Walk the City at Night, See What Happens…

The Romantic Dominant
Sep 20 · 8 min read

“Walk the city at night, see what happens.”

— The Sun Also Rises, Ernest Hemingway


She knew I had special “lingerie” planned for this evening; she didn’t quite understand the specifics.

When I spoke to her days earlier, in fact on the very same day I posted this written piece to Medium, she could sense I was “in a mood.”

Ownership — if I had to boil it down to a single word.

There is no mistaking my tone when I am “in a mood,” and “in a mood” I am. When my mood gets like this, it is impossible to miss. Sinister, with a heavy emphasis on “sin.”


“Time for the lingerie,” I said. Excited for her new garb, she knew me too well to know it wasn’t something like a corset or bustier.

“This is how you tie a crotch rope, Darling,” I said to her. Immediately, she gazed a giggle at me from her beautiful brown eyes.

“Remove all your clothing,” I continued.

“Stand up straight.”

“Hold still now.”

“Perfect.”

“Now spread your legs a little but not too much.”

“That’s my Good Girl.”

“Now don’t move.”

Preceding to measure and then cut the rope, looping around her nervous naked frame, her lips completely sodden already, I wonder to myself, “what kind of owner will I be tonight?”

Now for the reader, these are the moments that an astute Dominant would know means all the difference in the world. A novice doesn’t think about these things.

One-half inch tighter and the entire night will have a completely different feel. One-half inch looser and we have something more playful.

Tighter, we have a message of strict obedience; loose, and it’s joyous and fun, even possibly a little bratty, yet still a subby mindset.

You see, for my submissive Kitten, whom I call “E,” both of these mindsets do different things for her. Both that she craves and wants; it’s my decision to determine which one is best for her, on any given night.

Know your other half well enough — you’ll know the length of the rope before you even cut it.


Staring at her exposed naked cunt, my options are staring right back at me, quite literally.

Over the clit, outside the outer labia, or split the difference?

Each one of these decisions sends a different message, and each different message makes for a different experience. Each message, repeated in every step and movement you will take, all night long, minute after minute, hour after hour, until I put you to bed at the end of the night.

So I repeat my phrase clear and calm, but firm for you to hear, “this is how you tie a crotch rope, Kitten. Stand still and don’t move.”

Grabbing her by the meat of her pussy, I toy with her mind as I talk to myself out loud. “Do I go over the clit? Or outside this slutty little hunk of meat I have here? Hmm. What kind of slack do I allow you, before tying the knot?”

“Hmm.”

I channel my inner deviant, all for show.

But the truth is, I knew exactly how this would go before I woke up today. Appearing as though I’m playing ink-a-bink-a-bottle-of-ink in my head, I take her mind and dance with her thoughts.

This is a first for her and I already know I will want to play with her clit at dinner in the restaurant. Because of this, I need full access and decide we will go easy on her and go outside of her pussy tonight. The rope is run outside her outer labia, looped up and around, then knotted securely in the back.

“Done and done.”

I do a mental checklist — safe, sane, and consensual? Check, check, check. I make sure all systems are a go and proceed.

“We are going out for a nice dinner and wine tonight, My Love. Does that sound nice?”

Yes, Daddy,” she said.

“Do you like the new rope underwear I picked out for you, Princess?”

“Do you?”

“Does this make you wet, Little One? It sure looks to be the case.”

And then the three words that I crave like a starved and lone islander escapes her lips. I do my best to contain the boyish smile inside of me when I hear it. Holding it back, as if I didn’t just get flushed with excitement at her statement.

She says those words. Those three magic words.

Anything you want.”

Technically she said “anything you want, Daddy,” didn’t really answer my question in the first place, but I’m not splitting hairs tonight. We have reservations, and it’s fucking Barcelona for Christ’s sake — the overly authoritative demeanor can wait for a different night, back in the States.

Less than a mile away is a white tablecloth dinner awaiting us.

I tell her we are going to walk the streets instead of calling a ride, which always makes my girl happy.

Heading east toward the ocean through La Rambla, I make a poor attempt at sounding cultured when I use the word “paseo,” and I can see it in her eyes she wants to laugh but she does her best not to. I guess that’s what’s so special about us; all the D/s in the world would never mask the real side of us, where giggling at your dorky ass Dom is still okay.


Out onto the Ramblas, the crisp Mediterranean air is sending signals up her dress to her bare pussy. It’s as though Mother Earth is my partner in crime, helping me break her down through little cool puffs of air all night long.

Each step she takes along the open sky corridor of shops is like a small jolt to her pussy, bound up with nylon rope. I deliberately pause and taking photos of nothing, all to extend the walk a little longer. Her pussy is dripping by now and I don’t even need to check to know it.

