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Category Archives: D/s

Shiver

Art by Yanjun Cheng

A shiver.

A delicious, electric, thrilling shiver.

An ice hot sensation rushing from the nape of her neck to the base of her spine.

It hurries to her throat and steals her breath.

It colours her skin with a sudden, rosy, tell-tale blush.

It hardens her nipples as if touched by a kiss

It dances wild across her belly and hips.

It makes her gasp as it tugs at her thighs

It penetrates her sex.

A shiver

Running down her spine

Coming from him.

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© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Yanjun Cheng

A post from six years ago. Yet hopefully it resonates.

 
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Posted by on July 1, 2020 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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But will you?

 

I have been as guilty of it as anyone.

But much less so these days.  Now the shadows are lengthening.

Because there is but one life.  There is no heaven in which to smugly contemplate relentless eternity. There is no hell to somehow face greater suffering. There are no seventy two virgins with legs spread wide. There is no reincarnation as a deer, or a fox, or someone somehow better.

There is only now.

The years which seemed to stretch out endlessly when we are soft and still to be moulded, constantly gather momentum. Like water rushing out of the basin. Like sand escaping the narrowing hourglass.  Life is so short. Time is so precious.

And yet we waste it.  We procrastinate.  We dither. We make excuses. We pretend to be something we are not rather than act upon who we are. We pretend we are looking for perfection as if it really exists. We fear to make mistakes and instead we do nothing.  We hold ourselves back, saving our hearts, bodies and souls for someday, some person, some event that may never be. Our days pass by with nothing to mark them but the calendar. We always think that there is still tomorrow …

I know I will eventually end my days regretting the women, the times, the joys (and even the sorrows) I did not have far more than I will regret those I had*.

I once told Beauty that Life is not a Rehearsal.

She did not listen.

But will you?

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* I am certain this thought is stolen from elsewhere, so please do forgive the plagiarism

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© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Another unearthing from my archive. Always relevant.

Art by William Oxer

 
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Posted by on June 30, 2020 in D/s, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Slow surrender

 

She is innocent.

Her bold beauty is barely blemished. Her gorgeous body is almost untouched by another’s breath. The gentle pages of her heart are yet to be written.  Her hunger is new and urgent. She longs for something she has yet to discover.
She has purity in her soul.

He is darkness.

He has loved and won and lost his way through enough joy and sorrow to fill the night. He has coaxed forth endless sweet fantasies, elegantly bestowed a thousand decadent pleasures, administered such breathtaking, delicious torture.
His eyes have seen far beyond the shadows.

Yet there is an ache that binds them. A primaeval yearning that sets them apart from all others.

He will sanctify her slow surrender and make them both holy.

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© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

More delving in my archives. I like this one.

Art by William Oxer

 

 
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Posted by on June 29, 2020 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Mirror

 

She stands before the mirror.

Her reflection is the same and yet she knows something inside herself has changed.  She had expected to see the evidence in the face of the slightly pensive woman staring back at her, but there is none.  Except perhaps a slight blush in her usually pale cheeks.

She raises her chin and flicks her long black hair over her shoulders.  She is aware of a pulse dancing beneath the skin of her throat.  The room is as silent as a church.  She feels holy and profane at the same time. She feels like she did her first day at school.  Excited and afraid, and slightly awed, all at once.

She unties her gown, opens it and lets it fall from her shoulders.  As it glides to the floor it brushes her skin like a soft caress .  She is wearing nothing beneath.

She is not ashamed of her body and yet, even though she is completely alone, she has never felt so exposed.  She interlocks her fingers behind her back and places her feet a shoulders width apart as he has instructed.

It as if she has undressed for him.  In front of him. And yet he is not there.  He cannot see her.  There is no camera running. There are no stills to be taken.  He has simply told her to do this.  He wants no proof that she has complied.

As the allotted minutes tick away she becomes aware that her breathing has quickened.  She can hear the blood pumping steadily through her veins.  Her nipples have hardened and there is a slight but definite ache in her lower belly.  Her mouth is dry.  She knows she is wet.

She has no idea why she has become so aroused.

 

 

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Another rather old post of mine that perhaps deserves to be reposted

Photo discovered on a website without reference to the owner. If it is yours please let me know so I can credit or remove

 
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Posted by on June 27, 2020 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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There are days when I want you

 

There are days when I want you.

 

From the storm of hair on your gorgeous head to your beautiful face.

From the eloquence of your eyes to the sensuality of your mouth.

From the elegance of your throat, to your neck, to your collarbones, to your shoulders, to your arms.

From the heaven of your breasts, to the wondrous curves of your waist and back and hips and arse.

