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/Faded Romantic
Posted before, yet always true.
Art by Antonio Macedo
I will never forget
the adrenaline rush
the catch of breath
the quickening pulse
the sense of destiny
when first you touched
this page.
.
And I will never forget
my overwhelming desire
to seduce
and steal
and secure
your secret
submissive soul.
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic
Art by William Oxer
If I close my eyes
I can almost
spirit you here
your beauty
your body
your smile
your scent
your heat.
.
But almost
isn’t anywhere
near here.
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Art by Casey Baugh
Written a few years ago. Yet almost is never near enough.
Sometimes Sundays are like this.
Quiet and easy. Music playing. An eclectic mix of new and old, blues and rock, opera and orchestral, R&B and jazz, folk and dance, rap and reggae. Music from every corner of the globe.
I have windows open to the world. Sounds from outside meet and mix with those within. The calling of birds, the baaing of sheep, neighing of horses, occasional barking of dogs. Sometimes a car. I live in the country among trees and hedges, fields and farms, hills and valleys, streams and secret places. Away from the grimy rush and flow of the city.
There is a stillness about today. It is in the light, in the air, in the breeze, in the quiet passing of time. It is in my thoughts. It is in my mind.
I burn patchouli and read poetry. I strum my old acoustic guitar, strings and frets familiar beneath my fingers.
I think of you. Your beauty and your smile. Sensual and warm. Your body. A heaven of curves.
I enjoy the ache. The longing. The yearning. Today it is not wild. Yet it is constant. An endless prayer of desire.
I write words. Some of which you will read.
The afternoon stretches and breathes.
I think of you.
Sometimes Sundays are like this.
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic
Art by William Oxer
Once upon a time
by the sea
where the water
kisses the sand
I held a perfect
salt-bleached shell
to my ear.
The voice I heard
from within
was yours.
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic
Photography by Mira Nedyalkova
Not a brand new post. But when I listen again perhaps the voice I hear will be yours.
As I look
at your photograph
I imagine
gently lifting your chin
with the tips
of my long fingers
and placing
a tender kiss
in the perfect
scented hollow
of your elegant throat.
.
In my mind
it is the first
of a thousand
more kisses
to brush
and touch
and taste
and caress
over and over
every single inch
of your exquisite
skin.
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
This post a few years old – but a thousand kisses are at the ready.
Art by William Oxer
She is pure
perfect
precious
pulchritude.
.
She is sensual
sublime
sexual
seduction.
.
She is heavenly
as sin.
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic
Art by William Oxer
She has seen too many summers to be completely innocent.
And yet he has made her so.
She is new, pristine, spotless.
She is pure, virtuous, chaste and naive.
She is unsullied, unblemished, undefiled.
She has become a neophyte, a learner, a beginner.
A novice on her first day, her white dress pressed and spotless, the hem gently brushing her bare legs.
She is his pupil, his student, his apprentice, his initiate.
She is his disciple, his follower, his protegé.
She is his slave, his angel, his goddess, his Muse.
In this quiet, holy, secret place, she kneels before him.
Her mind and body are burning.
She is ablaze with desire.
She is thirsty for knowledge.
She aches to learn every rule, every code, every facet, every element, every shade.
Every verse of his dark and decadent religion.
She is hungry for him to instruct her, to teach her, to guide her, to discipline her.
To show her a wild, breathless universe of pleasure and pain.
She wants him to do everything.
She is his.
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Art by Antonella Fabiani
Originally written by me six years ago and posted a number of times. I hope regular readers can bear another repeat. There is nothing like a beautiful novice.
She knows
she should not let it
but it will
itch and ache
sigh and whisper
excite and arouse
until her mind is full
of dangerous possibility.
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
A few years old – but always pertinent
Art by Emilia Wilk
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