Today [FMM] [Gentle Femdom] – Part 1 of 2

**Writer’s Note:** This piece of fiction contains mature language and content. If this is not what you want to read, please choose something else.

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Tyler, Last Week

In three days, Miss Jonquil will collar me, making me Hers alone. Well, not exactly only Hers. Her submissive husband Thomas will be there too. It is kind of difficult to explain our relationship. I guess it is like a pyramid. Miss Jonquil is the entire top of that pyramid. Thomas is a good part of the middle. I am the layer next to the ground. Maybe we’re more like the best lemon meringue pie: a whole pile of meringue, a smooth layer of lemon pudding, a light crust at the bottom. You can’t have a whole lemon meringue pie without all the parts.

Yesterday, I said, “It’s about time, Miss Jonquil.” It was saucy, I know, but I could tell Her mood was not stern – and besides, I have been Her Toy for almost two years.

“Cheeky Toy, it has nothing to do with the time spent before the collar. It has everything to do with how you spend the time after you have been collared.” She looked me in the eye. “This is your chance to back out, if you don’t see a lifetime with Me.” She paused. “It is a marriage of sorts. With a marriage, there is a wedding day with a lot of celebration. But the real impact is that a marriage follows that wedding. The marriage is long-term. So we will have a collar ceremony. The impact is that service follows that ceremony. Service is long-term.” The look She gave me was serious, but not stern. She was asking me if I was willing and strong enough to go through with it all.

The truth is, I don’t see a lifetime without Her.

I bowed my head nearly to the floor. “I am Yours, Miss Jonquil. Forever.”

At times She’s so tender, I almost can’t stand it. She touched me as I bowed before Her. Butterfly-gentle, Her hands caressed my head. She lifted my chin, and I stood on my knees – I knew that was what She wanted by the way Her fingertips pulled gently upward – so that She could place a kiss on the top of my head.

“You are so good,” She said.

I am so good. I am finally good. I have Someone to be good for.

—

Jonquil, 22 months ago

This man is as green as… I am struggling with the right shade of green to match him. He answered My ad, and showed up promptly. He is eager and bright, but there is so much he needs to learn. I placed the ad for a submissive on a Lifestyle site, so I assumed – apparently groundlessly – that any replies would be from people more familiar with the wide variety of the Lifestyle. Right now, his eyes are as big as baseballs. He is kneeling, as I asked, but I can see how confused he is. He must have expected a huge, towering dominatrix dressed in black leather with whips and chains in her fists, and a branding iron warming in the fireplace. Instead, it is I. I am wearing a floral dress and pearls. Simply stated, I did not change from my work clothes as soon as I got home. Instead of offering to beat the man, I am offering him options in an agreement with Me.

I have to remind Myself that everyone in the Lifestyle started at the same point: green. Grass-green. I simply found this man earlier in his development than I expected.

“No, Tyler. I am not interested in impact play. That doesn’t mean that I am telling you not to seek it out. If you want your ass tanned, then you need to find a Domme who wants to tan your ass for you. I am not the one. I don’t engage in blood or breath play, either.”

“I’m sorry, Mistress-”

“Hold it right there, please. I am not your Mistress. I am not your Madame. I do not appreciate the connotation of being either a home wrecker or a harlot. Call Me Miss Jonquil. Can you remember that?”

“Yes, Miss Jonquil.”

His brown eyes are wide. I see the questions swirling in his head. I know he sees My Pet Thomas seated in the chair by the window.

Not able to resist a smile, I said, “Pay no attention to the man beside the curtain.” I heard the stifled breath Thomas took to avoid laughing. “He is My Pet and My husband. You shall call him Mister Thomas – if there is a need for you to address him.” I stand a little closer to Tyler, and put My hand under his chin. “If you and I work well together, then you will come to see that Thomas is not your competition. You and I will have our dynamic, while My Pet and I have our dynamic. If you and Thomas work well together, the two of you will work out your own dynamic.”

I indicate a simple wooden chair next to My desk. “Be seated.” He straightaway stands up (those young knees, I think) and takes his seat to wait for Me. I walk to My chair and sit down. Then I open the top desk drawer and pull out the draft agreement I had started working on before his arrival. I also move the monitor screen so that Tyler can see it. “We are going to go through all of this before we do anything else,” I say, putting the draft agreement where he can read it. “If we make changes to the agreement, I will reprint it.”

Bless his heart, he complies already. If he works out, he will be My new Toy…

—

Jonquil, 26 years ago

I feel a bit out of place here. I am the only female dominant present. Oscar, a dominant I met on a BDSM board and one whom I respect, suggested it would be a good thing for me to attend a local munch and learn more about myself. I hope there will be some discussion of why we want what we want, how to develop as a dominant, how to take care of submissives, and so forth. I order a BLT, because nothing else on the menu appeals to me. This is also my first munch, so it wouldn’t do to have salad dressing or spaghetti sauce all over my blouse, not to mention any of the other dripping sauces in nearly everything at this restaurant.

