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International Women’s day and sexual D/s

 

Some might have been surprised by my tweet on Twitter earlier today.

Perhaps for a number of readers it might seem an unusual, even an unlikely thing, for a man who is ‘hard wired’ to sexually dominate, control and ‘own’ women to write like this. I shall explain in a moment.

But first of all, why do I find women so incredible?

Basically, because no matter how badly, unfairly, carelessly, cruelly, immorally, and disrespectfully we men have treated women down the centuries, women have not bowed to brutality, persecution, discrimination, patronization, and thoughtlessness. Even when today – even in the ridiculously called ‘first’ world – the situation is still oppressive.

  • The major religions all denigrate, marginalize, and subjugate women to a lesser or greater extent.
  • Pay levels across the globe have been kept universally lower for women. (Even in ‘enlightened’ Hollywood male actors still earn more)
  • Men still occupy the majority of key and middle positions in government and business. There is no real equality of opportunity.
  • Sexual crimes, harassment, intimidation, and sexually inappropriate behavior are still institutional almost everywhere. The previous President of the United States (Trump) is a clear example of it. There is still a belief among many men (and sadly some women) that rape can be justified or excused. It can never be under any circumstances. See here.
  • Men are often allowed to walk away from the physical (and often financial) responsibility of fatherhood, expecting women to rear children. And regardless of whether the man is there or not, the woman is still often expected to take on the majority of childcare, running the house, and go to work.
  • Even in the USA in around half the states there is no legal limitation on the minimum age of the bride.

I could go on. Forever. Some things maybe are better now than they were once. But it is truly miserable. And the pace of change is glacial.

But despite everything women have bravely battled and fought, and are still doing so. And they are proving, at last that, if there is a more resourceful, adaptable, intelligent and braver sex – then women are it. Because to succeed in living fulfilling and happy lives in such a misogynist and hostile environment takes far more than most men will ever give credit, or even attempt to understand.

And where does D/s – as it relates to me – sit in all of this?

It has very little to do with it.

Sexual D/s is a consensual act or agreement between two people where one gives up their sexual free will to the other. The reason they do this is because it arouses, excites and completes them. It is the way they both are. Of course a Dominant or a submissive can be a man or a woman and vice versa.

But if there is one thing about D/s that does relate to all I have said in this post, then it is this. If any male Dominant thinks he is somehow above, more important or better than his female submissive then he really needs to take a long hard look at himself.

Because he has clearly lost the plot.

And proved my point.

Women are more than equal to men.

.

.

I wrote this, and the tweet, four years ago. I re-post both today. Much has happened in the last twelve months, and perhaps the tide is turning. But it is a massive ocean that needs to change.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art from UN International Women’s Day promotional material 2017

 

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My doctor has examined me

Type = ArtScans RGB : Gamma = 2.000

 

My doctor has examined me

He is man of great learning and deep understanding.

He is old and wise, and certificates on his wall attest to his vast and eclectic knowledge. Anatomy, psychiatry, psychology, neurology. Surgery, geometry, chemistry, philately, campanology.

He took deep soundings from my pulse. He listened carefully to my heart. He examined my body with clever hands, the strength of my muscles, the structure of my bones, the conductivity of my nerves, the light in my eyes. He considered tendons, ligaments, cartilage.

He had me listen to indistinct sounds. He made me recall half-forgotten scents.  He insisted I recite my darkest poetry.

He made my reflexes dance

He asked me questions, recovered my dreams, investigated my hopes, pondered over my expectations. Asked pointedly about my exercise. And my patterns of sleep.

He explored my diet, my sexual inclinations, my sensual desires.  My abuse of tea. And alcohol.

When he was done he sat me down and faced me. His brow was furrowed, his mouth severe. His chin was set firm. He was serious in his approach. He was careful in his diagnosis.

He shook his head sorrowfully, and with his fat fountain pen wrote slowly upon his pad. He solemnly handed me the page.

My doctor has examined me

He is a man of considerable reputation. I trust him completely.

My doctor has examined me.

My doctor knows what ails me. He knows what has laid me low.

He is certain of the only thing that can make me well. His recommendation is precise and unequivocal.

My doctor has prescribed me you.

It is a repeat prescription.

Of unlimited dose

To be taken as often

as I require.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

I wrote this five years ago. But It made me chuckle so much as I penned it back then, I have decided to post again now.

Art by Fabian Perez

 
 

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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.

.

.

© 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.

.

.

© 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.

.

.

© 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

 
5 Comments

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.

.

.

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

 
8 Comments

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.

.

.

© 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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