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The nature of it

 

 

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

Posted before, but always true.

Art by Antonio Macedo

 
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Posted by on September 17, 2020 in Uncategorized

 

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Never call me ‘Daddy’

 

I do not expect

to be called

‘Master’

or ‘Sir’

unless

I have earned

your respect.

.

But never

ever

ever

call me ‘Daddy’.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Marina Marina

This post is a couple of years old, but forever true.

 

 
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Posted by on September 16, 2020 in D/s, Poetry, Still Life

 

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A thousand kisses

 

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

 
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Posted by on September 7, 2020 in Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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September Sunday

 

A soft, silent

September Sunday

surrounded

by sunlight

solitude

song

and a strong

seductive

sensual

sexual

sense of you.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by William Oxer

 

 

 
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Posted by on September 6, 2020 in Erotica, Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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Novice

Art by Antonella Fabiani

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 five years ago and posted a number of times. I hope regular readers can bear another repeat. There is nothing like a beautiful novice.

 
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Posted by on September 5, 2020 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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Sea

 

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

Photography by Mira Nedyalkova

Not a brand new post. But when I listen again perhaps the voice I hear will be yours.

 
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Posted by on September 4, 2020 in Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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Dangerous possibility

EmiliaWilk44

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

 
2 Comments

Posted by on September 3, 2020 in D/s, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Like a cat

 

I can feel

your curiosity

pressing up close

arching its back

curling around me

seeking my lap.

 

I can feel

your curiosity

sleek and soft

and purring

like a cat.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by William Oxer

 

 
10 Comments

Posted by on September 2, 2020 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Almost

 

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 couple of years ago. Yet almost is never near enough.

 
11 Comments

Posted by on September 1, 2020 in Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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A geography of her

 

I will adore her

Even from a distance.

For she is beautiful, wild, elegant and independent.

I will discover her, I will explore her. I will chart her.

From the fragrant hair on her lovely head to the tips of her painted toes. I will know every inch of her.

I will study her. I will learn her. I will examine her.

In photographs, on video, through audio.

From opportunistic selfies and meticulously planned photos shoots. From impromptu captured moments and wonderfully contrived scenes. I will review the contents of her wardrobe. Her clothes, her footwear, her lingerie. I will dress her up and dress her down. I will strip her naked in a hundred ways and position her in a thousand poses. She will wear makeup or be natural. She will be a fantasy angel or an everyday girl. She will be the dragon queen or the stranger in a bar.

I will know her hair, her eyes, her lips, her nose, her mouth, her skin, her piercings, her ink. I will know her arms, her hands, her legs, her belly, her breasts, her throat. Her thighs, her back, her arse. Her sex.

She will walk for me, move for me, stretch for me, sigh for me, purr for me. She will dance as innocent as a schoolgirl, as bold as a stage act, and as seductively as only a woman who knows she is utterly adored can dance.

And she will be adored. Every smile, every frown, every tear. Every bubble of laughter. Every bone, every muscle, every sinew, every nerve, every fibre, every pore. Every breath.
Every word she speaks or writes.

I will utterly adore her beauty, her body, and her thoughts.

And then, if and when we meet, I will have a map, a plan, a billion pixels of familiar, sensual, heavenly destinations.

An intimate study of a perfect creature.  A geography of her.

And I will finally know the pure wonder of finally laying my fingers, my lips, my tongue, my body upon her glorious, gorgeous terrain.

Teasing, testing and thrilling her with my toys.

Filling her with myself.

Paradise delivered.

The virtual becoming real.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Valeri Tsvetkov

I wrote this six years ago and have posted yearly since. A favourite of mine and a favourite theme. When the terrain is divine.

 
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Posted by on August 31, 2020 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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