Tag Archives: Trudy Good



It is not


what he will do

to her

that keeps her awake


at night

and distracts her


through the day.


It is imagining


all the things

she hopes

he will do

to her.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Trudy Good



Posted by on May 8, 2017 in D/s, Poetry, Still Life


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On naked strangers


Images of naked strangers leave me cold

Nudity has become far too common a currency to attract my attention or pique my interest.

A body is a body. Some are more elegant than others. Some have been treated better or worse by time. Some are cared for. Some are toned by exercise. Some are a paradise of lines and curves. Some are the shape I admire.

But they do not raise my pulse.

Not unless I am attracted by the personality within. By the intellect, the sense of humour, the creativity, the warmth. And of course, by the hungry, submissive soul.

The body, especially one without exclusivity after having been viewed by many, is merely a shell.

It is she who inhabits the body that gives it attraction, magic, desirability, potency.

She gives it power.

The power to make me ache.

And want her.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Trudy Good

I wrote this three years ago. As true as it has ever been.


Posted by on April 16, 2017 in Still Life


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Art by Trudy Good

I am almost always in control.

Of another, of course, but particularly of myself.

But tonight with the summer solstice girdling the evening with magic, and with a wild, apocalyptic moon building herself in the heavens, I am partially undone.

I pace the humid, velvet, fantasy-rich night with light, hungry, tireless footsteps.

Prowling. Circling. Rattling this invisible chain that tethers me.

I am taut, stretched, urgent. I am savage, romantic, decadent. I am poetic, dangerous, sensual.

I close my eyes and allow the rush of her body to sweep over me, exciting my imagination. Her hips, her thighs, her belly, her breasts. The sweet hollow of her throat. The sacred mound of her sex.

The delicate silk of her hair trailing against my skin. The feel of her gorgeous curves beneath my fingers, against my lips, beneath my tongue.

Her scent filling my mouth.

The certainty of leather restraints upon her elegant ankles and wrists. The circle of a collar about her neck.

I am almost always in control.

But tonight I could roar with this aching, yearning, delicious desire.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Trudy Good

It would seem a good time to resurrect this old post of mine.  A day late, but never mind. Summer has not shown its face in England yet.


Posted by on June 21, 2016 in D/s, Erotica, Still Life


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I am not a religious man

but to the celestial being

who shaped your curves

sculpted your beauty

crafted you so perfectly

and made you adorable

I give my eternal gratitude.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Trudy Good


Posted by on June 10, 2016 in Still Life


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