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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

 
24 Comments

Posted by on October 6, 2019 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Tale of a Dominant – Part One

She is perched at the bar next to him.

She crosses her legs on the high stool. He appreciates the muscle in her thigh, and the pronounced shape of her calf.

‘You don’t mind if I ask you some questions?’

They both know he will enjoy answering. It is a part of teaching. And he would like to tutor her in many ways. So he nods.

‘When did you know that you were … the way you are?’

He raises an eyebrow and smiles. ‘The way I am?’

‘You know…  … a Dominant’.  She doesn’t know why the word sounds utterly ridiculous and yet still sends a small shiver down her spine.

‘Ah. That.’  He is dismissive.

‘Are you not one?’

‘It has become such a cliché. I hate to be a cliché. That awful book … ‘

‘Fifty Shades?’

He raises his eyes and shakes his head, indicating disapproval. There is a silence. He begins to write spidery words on a single piece of paper with a fat Mont Blanc fountain pen. The ink is midnight blue. She cannot read them, although she tries.

‘Shall we just use Dominant as a label?’  She asks. Then after a few seconds. ‘After all, you do.’

There is an imperceptible shrug of his shoulders and a slight upwards curl of his lips. She takes it as assent.

‘So when did you know?’

He considers her question, his pen no longer at work.

‘I would say I always knew,’ he answers at last. ‘Certainly it has been with me for as long as I can remember. But I couldn’t define exactly what that ache was for a long time.’
He pauses.   ‘I have always adored women. Worshipped them. The female form has always thrilled me. And the feminine mind.’

‘Is adoration important?’

‘Of course.’   He says it with absolute conviction. ‘It is adoration that makes me want to unwrap a woman slowly, body and soul. To explore every inch of her. To give her pleasure and pain. To have her in my power. To enjoy her completely. To possess her.

He moves his long slender hands as speaks. He is aware of her staring. He picks up his wine glass with his left hand. There is a simple wedding ring on his third finger.  It surprises her somehow. She makes a mental note to ask about it later.

‘There must have been a first? Your first D/s experience?’

He laughs. She likes the sound.  She inexplicably feels that she wants to make him laugh.

‘The very first? He asks her, raising an eyebrow,

She nods.

Then that’s easy. It was Julie. She was fourteen and lived in the house next door.

The woman is shocked and her face pales.

He gives a wicked grin.

‘She was in the same year as me, but at the girl’s school. I stripped her naked and tied her up one afternoon in her father’s garden shed. Among the power tools and the nails and screws, the lawnmower and the old paint cans. I laid her on the big wooden workbench. I seem to remember I tortured her very gently with a soft wire brush.’

The woman appears shocked but he knows she is fascinated.

‘Julie enjoyed it. It became a regular event. Until her mother caught us.’
He smiles at the memory.  ‘But she is a different story.’

There is a long silence. The words spill from the nib of his pen in dark blue, almost black ink.. She watches them materialise, unreadable, on the page.

‘Have you ever been tied?’ He asks suddenly.

The woman shakes her head and gulps a mouthful of wine. She tries to avoid his eyes, until she feels compelled to look up. They meet his and something strange happens between them.

He tightens the cap on his pen and hands her the paper.

She blushes when she reads what he has written, a hand fluttering to her throat.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

I originally wrote this in September 2013. It was an idea for a book based upon a similar true event, which I eventually never wrote. I penned and posted a short Part Two, and finished it at that point. Perhaps it would have been worth continuing ….

 
17 Comments

Posted by on October 5, 2019 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Disappointment

 

Disappointment

in others

barely

breaks my skin.

 

But disappointment

in myself

cuts me

to the bone.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Fabian Perez

 
10 Comments

Posted by on July 24, 2019 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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Something for her

LETIZIA A LA SIESTA

She wishes he would write something for her.

A fantasy of endless, velvet, star-filled skies.

Of a wild, round, luminous moon hanging like a silver lantern. Of a warm, perfumed breeze stroking her hair and tugging gently at her dress.

Of the distant strains of a yearning, lone violin fading and rising through the whispering trees.

Of his hands releasing the pale silk gown from her eloquent shoulders, and it running off her naked body like a caress and falling with a sigh at her feet.

Of her perfect, dangerous, wondrous curves laid out by him on a cool, crisp white linen sheet. Of her arms and legs stretched wide. Of his tongue, his lips, his fingers over every inch of her tingling skin, upon her sensual mouth, her exquisite breasts, and her urgent, swollen, fragrant sex.

Of him filling her with pleasure, with joy, and with himself.

In every way.

.

She wishes he would write something for her.

He just has.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Fabian Perez

I wrote and posted this five years ago, and since. Definitely the Romantic side of RD. I am rather fond of it. I hope readers do not mind the repeat

 
2 Comments

Posted by on June 2, 2019 in Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Anywhere

 

If it had been a bar

A softly lit quiet city haven where a sad piano player shapes and ripples the minor chords of half-remembered songs for lovers and strangers.

Or a party.

A loud, crowded, noisy gathering where laughter and conversation and alcohol and coke tempt bodies to sway and dance and forget tomorrow.

Or on a busy street.

A rush and dawdle of business people and tourists, shoppers and beggars, hawkers and sellers where the traffic ebbs and flows, pauses and surges like a sea.

Or in a thousand and one other places.

An office, a restaurant, a ball game, a concert, a carnival, a temple, Or a wide open space where the wind blows and the birds are thrown from sky to sky.

If it had been anywhere instead of this strangely connected. disconnected, familiar, unfamiliar world of swirling, teeming, edgy cyberspace.

I would still have found you

and wanted you

so badly.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Fabian Perez

Written about four years ago. I like it, so I hope you don’t mind another posting.

 
8 Comments

Posted by on May 14, 2019 in Uncategorized

 

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Breathing

 

When I am

low

or lost

or sad

or angry

or alone.

 

When I am

happy

or brave

or wild

or excited

or at peace.

 

Certainly

when I am

aroused

or moved

or inspired.

 

I write.

It is like breathing.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not new, but always true.

Art by Fabian Perez

 
10 Comments

Posted by on May 10, 2019 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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If I could taste you

 

If I could taste you

Just once.

.

Your forehead, your cheek, your throat, the nape of your neck.

The pulse place just below your ears that you touch with scent.

.

Your chin, your mouth, your lips, your tongue.

Your fingers, your hands, your wrists.

The soft pale inner part of your arm that sees less sun.

 

Your shoulders, your waist, your ribs.

The sculpted indentation of your elegant spine.

.

Your breasts, your areola, your hardening nipples

Beautiful and urgent beneath my soft breath.

.

Your toes, your ankles, your shins, your calves

The tender place at the back of your knees,

Your thighs, your hips.

The perfect peach

of your immaculate arse.

 

If I could taste you just once.

Pressing my lips to your exquisite sex.

Letting my tongue glide over your delicate folds.

Pressing my mouth to your desire-slick lips.

Teasing your clit with the tip of my tongue.

 

If I could taste you just once.

I would lose my appetite

for all others.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

This not new. Oh, but you ….

Art by Fabian Perez

 
7 Comments

Posted by on April 11, 2019 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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