Happy femdom story: Najakcharmer

I have been a fan of Najakcharmer’s posts and writings for a long time, and her fabulous long term poly relationship with her two men has been a thread throughout. This is a story about a happy, healthy, wonderful poly relationship full of love and primal passion. It’s long, but totally worth it…

Author: Najakcharmer

“Eventually the whip arm gets weary, and you find yourself in the same room with an adult human being who has a mind and a personality and a voice. Should he not also be good company and compatible as well as a good submissive, this presents problems in any relationship lasting longer than a kinky play session. So, let us see if we can make friends first.”

I’ve always insisted on making friends first.  Anything else just doesn’t work for me.  If a ‘submissive’ guy approaches me like I was a thing to be used, a game to be played, a prize to be won, an alien creature from another planet, or otherwise not a real human being just like him, I’m done right there.  If he uses the term ‘friend zone’ seriously, it’s over before it has the chance to start.  It tells me he doesn’t think of women as friends, or really as people at all.  And I can’t relate to anyone from the other side of a gender gap.  I’m not a very gendered creature to begin with.

My Pirate and I met at FAD, the local femdom group.   We immediately had a lot in common, particularly the fact that we were both genderqueer and strongly animal identified, more primal and feral in our approach to D/s and to life in general.  We became friends with a spark of sexual chemistry and fairly regular play at the FAD parties, but no demands that the relationship do anything but grow organically.  Over time it did, evolving into a many-layered thing that encompassed genuine liking and friendship as well as intense primal play, sexual desire, romance and a deep emotional connection.  I was deeply appreciative that he was pansexual and willing to relate to me as male and female or both or neither.  It worked out well for us.

There were times I looked at him and couldn’t hold another thought in mind except that he was beautiful.  I remember holding a bar of chocolate we were sharing, making the mistake of looking at him and just being frozen like that, staring.  I dropped the sticky melty chocolate on the bed and wasn’t even aware of it, just looking at him like nothing else existed.  I don’t even think I even remembered how to breathe.  We laughed about it later.  He is still that beautiful to me.

“The party was noisy. They were playing a game of Charades, and everyone was supposed to be guessing. He was sitting at my feet, shirtless, wearing just my black leather vest. I vaguely remember hearing my team complain that they were behind and would lose the game if we didn’t get the next one right.

“I wasn’t looking at the stage. All I could think was that I really didn’t care, because he had hair like burnished copper, like the lazy golden sun of late afternoon when it pours down in cascades of warm honey and amber.

“The grace and beauty of him at times is enough to break my heart, and to make it whole again.”

Pirate is a warm, loving, gentle, protective, supportive life partner, calm and mature, a solid rock of strength to rely on, a good communicator and a peaceful person to live with.  The only thing I wanted and did not have in him was a specific kind of submission.  I like genuine fear and intimidation coupled with physical surrender when I play, and my Pirate is utterly fearless.  He will endure anything for me and he will not break.  He tried to pretend to fear, to roleplay for me, but it didn’t quite work.  He is a strong knight in service, a powerful second in command who can step up to a leadership role if I am temporarily incapable.  He submits by choice rather than by force.  I respect and appreciate his willing service a great deal, even though I am generally wired to desire different qualities in submission.

My Pirate is truly magnificent just as he is, and I would not change him.  He inspires me.

“I am in awe of the courage that it must take to submit with willingness and grace. It inspires me to strive for greatness within myself, so that I may remain completely worthy of such a gift. Simultaneously humbled and enobled by pain and passion, he becomes a rare and beautiful creature that defies any simple description.

“Were there any such thing as a shop of ancient and magical curiosities that could only be found by the most perceptive and dedicated of seekers, invisible to casual passers-by, one that sold djinn bottles and dragons in gold and silver chains and black feathers from the wings of fallen angels, that would surely be the place where I once found him.

“It is considered unwise for past customers to give any address to those who have not yet seen, or to speak more clearly of the mysteries that may lie in wait on those dusty shelves. Or of the proprietor, whose eyes are like twin coals of burned rubies in an impossibly beautiful face. And behind him, some say they have seen the whispering ghosts of faded wings.

“But of course there is no such place, no shop of myth and magic that grants the deepest wishes of one’s hidden heart. And once you have seen it, once you too have found your heart’s desire there, this is what you also must say. And what you find there, you must keep.”

I deeply love and appreciate my Pirate.  Not having 100% identical kinks and D/s preferences was not at all a deal breaker, especially for two people with experience being poly and enjoying play and deeper connections with others while maintaining a strong and loving relationship.  We both agreed that while we didn’t absolutely need a third partner to be happy, it was fine for us to play safely and with full transparency with others.  It would be nifty if we happened upon a unicorn – that mythical bisexual man who had at least some degree of connection with both of us – but we weren’t actively shopping, holding our breath waiting, or being annoyingly creepy about looking for a shared sex toy rather than relating to actual human beings.