After a moment of silent eating, Gary starts discussion by saying, “When my sub tries to top from the bottom, I make the whipping hurt. Really hurt, till I start to feel bad about it. I make a note of it in my journal, so that I can see what her behavior has been, and how many times I have had to punish her. But after a beating, she pisses me off again almost right away, till I beat her again. It can take three or more beatings for her to stop deliberately pissing me off. I even put clothespins on her tongue when she sticks it out at me. That plus a couple beatings may improve her behavior – but just for a while. If beating her won’t shape her up, what will?”

Gary’s submissive is not present, I guess that gives him the go-ahead to talk about her so openly. It sounds as if he is admitting that he has not been making good choices, or may not even be the right dominant for her. Then I think – I missed the obvious part. Hitting someone in anger is not what BDSM should be about. That was in one of the first articles I ever read on the subject. It was the second rule explained.

I don’t have to wait long for someone to speak.

Sitting across the table from me, David says, “You’re going about it all wrong. Your sub likes getting hit, even if it hurts more than she’s used to. Beating her is just giving her attention. When she’s a brat, make her do something she doesn’t like. I make mine pour a cup of rice – raw rice – on the floor and then kneel on it. She doesn’t get bratty anymore, because it won’t get her what she wants.”

I think, not all pain is the pleasurable pain they seek. Some pain is simply painful. Out loud, I ask, “Sir, have you ever knelt on rice?”

Dead silence. Then:

“No, I haven’t,” he says.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not a submissive. I don’t need the lesson.” That is David’s answer, said in a voice that lets me know he finds submissives inferior to him. His sub is sitting right next to him, her face lowered, her eyes not meeting anyone else’s. His tone also lets me know he thinks submissives are stupid. They need the lesson, he doesn’t.

I say, “Doesn’t being a dominant mean training and mentoring a submissive, making the submissive the best he or she can be? I don’t see what the benefit of kneeling on rice is, and I don’t understand how you would require it of your submissive if you don’t know what it feels like.”

Wow. Less than dead silence. Then all the dominants speak up at once. Someone – I don’t see who – says loudly, “Brats need to be broken.”

The man sitting to my right side says, “Book learning is different from practice. You need to learn how to handle subs, hands on.” I turn to see he is indeed aiming that remark at me.

Peeved now, I continue in a louder voice. “Furthermore, bratty behavior is appreciated by some dominants. Brat-tamers. If you wish for perfect submission, you should choose a submissive who actually wishes to please you from the outset.”

I am at least five to ten years younger than the youngest person there, so I can feel the snipes about my age without them being spoken. They all have an opinion on who could better teach me to dominate, and the opinions are all different on how they would proceed. I listen to them argue for only a few minutes more, then I leave. I didn’t go to the munch just to see who wins the contest of who is bigger and badder than the rest.

When I get home, I log onto the BDSM board and find Oscar.

After greeting him, I ask, “Why did you tell me to go to a munch? They were the worst people.”

There is a pause. Then Oscar asks, “Who was there?”

“David. Gary. I didn’t catch all the names.”

“I don’t know David. Gary is pretty new to the Lifestyle. Was Vince there? Or Penny?”

“No.”

“Selma? She’s a dominatrix, and she’s been in the Lifestyle about 30 years or so.”

“Selma was not there, either.”

Oscar thinks I should go to another munch. He tells me Selma would be great to learn from, but she doesn’t attend many munches any more. She doesn’t chat online as often as she used to. I think, then why should I depend on her? She obviously has other things going on, so attending munches and tutoring new dominants is not a priority for her. Myself, I don’t plan to go to any more munches. I am not keen on learning how to beat anyone and bruise them to the point they can’t carry on with normal life for a couple days. Besides, I already have a submissive. Maybe other local groups are better. Maybe other people attend other munches. Maybe there is a local dungeon with a variety of tools I could use. There are a handful more “maybes”, but I don’t see the point in going to munches, since I can find reference materials on my own and experiment with my sub.

I am going to be my own kind of dominant. Let anyone who wants to say I am arrogant, go right ahead and say it. My best asset is My mind, and I can do whatever I choose once I have put My mind to it.

—

Thomas, 27 years ago

Jonquil is chatting on the BDSM board, and I want to get her attention. She hasn’t identified herself as a dominatrix, but I see all the indications. Others have pointed this out to her, as well. I am not the only one who sees it. She has clear ideas and intentions, a definite belief system. My urge is to follow her. That tells me right there, she is a leader.

Jonquil says, “Why do you say sensation play is just a lead-up to impact play?”

