RSS

Tag Archives: sex

Out of the ordinary

 

There are those of us

perhaps like you

and certainly like me

who live our lives

wanting something

more

something dark

and decadent

something wild

and beautiful

something exotic

erotic

and mysterious

something out

of the ordinary.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Ward George

 

 
4 Comments

Posted by on October 14, 2017 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Permission

 

She knows

for him

she will do

all the good

bad

dark

sensual

erotic

forbidden things

she has always

wanted to do

but needed

both permission

and instruction.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Talentbek Chekirov

 

 
Leave a comment

Posted by on October 9, 2017 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Dizzy

serge-marshennikov-9-620x413

 

Dizzy with desire

she trails her fingers

from the hollow of her throat

over the yearning ache of her breasts

down the sweet mound of her belly

and between her parted thighs

to her slick and swollen sex.

She imagines they are his fingers

finding her hungry

and wet.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Serge Marshennikov

I have posted this a couple of times. But felt it could cope with a repost.

 
8 Comments

Posted by on October 4, 2017 in Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

Tags: , , , , , , ,

Trail

 

I will trail

a shiver

of soft kisses

from ear to mouth

nape to throat

collar to breast

belly to hip

thighs to lips

breathing in

your scent

tasting desire

exquisite

and delicious

on your skin.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Damian Klaczkiewicz

 

 

 
16 Comments

Posted by on September 24, 2017 in Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

Tags: , , , , , , ,

Tale of a Dominant : Part Two – The End?

 

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

 

 
22 Comments

Posted by on September 23, 2017 in D/s, Lovers Past, Poetry

 

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

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 …

Art by Fabian Perez.

 
16 Comments

Posted by on September 22, 2017 in D/s, Still Life

 

Tags: , , , , , , ,

Overdose

serge-marshennikov-9

Oh to be there

tangled

in those sheets

your back pressed

against my chest

my hands

cupping your breasts

my face buried

in the storm

of your hair

inhaling deep

and overdosing

on the heady scent

of you

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Written a year ago but oh, what an overdose you would be

Art by Serge Marshennikov

 

 
7 Comments

Posted by on September 13, 2017 in Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

Tags: , , , , , , , ,