We proceeded merrily along for a few years, completely happy with each other, playing casually and mostly nonsexually with others, occasionally getting to co-top some very pretty bisexual men at parties.  Yum.  No one really clicked with us past that casual play level and we never invited anyone home until we met our foxy.   Nope, he wasn’t bisexual, not one teeny bit, but he was brilliant and geeky and awesome and wanted to come home with us and play D&D and Munchkin and Ninja Burger and go out for adventurous Chinese food and be friends.   So we did. It was a lot of fun.

The D/s chemistry I had with foxy was powerful.  Just my hand gripped tight in the long black silk of his hair was enough to drop him shaking and gasping into deep subspace.  A few light slaps could make him weep while looking up at me with a heady mix of terror and ecstasy, thanking me with tearful gratitude for hurting him.

“I think I love him most of all when he is bruised and crying and shaking, cowering under my upraised hand. His eyes are wide and staring, poised on the trembling edge of fear and worship. Beautiful victim, helpless object; the imagery is powerful and compelling to me.”

It was indescribably fucking hot, right from the beginning.  I wanted more, and I was scared of how much I wanted it.

“There are oceans in his eyes, and sometimes I think I could drown in them. Their salinity is in equal parts of love and fear, adoration and intimidation. Impossible not to plunge into them, to explore the fascination of their depths, and to be caught in their dark undertow. There is no defense against utter surrender.

“Formidable, the hold he has over me when he is naked and trembling and vulnerable. I cannot look away; my eyes are locked into place as securely as his collar. Powerless and surrendered, he is totally powerful, totally compelling.”

I struggled with those feelings for awhile.  I wanted, above all, to be ethical and responsible to both of them.  Foxy said early on he wasn’t sure he could be okay with poly, and given how fragile and vulnerable he seemed, I didn’t want to hurt him.  I also didn’t want to get hurt, or to neglect my beloved Pirate, or to spring any surprises on either of them.  I checked in, a lot, with both of them, every step of the way.   I was careful and I took it slow.  I consciously nurtured and prioritized our friendship, not just between foxy and I, but between foxy and Pirate as well as our (nonsexual) three-way dynamic.  I planned one or two date nights a week with each of them, plus one social day or evening with the three of us most weeks.

Eventually we figured out that foxy had never felt any jealousy or resentment of my relationship with Pirate.  For someone who wasn’t sure about poly, he was doing ridiculously well at it.  His nervousness about poly was solely about his not wanting to actually have sex with a man. Once I explained that I really wasn’t much for ‘forced bi’ where the men weren’t genuinely hot for one another, possibilities started opening up.

The two of them do have awesome chemistry.  It just isn’t sexual at all.  You know those two boys in your class the teacher could never let sit next to each other, because they’d be constantly giggling and whispering with their heads together and making stupid jokes with each other that almost nobody else would understand?  Yeah.  That’s them.

The evening I took them both to a play party, and they spent the entire event giggling with each other on the porch and telling D&D campaign stories, and largely ignoring me because they hadn’t seen each other in a few weeks and wanted to catch up, I knew we were golden.  The other dominants couldn’t quite figure out why I thought this was awesome.

We moved in together a few years later.  It just made financial sense, since by then we were spending so much of our time together anyway.  We are a merry, geeky household with much laughter and many common interests, and we are a family. Our triad is a very comfy place to live.  There is no drama, we check in with each other and talk a lot.  Minor issues that come up get resolved quickly, calmly, maturely and with good will all around.  The boys are totally unselfish with each other and each consistently goes out of his way to make sure the other gets enough time with me.

I took a lot of very small steps to make sure the boys had time to get to know each other and develop that level of comfort, even though it sometimes meant that I went slower than I personally wanted to at times.  The long term goal we achieved was worth it.

Sure, I am the boss in the relationship and I could have run off chasing tail whenever I wanted, and been a lot more focused on my desires and less focused on communication and their comfort level.  That would have been much more Twue Domly, I’m sure.  Had I done that, I think there would have been a risk of one or both relationships imploding in hurt feelings and drama, and then I could have been the Twue Dom of nobody at all.  Or they wouldn’t have imploded, but I’d be living in a perpetual miasma of unhappiness or at least awkwardness. Not my idea of a happy home life, so I did it the more traditional ‘poly way’ with lots of talking and checking in rather than the Uber Domly Dom Masterly way.