From the paradise of your thighs, and the shapely splendour of your legs.

To your pretty toes.

 

There are days when I want you.

 

In truth, there are never days when I do not.

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© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by William Oxer

 

 

 
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Posted by on June 26, 2020 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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The show has begun

 

She is shy.  She has never done anything like this before.

She has rehearsed it so often that the music has become a soundtrack to these last few nervous days.  It plays in her mind from the moment sleep releases her until she slides back into its arms. Perhaps it echoes through her dreams. She knows every persistent drumbeat, every smooth chord, every deep bass note, every sweet moan of hungry, dirty brass.  She has her timings to the second.

She has tried to imagine this moment, tried to prepare herself for how she would feel.

Now, standing before the video camera, she realises that she could never have readied herself.  Not for this intimate moment, her hushed room, this distant audience of one.  Her mouth is dry, her heartbeat is wild and loud, her legs are weak.  She is finding it hard to breathe.

She smooths her hands down her dress.  They slide over her waist and onto her hips.  She is desperately nervous. She is blushingly embarrassed.  She is impossibly excited.

She is achingly aroused.

She presses a button on the slim, black remote and the music begins.  The first notes are soothingly familiar and disturbingly erotic.

Despite herself, she begins to sway into her routine. She feels her hips move.   As if by magic her body becomes lithe and sinuous.  She is seductive, sexy, sensuous.

She knows he will watch her.  Again and again.

Her hands glide over her breasts, caressing herself. Her fingers reach behind for the metal tongue of the zipper.

The show has begun.

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© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

For various reasons, I have been sifting through my past writings. I discovered this one, and it made me smile. I thought new readers might like it.

Art by William Oxer

 

 
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Posted by on June 24, 2020 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Lost causes

Art by Gianni Bellini

I am not a man for lost causes.

Indeed I will barely even give chase.

I am not a hunter, a predator, a stalker.

I will not pursue relentlessly. I will not track hungrily. I will not chase regardless.

I will not follow that which has no desire to be caught.

I will not pen midnight poems to attract you, I will not write erotic fantasies to tempt you, I will not create dark, dangerous, delicious scenarios to seduce you.

No matter your sharp intelligence, your eloquent creativity, your breathtaking beauty, your sensual body, your sweet personality, your divine, submissive soul.

I am too proud, too arrogant, too aloof.

And most of all, too afraid of rejection.

I am not a man for lost causes.

But for you, rare, exotic, gorgeous creature

I might just make an exception.

.

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© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Gianni Bellini

It is hard to believe I originally wrote this five years ago. Still true.

 
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Posted by on June 23, 2020 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Solstice

Art by Trudy Good

I am almost always in control.

Of another, of course, but particularly of myself.

But tonight with the summer solstice girdling the evening with magic, and with a wild, apocalyptic moon building herself in the heavens, I am partially undone.

I pace the humid, velvet, fantasy-rich night with light, hungry, tireless footsteps.

Prowling. Circling. Rattling this invisible chain that tethers me.

I am taut, stretched, urgent. I am savage, romantic, decadent. I am poetic, dangerous, sensual.

I close my eyes and allow the rush of her body to sweep over me, exciting my imagination. Her hips, her thighs, her belly, her breasts. The sweet hollow of her throat. The sacred mound of her sex.

The delicate silk of her hair trailing against my skin. The feel of her gorgeous curves beneath my fingers, against my lips, beneath my tongue.

Her scent filling my mouth.

The certainty of leather restraints upon her elegant ankles and wrists. The circle of a collar about her neck.

I am almost always in control.

But tonight I could roar with this aching, yearning, delicious desire.

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© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Trudy Good

It would seem a good time to resurrect this old post of mine.

 
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Posted by on June 21, 2020 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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In wait

 

Sun on my skin

eyes closed

birds singing

insects humming

breeze whispering

and my restless

hungry

Dominant soul

waiting

for you.

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© the author writing as Romantic Dominant.

Written a year ago. But in wait …

Art by William Oxer

 
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Posted by on June 19, 2020 in D/s, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Incendiary

Photo by Mark Velasquez

How can one define attraction?

I look at you and I am entranced.

A beautiful face. A gorgeous body.

A clever, creative, independent mind.

A generous heart. A submissive sexual soul.

I do not know if the rest of the world sees you as I see you.

I do not care.

To me, you are so incendiary

you could burn your way

out of Hell

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© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Photo by Mark Velasquez. Model is Ashley Amarillas

I posted this some years ago. I can still be set on fire.

 
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Posted by on June 16, 2020 in D/s, Poetry, Still Life

 

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