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Me – the ‘small print’

 

I wrote this three years ago. Since then I have gained new followers, and some may have missed it. I would hate readers to be under any illusions about the man and writer behind Romantic Dominant.

 

Some followers on WordPress and Twitter are surprised and disappointed when I express political or general opinions, outside of what they ‘expect’ from me. A number unfollowed me today after my recent tweet mocking the ludicrous idea that more guns make for a safer society.

Rather than you all unfollow me in an untidy fashion as you realise that I am not quite what you expected, I have decided to post this ‘small print’ about me, so all those who wish to take offence at my beliefs can disappear at once. I am certain there is something in here to upset most people but I do feel obliged to come clean about the man behind the writer.

I am white, male, English and middle-aged.
I am a socialist.
I am an atheist.
I am not poor (or particularly rich) by UK standards, and certainly not poor by world standards.
I would rather live in a poor, caring, fair society than a rich, uncaring, unfair one.
I believe all lives, whoever, wherever, are equal.
I believe all human beings have a right to food, water, and shelter
I believe we are all responsible for the safety and well-being of the children of the world.
I abhor discrimination by race, country of origin, sex (in the widest possible sense), age, religion (even though I am an atheist) and I abhor discrimination due to (lack of) wealth or education.
I abhor misogyny and the oppression and abuse of women in all societies
I abhor discrimination against those who face mental or physical challenges, or who are simply not like the ‘norm’.
I believe it is totally unacceptable that 1% of the world’s population own 50% of the world’s wealth, and that the gap between rich and poor globally is widening.
I think capitalism without morality has failed the majority
I hate the cult of money, and also the cult of celebrity.
I despise fervent nationalism or tribalism because it seldom leads to good outcomes. Flags should be reserved for sporting events.

There is probably more, but I am as bored with writing this as you probably are with reading it. Those who have decided to leave have probably left. There is more about me here and here if you can be bothered.

Please exit quietly. Hopefully some will remain.

.

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© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Fabian Perez

 
18 Comments

Posted by on February 17, 2021 in politics, Still Life, Uncategorized

 

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Delight

 

Nothing

gives me more

sexual

erotic

delight

than a shy

and innocent

submissive

neophyte.

.

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© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by William Oxer

 
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Posted by on January 11, 2021 in Uncategorized

 

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Never so aware

art-by-paul-kelley

 

She has never

been so aware

of her body

within her clothes,

the way the material

kisses and caresses

grazes and brushes

smooths and strokes.

 

She has never

been so aware

of her body

within her clothes,

and to the new

sexual sensitivity

of her skin

to their touch.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

I wrote and posted this some years ago. Has she ever been so aware?

Art by Paul Kelley

 
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Posted by on December 23, 2020 in Uncategorized

 

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Winter solstice

 

He thinks about her.

He is sipping red wine. It fills his mouth with grape and his heart with hope.  Outside it is still raining.

Earlier he had walked the hounds in a brief respite from the deluge.  There had been a delayed monsoon waiting in the dying-leaved trees.

A hidden sun had set invisibly over his grey, sodden, dripping village before four o’clock. The afternoon had been swallowed up by night without a whimper

It is the shortest day.

He lives by the seasons and can already feel the change. The days will lengthen from now. It is a clean, beckoning, hungry new page.

He will write her name on it.

He does not know who she is. And yet he already senses her presence in his life.

He cannot be sure if they have yet made contact, chased shadows, crossed borders, traded smiles, touched hands, exchanged truths, offered up words, or painted pictures on a blank canvas.

He is unable to tell if they are already gently familiar or are completely unconnected strangers.

Yet he is certain, at this change of the solstice, that she is there.  For him.

So he takes another sip and leans back into the soft, comfortable leather of his chair.

He can almost smell her scent on his fingers.

.

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© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

I was certain I had posted a short piece some time ago inspired by the winter solstice which, in the northern hemisphere, was yesterday. I looked for it a few years back and I eventually found it under the title ‘Her scent’. I had actually written it in 2012. Time flies.

Much has changed since then. Sadly both of the hounds mentioned in the piece have died. The village has been swapped for an even smaller one. And I left behind a business life some time ago to focus on my writing (a success) and do other things.

But the words seem to capture the day and the time. So I have posted last year and the two years before, with a new title to celebrate the day. But with the same art. I think it meant something to me at the time. I do believe posting it has become a Winter Solstice tradition.

Art by Thomas Saliot

 
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Posted by on December 22, 2020 in Uncategorized

 

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Tale of a Dominant – Part Two

 

The candle has burnt down low.

