.

It was an attractive, compelling and perhaps dangerous drug.

Yet she knew she could handle it.  The geographic distance would keep her safe.  The lack of a physical connection would be an antidote to its power.  The absence of the carnal would diminish its dominion.

She placed the collar about her throat.  She could feel the urgent pulse in her neck whispering a warning. She smiled bravely into the eye of the camera.

She could control it.

But now she aches.  A deep, persistent hunger that cannot be satisfied by fingers or phallus.

The geographic distance has become her prison, the lack of physical connection is her torturer, the absence of the carnal is the rack upon which her yearning body is stretched day and night.  She wants him.

She will do everything he instructs, and more. Always more.  Yet it will never be enough.  Not for her.

It began like any other addiction,

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

I found this in my considerable pile of writings while looking for something else. It feels as relevant as the day it was written.

Painting by William Oxer

 
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Posted by on February 25, 2021 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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Between my lines

art-by-francine-hove

 

I wonder

if you can feel

the ache in my words

the desire in my sentences

the sex in my poetry.

 

I wonder

if you can feel

the you

between my lines.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not newly written. But can you feel it?

Art by Francine van Hove

 
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Posted by on February 24, 2021 in D/s, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Only adores …

 

He admires

beauty

respects

intelligence

is warmed

by wit

is thrilled

by sensuality

but only adores

what he owns.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by William Oxer

 
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Posted by on February 22, 2021 in D/s, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Against my skin

 

On coal-black nights

like these

when only desire

burns bright

I wish I knew

a secret spell

to summon you

sensual

silk

smooth

and soft

against my skin.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

There are always such nights

Art by William Oxer

 

 
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Posted by on February 21, 2021 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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I am not an artist

 

I am not an artist.

I have not the talent

the commitment

the creativity

or the eye.

 

I am not an artist

but I will paint

your beauty

and body

in words

so you can read

how much

I adore you.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not brand new. But true.

Art by William Oxer

 
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Posted by on February 19, 2021 in D/s, Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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Compliment

 

When I say

just an everyday

glimpse of you

draws such dark

decadent

dirty

delicious

delightful

pictures

in my mind

it is definitely intended

as a compliment.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Marcos Beccari

 

 
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Posted by on February 18, 2021 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Something Else

 

She is trying to think of something else.

She works, busying herself with things that usually bore her, creating her own session of displacement therapy. She fills her day so that there is no room for idle thought.

At home, she urgently flicks through magazines searching for something to steal her attention, even for a moment. She watches TV, trying to lose herself in someone else’s story. At night she closes her eyes tight shut, as if it will help.

But she cannot get the thought out of her head.

This desire to serve, this need to belong, this yearning to be his.

She has felt nothing like it before.  Not for any man, least of all this complete, dark, distant stranger.  Yet there is a familiarity about him, a certainty, a resonance. As if she has always known he would be there.

If she allows her imagination to escape it will swarm at her thighs, ache in her lower belly, and send a flush into her throat.  It will send a delicious tingling down her spine. It will conjure up a thousand images of her own submission that will make her weak at the knees.

It will make her mouth dry and her sex wet.

She is trying to think of something else.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Written eight years ago, but I like it. And perhaps there is someone trying to think of something else right now.

Art by William Oxer

 
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Posted by on February 16, 2021 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Pheromone

art-by-william-oxer

 

I can pick up

the merest trace

of your pure

submissive scent

across thousands of miles

across restless seas

across unknown geography.

 

It is such a poignant

potent

puissant

powerful

provocative

persuasive

perfect

pheromone

I am utterly compelled.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

I wrote this several years ago. ‘I can pick up the merest trace ….’

Art by William Oxer

 
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Posted by on February 15, 2021 in D/s, Poetry, Still Life

 

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