PleaseMe answers, “Because it is foreplay. The sub wants the impact. Sensation play is a tease. Subs bear it until the dominant is ready to hit them.”

I smile when I see Jonquil’s response: “But tickle torture is a form of sensation play, and it does not necessarily lead to impact.”

“That’s a niche,” replies PleaseMe.

Because I want to be on Jonquil’s radar, but knowing I might get tossed off the forum if it doesn’t go well, I type: “Some people might prefer niche play to other, heavier types of play.” I hit enter.

PleaseMe says, “Are you submissive, EasilyLed?”

EasilyLed is my nick.

I reply, “Yes, Sir.”

“Then you know it’s not about your desires. It’s about what the dominant wants.”

“That hardly seems fair,” Jonquil rejoins.

There is a long, heated discussion about life not being fair. I’m happy that I managed to put in my two cents and not get tossed or banned. (PleaseMe doesn’t give warnings. He bounces and bans according to how much disrespect a chatter has shown. He’s especially hard on submissives.)

Jonquil is treading deep waters, but I can’t warn her without running the risk of being booted off the forum as well.

“I understand violence very well. But why sexualize it? Violence is about hate, fear and anger. Why would you want to do that to a person who is complying?”

I can’t believe it when PleaseMe says, “Jonquil, you are close to getting booted for the remainder of the day.”

She doesn’t apologize. She leaves.

It is a few days before I see Jonquil online again. She is on a different board. Erotic poetry. I join and say, “Hi, everyone. Hi, Jonquil.”

“Hello, EasilyLed. I remember you from the BDSM board.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

I smile when I read: “Ma’am? I am 20 years old. If you can’t just call me Jonquil, call me Miss!”

“Yes, Miss Jonquil.”

We chat for a while. It seems she is quite the romantic, and that is why she is perusing the erotic poetry.

She says, “Most of it doesn’t have any soul. I never thought about anyone masturbating to poetry, but it seems like what most of the poetry here is for. ‘Erotic’ doesn’t necessarily mean ‘sex’ to me. What do you think?”

Here is my chance.

I say, “I don’t read many of the poems here. The first couple I read weren’t that good, so I lost interest.”

Crap. That doesn’t answer her question. I type as fast as I can.

“Erotic means more than sex. It should have heart.”

Maybe I saved myself…

“Exactly!” she says.

I smile. This is going pretty well. I am falling for her from what she says, just from her words. I have combed every board to find her posts, and she is the most together person I have ever heard of. I want to be her sub. How in the hell do I suggest this to her? More importantly, how do I get her to accept a sub who is 18 years older?

—

Thomas, 3 years ago

Jonquil isn’t home yet. I just got here. I will tell Her how my appointment went – but it is going to be rough. The doctor said I am going to need knee replacements. My cartilage is shot.

I’m not afraid of surgery. I have faced some tough stuff over the years, and pain doesn’t scare me. I have been thinking about this the whole way home: post-op pain isn’t the worst thing I could face. The worst thing is that my sex life with Jonquil will go right down the toilet. She isn’t only about sex – She is not shallow or petty. But how can I keep Her interest if we can’t indulge in Her kinks? Or mine? It hasn’t taken me much time to figure this out. In fact, I figured it out today, as soon as I walked out of the doctor’s office and headed toward the car. The Lifestyle is not meant for people with disabilities – or for people who are older. I am well and truly fucked. Who wants a servant who can’t kneel?

As I am pouring the last of the wine into my glass, Jonquil opens the front door. I rise to greet Her.

“Please sit down, Pet,” she says. “Your knees.”

I sit with my face toward Her.

“What happened at the doctor’s?” She searches my face. I may tell Her all the words, but She is looking for my reaction because I can’t always tell Her my feelings. 25 years, and I still have problems telling Her negative things.

But I tell Her all I can. The X-Rays. The injections. The prognosis. The doctor said, “You’re looking at knee replacements in both legs. You probably should have had replacements already, since it’s bone-on-bone.” The hospital will call with the pre-op and surgery appointments. I know it’s going to be expensive. Medicare will cover it, but I haven’t met my deductible yet. As I am talking, Jonquil comes closer to me. I say the last of it while She rests her hand on my head. Rehab. Weeks of rehab. No driving for weeks. Up to a year for full recuperation.

“Pet, everything will be all right.” She quiets me with a kiss on the lips. “We will get through this together. No buts.” She kisses me again. “We need to get a lot of things in order. No decorative rugs to trip you. A hospital bed right here in the living room for the first few months while you recover. No. I will not hear anything contrary. You are going to recuperate, and I will take some time off. Perhaps I will work half-days after the first week or so, so I can still be here to help you. We will have to discuss how I take time off. You are absolutely not going through this alone.”

Later, as we are curled in each other’s arms in bed, Jonquil asks me what is wrong.

“I am worthless to You.”