The bar is close to empty. It is late. The waitress is hovering near the table with the bill, He motions to her with a raised eyebrow and a smile. She places l’addition on a white saucer with two small squares of gold-wrapped chocolate.

The girl opposite him runs her hands through her long black hair and stretches back in her chair. It is almost provocative.

His eyes flick over her body appreciatively and return to her face. He stares into her eyes. She doesn’t look away. They are both more than a little drunk.

She feels she knows everything about him. He has answered her questions all evening. About his lovers, About D/s, his rules, the cities and the hotel suites, the romance, the shadows and the dancers. His briefcase full of ropes and bindings, toys and instruments. The reasons behind it all. His adoration, his admiration, and his love of women. Of some women in particular.

She has captured his velvet voice on her recorder.

And yet, although he has been the one telling his story, she feels as if it is her soul that has been stripped bare.

He punches the PIN into the card machine with long slender fingers, and it is time to go. He hands her both of the chocolates. She slips them into her bag. She knows they are destined to sit uneaten on her dressing table forever.

Much later that night, with the dawn creeping softly over the silent sea, she slips naked from his bed. She is careful not to wake him. In the pale light she re-reads the note he gave her, written in his distinctive hand, in dark midnight-blue ink.

I remember them all.

The beauties, the heroines, the angels. The wide-eyed girls in their best party frocks. The bold but trembling women in their gorgeous. silk gowns.

The waifs and the strays. The wild and the hungry. The creative and the eloquent. The sacred and the profane.

Tiger Cub, Rebecca, Jenny, Beauty, Angel, Hermosa, Lindsay, and the rest. The sweet submissives who have perfumed my nights and made wonderful my days.

I remember them all.

You are the last.

It is the end.

.

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Part One

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

But is it/was it the end?

Art by Fabian Perez

 
6 Comments

Posted by on October 6, 2020 in D/s, Erotica, Lovers Past, Uncategorized

 

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If we touch

 

If we touch

across the miles

however softly

however gently

the echo

of the moment

and the ripple

on the surface

will take forever

to fade.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Ralf Heynen

 
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Posted by on September 21, 2020 in Uncategorized

 

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The nature of it

 

 

It is the nature

of his dark

D/s religion.

 

His to direct

hers to serve.

 

His to teach

hers to learn.

 

His to own

hers to belong.

 

Theirs to adore

and be adored.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Posted before, but always true.

Art by Antonio Macedo

 
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Posted by on September 17, 2020 in Uncategorized

 

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Incitement to rape?

a99278_sexual-assault_4

I have published this post four times before, but it feels like a good time to post it again.

 

First posted September 1st 2015

Sometimes I get serious

It seems an ageing female rock star recently suggested in an interview with one of our sad excuses for a serious newspaper that women/girls who dress provocatively should expect to be molested – or worse – by men.

I can only believe she was misquoted – I haven’t read the article so I will give her the benefit of the doubt.

But let me be quite clear.

What a woman or girl wears is entirely her business. It can be sexy and revealing. It can be wild and kinky, It can be ‘slutty’ and sultry. It doesn’t matter. It is entirely her choice. It is her choice to make without fear of harassment, without threat of misogyny, without the danger of some sad prick believing it justifies any attention at all beyond silent admiration.

How a woman acts is equally up to her. If she wants to be a vamp. a princess, a tease, or a kitten she can. If she wants to get, drunk, stoned, utterly out of her mind it isn’t a cry for some mindless moron to take advantage of her, or see it as a come-on, or as an excuse to say she has got it coming to her.

So if you are a man who has so little control of himself that he thinks every scantily clad girl acting outrageously gives him the right to force himself on her, then I would suggest chemical castration is probably too good for you.

And if you are a woman who looks down your nose at someone of your own sex who exercises the freedom to be herself, or thinks that girls bring it on themselves, then all you are doing is colluding with the apes.

In a case of rape (or sexual assault) the woman or girl is never, ever at fault.  Even if she changes her mind at the very last minute, that is her prerogative, her choice, her right.  If a man ‘cannot stop himself’ then he is no more than an animal and deserves to be treated like one.

There is never, repeat never, any justification for rape or any form of harassment, nor can any action by a woman ever be considered as incitement.

 

At some point I shall give my perspective on those who bleat and argue that ‘immodesty among women is against our religion, or is not part of our culture’. Attacking that misogynist, hypocritical, bullying shit deserves a whole post to itself.

.

