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Category Archives: D/s

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

Art by William Oxer

 
4 Comments

Posted by on February 14, 2019 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Dilemma

image-by-jessica-heller

 

I can never decide

whether I prefer rescuing

the scantily clad

tightly bound

damsel in distress

from the railway tracks

or being the wicked villain

who tied her there.

 

The truth is probably

a little of both.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

I wrote this a couple of years ago.  Always my dilemma.

Photography found on Flickr © Jessica Heller

 
6 Comments

Posted by on February 3, 2019 in D/s, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Exchange

Art by Mark Spain

 

I will give you

roses without thorns,

certainty without caveats,

adoration without qualification,

admiration without limit

in exchange

for every gorgeous

wondrous inch

of you.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

I wrote this three years ago. It is perhaps a hymn of my dark religion

Art by Mark Spain

 
6 Comments

Posted by on January 29, 2019 in D/s, Poetry, Still Life

 

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No compromise

art-by-loui-jover

 

I adore your beauty.

it is pure, eloquent, exquisite.

.

I adore your body.

it is rare, elegant, immaculate.

.

I adore your mind.

It is sharp, creative, intelligent.

.

I adore you utterly.

.

But there will never be

any compromise

in my control

my direction

or my discipline.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Posted before, but always true

Art by Loui Jover

 
7 Comments

Posted by on January 27, 2019 in D/s, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Butterfly emerging

 

I have always been drawn to innocence

The girl who has never explored the longing, the yearning, the ache. The woman who has never allowed her desires to surface. The girl has never articulated the wanting within. The woman who has never let her caged animal escape.

She might be alone or partnered. She could be eighteen or fifty. She might be a mother, a student, a captain of industry, a writer, an artist, an everyday goddess, or perhaps all of these things.

But she will be a virgin to sexual submission

And I know there are those that might accuse me of wishing to take innocence and corrupt it, manipulate it or use it. I cannot deny the possibility that there might be such elements in my actions. We are complex creatures, we humans, and there is seldom only one single motivation.

Yet I know that the desire to teach, to instruct, to motivate, to mentor, to guide and to protect is at the very heart of my attraction towards the wide-eyed, the inexperienced, and those seeking something more.

And ultimately there is nothing more arousing, more moving, more gratifying, more lovely, more intense than watching a beautiful, exotic, sensual, erotically empowered butterfly emerging from the cramped chrysalis of her long hidden sexual submission.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not a new post. Yet such emergence is beautiful.

Art by Emilia Wilk

 
4 Comments

Posted by on January 26, 2019 in D/s, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Desk

 

I write at my desk.

It is built from ancient reclaimed oak. The wood is scarred and worn and darkened with age. It was crafted and constructed to especially to fill a space in my study. It is beautifully built, sturdy and strong. It is completely in keeping with this 400 year old cottage with its thick ironstone walls and huge beams, its large inglenook fireplace, and its mullioned windows with leaded glass.

I write at my desk.

Novels, short stories, poetry, random prose, blog posts, tweets, e-mails. And much else besides. I usually tap the words out on a wireless keyboard. Sometimes I use my beloved Mont Blanc fountain pen filled with midnight blue ink. Less often than I would like. Technology is far more accommodating of revision and mistakes.

I write at my desk.

Here I allow my memory to recover the fragments of the past that touch me still. Here I let yesterday and today kiss my words with immediacy, desire, wonder and delight. Here I write of lovers and strangers, dancers and shadows, family and friends. Always safe in anonymity.

I write at my desk.

And often, I admit, I think of you.

I imagine you here, your scent fragile in the air, the cool of your fingertips, the heat of your body. I undress you. Slowly. Reverently. Tenderly. Time standing still.

I bend you over the smooth wood. I make it an altar on which to worship you. A table on which to spread you. A sacred raised dias on which to adore you.

I close my eyes, lost in the thought of your sighs, your movement, and your pure skin against seasoned grain.

I write at my desk.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not newly written but the desk is always here.

Art by Fabian Perez

 
10 Comments

Posted by on January 25, 2019 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Odyssey

 

I have travelled

through myth and legend

fantasy and mystery

storm and rain

sun and shadow

beauty and tears

sex and darkness

to find you

to explore you

to own you

eyes and mouth

hair and throat

breasts and hips

arse and legs

belly and thighs

submissive soul

and clever mind.

You are my odyssey.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Hamish Blakely

 

 

 
4 Comments

Posted by on January 24, 2019 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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