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Prophecy

Art by Casey Baugh

 

She gives me her palm to read.

I trace a line

from the tip

of her index finger

to the flickering

nervous pulse

in her wrist.

Then along the pale skin

of her arm.

 

I climb the rise

of her breasts

and traverse

her elegant shoulder.

I tenderly

stroke her throat

and chin

and cheeks.

 

I touch the curve of her lips

then softly kiss

her mouth

with a prophecy.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Written three years ago, but I hope the reader does not mind the repeat

Art by Casey Baugh

 
6 Comments

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

 

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Baring skin

 

I adore

the soft

slow

sensual

sound

the tongue

of the zipper

makes

tantalizingly

releasing teeth

and baring skin

as you

undo

your dress.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not new – but oh that sound ….

Art by Annick Bouvattier

 
4 Comments

Posted by on May 6, 2019 in Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Like gunfire

 

I absolutely love

the staccato sound

of confident high heels

exploding

like gunfire

across an expensive

expanse

of polished

marble floor

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

This post is a couple of years old, but I will always love the sound

Art by Thomas Saliot

 
2 Comments

Posted by on April 25, 2019 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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Attraction is a mystery

 

Attraction is a mystery

What is it that captures, captivates and compels?

What is it that draws us, like iron to magnet, bee to honey, moth to light? What is it that makes us warm to another, need to make contact, need to be in their presence, or simply make us catch our breath when they come close?

Is it in their eyes, or their mouth? Is it the arc of their smile? Is it in their height, their weight, their curves and lines? Is it in the colour of their skin or their hair? Is it in their laughter, or their voice, or their words, or the intelligent mind within?

Is it in their honesty, their truth, their empathy, their kindness, their compassion, their hope?

Is it in their movement, their balance, the way their body moves when they walk? Is it in the clothes they wear?

Is it in what they do, what they like, what they believe?

Is it in their beauty, and the beauty they see around them?

Is it in how good they make us feel?

Is it something we instantly see deep in their soul, something we recognise and know? Something that touches our own?

Is it that we sense they will complete us?

 

Attraction is a mystery.

Even after all these years I cannot explain it.

But I do know

I am deeply attracted to you

by all of the above.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Written a couple of years ago. I still don’t know the answer, and probably never will. But I do know what attracts me …

Art by Hamish Blakely

 
15 Comments

Posted by on March 29, 2019 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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Pheromone

art-by-william-oxer

 

I can pick up

the merest trace

of your pure

scent

across thousands of miles

across restless seas

across unknown geography.

 

It is such a poignant

potent

puissant

powerful

provocative

persuasive

perfect

pheromone

I am utterly compelled.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

I wrote this a couple of years ago. ‘I can pick up the merest trace ….’

Art by William Oxer

 
2 Comments

Posted by on February 12, 2019 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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Skin

art-by-omar-ortiz

 

I am in love with skin.

I love the feel of it beneath my finger tips. The heat of it. The smooth texture beneath the ridged whorls of my prints. The beauty, the softness, the glow. The gorgeous glide over muscle and bone. The imperceptible down at the base of the spine. The pucker and berry of nipple. The impossible silk of inner thigh.

I love the scent of it as I breathe in. The individual intimate fragrance. A heady heaven of perfume, pheromone and perspiration. As private and personal as a signature.

I love the taste of it beneath the caress of my tongue. The delicate hints, the slight tang, the subtle shades of flavour that fill my mouth. The unique, eloquent, dark, secret essence of sex.

I am in love with skin.

Your skin.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

This not new. I have posted it three or four times. But I hope you enjoy regardless

Art by Omar Ortiz

 
12 Comments

Posted by on January 30, 2019 in Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Desire is brutal

 

Desire without release is brutal.

It is a hunger, a longing, a yearning.

It is a constant ache.

It crucifies nights and tortures days. It distracts, confuses, and leaves the senses shredded. It makes concentration challenging and application impossible.

It steals rational thought.

It refuses to allow peace.

It makes every moment urgent, every second restless.

It fidgets with time. It is pure torment.

Desire without release is brutal.

But relief, when it comes, is heaven.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Written a year ago, but desire is always brutal.

Art by Kamille Corry

 
12 Comments

Posted by on December 6, 2018 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Good things

 

Good things

seldom happen

randomly

by chance.

They usually need

more assistance

than just hoping

for divine intervention.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Thomas Saliot

 
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Posted by on October 22, 2018 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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All afternoon

bondage_by_neil__whiteley-d5b3wjd

A cool, darkened room.

Outside the sun is blistering the wooden shutters. Narrow shafts of light sear between the wood, striping the walls and ceiling.

And streaming all over you.

They band your body, striping you cream and coffee coloured

You are naked, face up, on the white-sheeted bed.

You are stretched out in a star shape. Your wrists and ankles are secured to the four corners by ropes through steel D rings on strong black leather cuffs. The bindings permit little movement. No matter how hard you tug and strain against them

You have been here for almost an hour. I have caressed you, kissed you, licked you, stroked you. I have nibbled you, kneaded you, and lightly scratched you. I have teased you with my pin wheel, with a soft brush, with a scarf of silk, and with my twelve stranded flogger, trailed over your skin.

And with two of the dozen toys that I have carefully arranged on the oak bedside table.

I have a vintage Hitachi wand in my right hand. It whirrs rather noisily yet it is a faithful servant. I am applying it expertly to your already swollen and glistening sex. With my left hand I am tugging and pinching your hard-as-berry nipples. Your body is bucking and arching, wanting to push away from the wand’s relentless, dimpled, vibrating touch yet at the same time to thrust yourself against it.

Your breathing is urgent and hard. You are panting and crying, sighing and moaning. I know you are desperate to speak, to shout something at me. But you do not. I have forbidden you words.

Your body is dancing now. Strands of your hair are damp and clinging with perspiration. Your face is suffused and flushed with deep arousal. Your eyes roll back. Your mouth is open.

Your muscles tighten. You shudder. The orgasm reverberates through you.

It is your third climax.

The toy continues to send spasms through you. You make small noises of protestation. I smile. After a while I switch it off and idly but dangerously trail my fingers over your inner thighs.

I consider which device to use next.

Later I will reposition you face down.

Later still I will fuck you. Hard.

I have all afternoon ahead of me.

I am torturing you with pleasure.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Photograph by Neil Whiteley

I wrote this around this time four years ago. But perhaps new readers will enjoy …

 
5 Comments

Posted by on July 28, 2018 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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The yearning

 

Sometimes

you feel it

in your bones

in your skin

in your heart

in your soul

in every fibre

of your being

and you know

it is what you want

it is what you need

and nothing

will stop

the yearning.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Hamish Blakely

 

 
1 Comment

Posted by on July 21, 2018 in Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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