I find a semi-secluded spot and we stop against the railing. We are out of line-of-sight view of the hundreds of tourists at our backs. I lift the front of her dress up; nonchalantly, I finger her clit until she is right at the edge of orgasm.

Then I buckle down and go to town on her. Circles, faster and faster.

Fuuuuck! Fuck! Fuck, Daddy!”

Ignoring her as though she didn’t say a word, her pussy juices are more than enough to soak my fingers as I run circles around her clit. Round and round, round and round, and soon her knees start buckling.

Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!!!

“Fuck!!!”

She says, “I’m gonna cum.

Firmly, I say, “No you fucking will not!”

“No, you fucking won’t!”

“You fucking better not.”

The tone in my voice snatched her orgasm right away for her grasp and put it right back in my pocket.

Gone, as quick as I put it there.

I can see the pout in her face begging to develop, don’t feel like addressing it, so I say, “well, let’s not be late for dinner. Doesn’t that sound nice? A nice meal?” The sarcasm is as thick as it gets.

She has an amazing submissive mind though. Most would assume she’d think, “how unfair,” but not heer. She is instead thinking, “Daddy knows something else,” and she knows I’m holding her orgasm for later so it completely shakes her to her foundation, far more than if I allowed it now.

I say it again, expecting a specific response. “Dinner sounds lovely, right?”

Anything you want,” she says.

The answer I was looking for. Like always, I break from my role and can’t help but tell this woman in front of me the same thing I tell her a million times a day: “my god, I fucking love you so much.”


At dinner, her dress is hiked up sitting next to me under the table, and I edge her for an hour and a half with my fingers. Every so often I dip the wetness into her mouth; she sucks her sweetness off my fingers like it was chocolate syrup.

Sitting there, looking around at everyone dressed up for the evening, she gets hornier than ever. The thought crosses her mind, all night, knowing underneath her clothes is a crotch rope binding her pussy. She feels the rope riding up against her ass, and feels even more lovely inside.

Two solid hours now of edging and my cock has been hard most the night. Precum is a mainstay, and I can feel the moisture on the front of my boxer briefs.

Heading back to the loft we take the same path, this time with far fewer tourists. The crotch rope is worn like a badge of honor by her now, never more proud to wear anything. Heading down the pathway we spot a quiet area, with only one other couple around, so I stop, kiss her, look at the collar on her neck and wrist, and say one word.

“Kneel.”

The look on her face is like I gave her a Christmas and birthday present at the same time. The most beautiful setting. A touch if risk. Submission at it’s best. A world of vulnerability — it speaks to every part of who she is as a woman.

So she does.

On the Ramblas, I am staring down at the most beautiful woman ever born, looking up at me with the greatest sense of peace she ever knew. Brown eyes, so full of life.


Soon she is up, walking with me, and we walk through the doors to the loft and I toss her down onto the bed.

Legs up, I leave the rope on as I proceed to run my tongue over her clit and look into her eyes and tell her with my iris that it’s okay to cum now. Like a bolt of lightning, her legs grip my head, and she shakes uncontrollably for a good two minutes without a break.

Immediately, she is spent.

Too bad for her I am barely getting started. I am addicted to her salt. After four more orgasms from just eating her pussy, I just leave my tongue inside her hole and savor her wetness for a moment.

Fingers inside her now as I suck and flick her clit, tapping away inside as her G spot comes to life. She tries to curl up in a ball but I will not allow it, holding her down as I suck her pink bean and finger her G until she shivers again, and really hard. Reaching deep, I play near her cervix until I see the next set of orgasms flood over her.

She is completely wiped out.

Pride is consuming me.

I cut the rope with a knife and pull it off, stuff it in her mouth, squeeze her neck, stand between her delicate olive legs, and pull my cock out. I don’t have the self-control to tease her right now; I put the head of my dick at her wet lips and thrust inward.

Squeezing her neck, slapping her tits, she barely has enough in her to say what she wants to say.

She says, “use all my holes. Use me. Daddy, use me how you wish.

I keep pounding her cunt and kissing her like I want to grow old with her at the same time. It’s aggressive romance; sadistic love. With lips locked, I slide my cock out of her pussy, spit on my cock, and press inside her ass and within a few slow thrusts, she lets me know to push harder.

Harder. Fuck me harder,” she screams.

I’m half ready to say “anything you want” but remember that’s her line. Pounding away, my time is up and I fill her ass with my cum and she orgasms with me, one last time.

I collapse on her, cock still inside her and going limper by the minute.

“My God, Kitten. I fucking love you so much.”

“Such a good girl tonight.”

“I love you so fucking much too, Daddy. So much.”

The Romantic Dominant

Written by

Passion. Love. D/s and erotica from a male perspective. Middle-aged American Dominant. Read-Enjoy-Touch. Very taken, by an Orange Sky.

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