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© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Photo taken from Pinterest. Unsure of source. If it is yours please let me know and I will remove or credit.

 
 

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My Life is Going On – La Casa de Papel

 

It is an age since I have shared music.

But actually this time I am sharing it with a TV recommendation, which is unusual for me.

If you have not been watching La Casa de Papel (Money Heist) then you are missing what I believe is one of the best thriller series for ages. For me, it is one of the best I have seen in my life. It has absolutely everything. It is a compelling drama, exciting, intelligent, emotional, unpredictable, fun, sexy, anti-establishment and completely addictive. It is directed by the talented Alex Pina. I have just started on what I believe is the final series (Series Four). I dread reaching the end.

Do give it a go if it sounds like your kind of thing. Watch it from the first series – you can’t dive in later on. It is on Netflix. But please watch it in the original Spanish (lovely language) with subtitles, not overdubbed. There is nothing worse, or more stupid, than overdubbing.

Back to the music. It was composed by Manel Santisteban, and the words were written by Cecilia Krull. I don’t know if it is a great piece of music or not.

But I now find it as addictive as the series.

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This blog post © the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Music and video from the Netflix series La Casa de Papel (Money Heist)

 

My Life Is Going On

If I’m stayin’ with you, if I’m choosing wrong
I don’t care at all
If I’m losing now, but I’m winning late
That’s all I want
I don’t care at all
I am lost
I don’t care at all
I am lost
Now we need some space, ’cause I feel for you
And I wanna change
Growing up alone, it seems so short
I can’t explain
Whatever happens in the future, trust in destiny
Don’t try to make anything else even when you feel
I don’t care at all
I am lost
I don’t care at all
Lost my time, my life, it’s going on
I will be so strong, looking for a new version of myself
‘Cause now all I want is to be a part of my new world
Whatever happens in the future, trust in destiny
Don’t try to make anything else even when you feel
I don’t care at all
I am lost
I don’t care at all
I am lost
Why not have it all?
I am lost
Lost my time, my life it’s going on
 
22 Comments

Posted by on June 15, 2020 in Music, Poetry, Uncategorized

 

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Dinner Party conversation

 

I do not eat meat and have not done so for thirty years.

I am not evangelical about it. Other people’s diets are their own affair. And whilst the damage to the planet through meat consumption is deeply disturbing, my own consumption of fish and seafood generally does not provide me with any moral high ground on that score.

But one recurring dinner party conversation I have had over the years with those who like to eat meat has always puzzled me. It goes like this:

Other : (upon deducing that I don’t eat meat) So you don’t eat meat?

Self : No.

Other : That just means red meat, or white meat too?

Self : I eat no meat at all.

Other : But you eat fish?

Self : I love to eat fish. All seafood in fact. Except sea-living mammals.

Other : Some might consider fish to be meat. But anyway, you used to meat once upon a time?

Self : Yes. Lots of it. Anything with a pulse. 

Other : So why did you stop?

At this point I explain that it was for a number of reasons, all and none of which are the primary reason – heath and family history, ethics, environment, animal welfare, etc.

Other : OK (nodding, and then a pause). But you still eat fish.

Self : Yes

Other : You have to admit that is pretty arbitrary

Self : What is?

Other : Well, eating fish and not eating meat. How do you make that distinction?

Self : Between warm-blooded and cold-blooded, I suppose.

Other : Ha! That is really arbitrary.

Self : (smiling) No more than your eating choices when it comes to living creatures.

Other : What do you mean?

Self : You eat cow, and pig, and sheep and chicken I suppose.

Other : Indeed

Self : Duck, rabbit …

Other : Not so keen on rabbit, but its fine.

Self : Horse?

Other : (Looks askance) No

Self : Donkey?

Other : People don’t eat those

Self : I am sure they do somewhere. What about dog, or cat, or squirrel, or rat, or elephant, or giraffe or lion or kangaroo or ostrich, whale or dolphin or …. monkey or ….

Other : Now you are being stupid.

Self : (Shrugs). You rather aggressively suggested my line on what living creatures I eat and do not eat is arbitrary, and I would be the first to concede it has failings from numerous points of view. Vegetarians and vegans would certainly raise questions. The bottom line is I that I don’t eat mammals. The truth is I personally don’t care what you eat, or why.
But when it comes to drawing arbitrary lines. I think you draw them a lot more untidily than I do.

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© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Written a year ago. Though a regular conversation over time.

Art by Luke Martineau

 

 
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Posted by on May 10, 2020 in Still Life, Uncategorized

 

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