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Category Archives: Erotica

Every pore

 

I will not stop

exploring you

until I have counted

every single pore

of your perfect skin.

 

And then counted

them all

once more

over and over

and over again.

 

Just to ensure

I do not miss

a single one.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not a new post. But worth counting.

Art by Victoria Selbach

 
6 Comments

Posted by on March 24, 2021 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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Command Performance

 

 

He wants

to make her body sing

to train her

to direct her

to conduct her

to control her.

 

He wants

to make her body sing

to be his chanteuse

to be his nightingale

to be his diva

to be his leading lady soprano

pouring out her soul

 

He wants

to make her body sing

and sigh

and dance

and glide

and twist

and writhe

and shiver

and sway

and fill his stage

with her perfect submission

a command performance

only for him.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

This post is four years old – but a command performance is always special.

Art by Laszio Gulyas

 
8 Comments

Posted by on March 23, 2021 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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Drawn

 

I am drawn to you

Like iron to a magnet. Like bee to honey. Like moth to flame. Like vampire to blood.

I feel your pull, I catch your scent, I am drawn to your heat.

I am the wolf whose eyes are full of moon.

My pen writes your name.

My guitar sings your song.

My poetry bleeds for you.

I am captivated, enchanted, enraptured, bewitched, fascinated.

I am utterly enthralled by you.

I am drawn to you

Endlessly.

As you are

to me.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not brand new. But sometimes one is drawn.

Art by William Oxer

 

 
2 Comments

Posted by on March 22, 2021 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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More than I could bear

 

The church bells are ringing.

Tuesday is practice night for the faithful and unfaithful campanologists. The peal is uneven, discordant and untidy. A novice is hauling the rope. The sound disturbs the silence. The evenings are usually so quiet here.

I sip my wine. It is nothing special. A syrah grape without provenance, but it fills my mouth with blackberry, and pepper, and smoke. And summer. And memories of her.

She was far too young for me. A child when measured against my grey hair and dark experience. And yet she touched me in a way that few have ever done.

She was lithe and slender and had eyes that saw beyond the obvious, She was as sharp as a glass shard and far cleverer than she realised. Her demeanour was a mixture of swagger and vulnerability. She had the face of a model and the bewitching smile of a girl. She pretended that she was five foot six, but she wasn’t. Her legs were breathtaking, her breasts spectacular on such a petite frame.

She was as heavenly as sin.

She gave herself to me with poetic solemnity and a glorious sense of drama. In retrospect, I think she meant it. She lived for the moment and, just then, with her head bowed, I was the moment.

I am a master of discipline, manipulation and control. But I’m not sure I could ever have tamed her.

She was a wild and wayward spirit.

I don’t know what has made me think of her. Perhaps the confusion of bells, the wine in my mouth, spring rising, the overwhelming certainty that evening is descending on me fast these days.

We drifted apart.

I am glad we did.

She would have only disappointed me.

And that would have hurt her.

More than I could bear.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

I found this as I wandered through my writing the other day. It brought back memories.

Art by Thomas Saliot

 

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Can you feel?

 

Can you feel

my eyes

on your body

like a caress

my desire

touching your skin

like a thousand

kisses?

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by William Oxer

 
6 Comments

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

 

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Symbiotic

 

It is beyond compatibility.

.

She is made safe by his control, made secure by his discipline, made confident by his admiration.

She is aroused by his desire, consumed by his instruction, inflamed by his respect.

She is awed by his domination, excited by his authority, enchanted by his poetry.

.

He is honored by her beauty,  enthralled by her sensuality, thrilled by her curves,

He is delighted beyond words by her complete and unquestioning submission.

Her body is his kingdom

.

She is proud to be his slave.

 

It is beyond compatibility.

It is perfectly symbiotic

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

An ancient post unearthed

Art by William Oxer

 
4 Comments

Posted by on March 17, 2021 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Click

 

She knows his profile by heart.

She knows each carefully crafted word. She has considered every subtle nuance. She has speculated over any real or imagined hidden meaning. She has painted his image in her mind from the palette of his six-sentence self-description.

She places her hands over her eyes, feeling her palms cool on her burning face..

The fantasy has been with her for as long as she can remember. Sometimes it has lain quiet in the cage she has constructed, curled up like a black-as-night wild cat, sleek and inky, muscular and lean. Other times she has felt it stir, aroused by a word, or an image, or a conversation. Or the unmistakable timbre of command in a stranger’s voice.

Its power makes her catch her breath.

And then there are the times when it becomes hungry. It fills her mind with its presence, it gnaws at her throat, claws at her lower belly, and makes her ache between her thighs.

It is prowling now. She is almost deafened by her own heartbeat drumming in her ears, can hear the noisy rushing of her blood through her arteries and veins, knows her imagination is making her wet. Yet her mouth is dry.

She always believed that she could contain it, repress it, restrain it. That it was her own secret fantasy, her eternal longing, her deep, delicious, dangerous desire. She always believed that her deep, dark, unholy need was forever incarcerated inside herself.

And yet this man …

She stares again at the screen. It fills her room with a pale, bluish, ghostly light. She feels possessed.

A simple click will make contact

Her trembling finger hovers over the keyboard.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

I am compiling a collection of work from my past. I found this from some years ago. It may have resonance.

Art by William Oxer

 

 

 
2 Comments

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

 

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As he will

Art by Fabian Perez

She barely understands it.

It is a desire to serve.

A hunger to yield, to bend, to give, to allow herself to be controlled.

A need to submit, To comply, to assent, to acquiesce.  It is an itch, an ache, a yearning.

She is compelled by some deep inner want, some unfathomable need. some almost primal desire to yield up her submission.

To render up all her power.

She has craved such wondrous, glorious authority over her for as long as she can remember. Before the budding of her breasts, before the flow of blood, before passion, before the longing between her thighs.

Yet it could never be anyone.  It had to be him.  It always had to be him.

She has waited forever for his presence. For his strength, his certainty, his discipline, his protection.

For him to do with her as he will.

Mind, body and soul.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Fabian Perez

I wrote this a good few years ago.  Yet it has always been true. For a submissive soul.

 
 

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Imagine me

 

 

Imagine me

watching you

as you dress

and undress.

Imagine me

adoring you

every

single

inch.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by William Oxer

 
2 Comments

Posted by on March 12, 2021 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Saying your name

 

I keep saying

your name

over and over

because I adore

the taste of you

on my lips,

the feel of you

in my mouth,

the shape of you

on my tongue.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Written a couple of years ago. But there is a name that has to be said, over and over.

Art by William Oxer

 
2 Comments

Posted by on March 7, 2021 in Erotica, Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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