Yes, we do have an authority based D/s relationship.  No, it doesn’t look like the set of a ‘femdom’ porno movie.  Thank goodness.  Having to dress in latex and high heels and being formally addressed as Domly Dom Goddess Mistress Empress Of The Known Universe all the time would make me want to fucking shoot myself. What I want is to be able to relax and be silly and geeky and have tons of fun at home with sexy men who belong to me and who are also my best friends, my gaming buddies and my beloved family. Being the dominant, that is exactly what I get.

The whole stereotype porno femdom image is….well, it’s not me, and honestly it strikes me as more submissive sex object than actually dominant. It’s someone else’s fantasy, and I’m not interested in living it. I live my own fantasy for real, and it’s a whole lot better for me. It just isn’t likely to look like anyone else’s idea of a 24/7 femdom household.

As head of household, I set the long term goals and short term expectations for our family. They must decide which paths to take in order to meet them, and discuss the options with me if they need input or if the decision is major.  I make the decisions, but that does not mean I am likely to put my wants or even needs first. I tend to look at the bigger picture of what is actually feasible and good for all of us in the long term.

I have high expectations of my property.  I expect them to be competent, effective, reliable, and in control of everything they need to control in order to meet their responsibilities to the household and to the outside world. They are the executives, I am the CEO.  It’s not good practice to waste the CEO’s time with day to day management details, and it does not inspire confidence in the abilities of an executive who has to do that.  I do not micromanage.  If you need to be given permission to go to the bathroom, or be told how and when to do everyday things, we are not a good match.  Fortunately neither of them need to be micromanaged in order to feel submissive, or controlled, or loved.  We are all most comfortable in the “CEO to executive” power structure that leaves them plenty of autonomy while I retain final authority.

Our relationship dynamic is rock solid because we still have that foundation of being great friends with many common interests who just like spending time together. We also have the sexual attraction and romance, the fun of BDSM play, the intensity of D/s, and the deep commitment of a collared and branded Owner/property relationship.

They do get sexually objectified, rather a lot.  They are hot little studmuffins, though of course they blush a lot when I call them that.  Male submissives are beautiful and desirable creatures, and it is absolutely tragic when they do not know their own desirability because they are forcibly taught, not just by mainstream society but by the BDSM community, that they are not desirable, that they can not possibly be objects of desire.  But they are mine.

My dominant sexual desire is raw, primal and savage. When I beat and hurt a man who belongs to me, who trembles with fear and awe and desire under my hands, I get wet. I want to bite his neck and lick down the length of his beautiful body. I want to taste his blood and his sweat and his tears and his cum. I want to fuck him, to use him, to take him and teach him that he belongs to me. And I own him, so that is exactly what I do.

There is a terrible, transcendent beauty in our relationship that takes my breath away. And it bears so little resemblance to the stereotype of female dominance that it might as well be from another planet.

“He is John Barleycorn, consort and sacrifice. He is brutally degraded and taken for the most profane of uses, and thus a god worthy of worship and reverence. Crucified in leather, his flesh is violated and sanctified, celebrated and decorated by the bright blood roses of our passion. His body is the altar at which I worship. It is the sacred paradox, and it is the deepest truth and the greatest beauty that I can know in this life.

“It excites me, his willingness to be utterly naked and rawly vulnerable. It is for me, all for me. He is mine. He trembles on my chain and gasps for breath between hard slaps and caresses as gentle as a whisper, savage kisses and bites that leave him bruised and whimpering. I break his skin. Bright blood rubies, the most precious jewels of all, his unreserved gift to me. Who among us would not be moved?  Who is so blind that they cannot see this beauty?

“He offers me the blank canvas of his skin and lets me paint it in cerulean and crimson. I could ask for no greater gift. The jewels I like best are the bright strings of tiny ruby beads that are born in the wake of my blade, etched into beautifully yielding flesh. There are no flowers as lovely as the delicate rose petals that bloom on his white sheets after a heavy caning. He bleeds for me. There is no greater love than this.”

I am deeply grateful for what I have in them.  It humbles me that I have so much, and it inspires me to constantly strive to better myself so that I remain worthy of being their alpha, their leader, their head of household, their master. My respect and appreciation for them actually makes me a better person, as does my constant awareness of the responsibility I have for making good decisions for my family. 

I do not pray to any god, and if I did, it would not be a Christian one. To me the divine is everywhere; it is scattered in the wind and the seeds of the blowing grass, the great oceans that are the womb of our mother the earth, the runic spirals of living DNA, the sacred fire in all of us whose only commandment is to live.  But I feel that I am truly blessed to have two such wonderful partners in my life.

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This post is part of a project to share happy, positive femdom relationship stories.  If you have a story and are willing to share it, please email it to me (ferns AT domme-chronicles DOT com).