She sits straight up.

“Turn on the light. We are fixing this now.”

I sit up and spill everything inside me. I won’t be able to kneel to Her. For a while, I won’t be able to even take care of myself, let alone serve Her. It is going to be tough getting dinner together. I won’t be able to handle any of the heavier household work. I won’t be able to do my duties as a husband and submissive. No suspension play. No bondage. No vanilla sex, even. Unless I am lying on the bottom and She climbs on top, carefully avoiding my knees. There’s no guarantee after surgery that I will ever be able to do any of those things. Ever. Why would She want to stay with me?

She kisses me over and over, slipping Her tongue into my mouth and flicking my tongue. When I move my tongue, She sucks it into Her mouth. Moments later, She breaks off the kiss.

“Thomas, I love you. Yes, you are My submissive, My Pet, but you are My husband, too. We are not over in any of those senses, just because there is a medical issue. Would you leave Me if I had a heart attack? Or if I contracted MS?”

“No!”

“Then you understand. I am not leaving you. If we cannot do some of the things we have enjoyed doing, I think that is just part of getting older. We are mortal. We do what we can. We continue loving each other. As for these smaller concerns, we can get housemaid service to tidy up. We can order take out. We can drop off our clothing to have someone else launder and press it.” She shushed me. “It doesn’t matter if the people we hire do not perform to our exacting standards. When and if we are able to take care of these household things, we will do so. By ‘we’, I mean you and Me, or you, or Me – any combination, whoever is able. I am not going to let housework ruin your recuperation. Your health is more important.”

She holds me, and I don’t struggle or protest. In Her arms is where I need to be.

“But what kind of sex will we have?” I ask with my face in Her cleavage.

I feel Her looking down at me.

“Whatever sex we want to and can do. If you can’t hang upside down, you won’t. If I can’t bind you, I won’t. We still have all the sensation play. Tickling. Sounding. Figging.” She hugged me. “You can wear a blindfold, so I can surprise you, Pet. We can give our agreement another read-through, and make any adjustments necessary or desirable. The dynamic does not change, only the specific acts may change.” She gave me a really hard squeeze. “By the way, you are not to kneel any more. Period. Even before surgery. No kneeling. I have decided this, and I am putting My foot down. From this moment on, your position of service will be seated.”

“Yes, Jonquil.”

—

Jonquil, 18 months ago

In most ways, My Toy is a wonderful young man. I can see so much development in these few months. We have a “working” agreement now. Because he is so very new to this, we have to revise the agreement fairly frequently. I have told him with finality that I will not use any toys for impact play. If he needs to see Me with a flogger in My hand, I will drive him crazy by trailing it all over his naked body. Paddles, belts, whips and the like are completely off the table. Despite going over all this, and all the discussion and negotiation, he still brings up darker things that I simply do not like. One thing is that he says he likes to be scared. I think it is the roller coaster effect. A person who is not in danger actually, but who feels the activity is dangerous, can be frightened and still know that they will live through the event. If there were no seatbelts in roller coasters, no one would ride them. The perceived danger would be actual danger and amusement parks would cease to exist.

I have gone over this in My mind to find a safe way to scare him, since he brings it up so often. I plan My scene.

When My Pet leads My Toy into the room, I have a long table set with toys and tools. They won’t know which of them I plan to use. I know the anticipation drives My Toy mad (which even Thomas finds amusing – Tyler is like an excited puppy trying to be a good boy and get his treat at the same time). My Toy looks at what I laid out. A blindfold. A long, thin steel medical sound. Surgical lube. A large syringe without a needle. A vibrating wand. Anal beads. Rope. A handful of different vibrators and dildos. A flogger. A peacock feather. An electric drill. A small wooden mallet. A screwdriver. At the end of the table is an empty wheelbarrow I borrowed from a neighbor. (Said neighbor would probably be horrified to no end by the use to which I am putting his wheelbarrow.) Admittedly, most of it is window dressing. I am going for a certain dangerous, off-kilter effect.

The vintage obstetrical chair in the middle of the room is not, however, window dressing. On its seat cushion are the custom leather restraints I had made for My Toy. I have used the wrist and ankle restraints on him before, but never the restraints for his knees. The tilted half-smile My Toy had on his face is gone. I can see him trying to figure out that fifth set of restraint straps.

I am going to scare My Toy. After we have some fun, that is – starting with dragging the flogger all over his restrained body. After My Pet has secured My Toy’s wrists and ankles and has seated himself in the wingback chair, I pick up the flogger and walk toward My Toy, twirling the falls. I am going to drag the falls all over him. He knows I won’t do impact play, but he still has the biggest eyes. Great big puppy eyes filled with excitement and dread.

“Are you ready to play, My Toy?”

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/hkrfrb/today_fmm_gentle_femdom_part_1_of_2