DEBRA’S SON: GUIDELINES FOR GYNARCHIC OR MATRIARCHAL FAMILIES

 

(A note from Thomas Lavalle: The following post by Debra’s Son was previously published on this blog. After having removed and now reinstated the entire blog, I am proud to republish it. On rereading, I am again impressed with the clarity of statement and simplicity of the “argument,” which I mean only in the philosophical sense. The case for matriarchal family values is here given a most persuasive presentation; and, of course, Debra’s Son is not simply an advocate but an example of the wholesomeness of female-led family dynamics, having grown up in a matriarchy and then married into one in which he lives blissfully and obediently.)

Debra's Son: I’ve been asked to share some thoughts on the family dynamics of a gynarchic or matriarchal household. First, let me make clear that the following is based solely on my personal life experiences described elsewhere on this blog. This makes mine a somewhat informed, experienced opinion, I’d argue, but an opinion nonetheless. In my examples, I’ll use a family formed by a Wife, husband and children for convenience only. These suggestions can apply to any family type.

To rein in my tendency toward long-windedness, I’m going to use a trite but hopefully effective aid to put my few random thoughts in some sort of order—the anagram. In this case, the anagram is W*O*M*A*N.

The first letter, “W,” stands for Wisdom. 

I don’t believe it’s wise to post just a set of gynarchic principles on the wall, no matter
how clear and precise, and expect everybody in the household to follow them or be punished. A cult-like isolation is required for such a method by itself to be effective. In the modern world, our kids are influenced by the Internet, their peers, celebrities, teachers, the watchful eyes of various officials, and a thousand other things.

Our ideas regarding female superiority must compete with mainstream culture and win. This is where wisdom comes in. If I could give only one sentence of advice it would be this: Teach by Examples First, and Concepts Second. We have to show our kids that gynarchy works in a practical sense. All adult males in the household, be they fathers, brothers, uncles, “mannies” or non-familial servants, have to show that serving and obeying females is a privilege, as well as a fulfilling and proper way of life. 

An adult male ought to go about his chores cheerfully during the day and expect the younger males to help him as a matter of course. It’s not so different from the older patriarchal practice of women taking pride in their culinary and housekeeping skills, and passing that pride and skill on to their daughters. A male needs to show pride and skill in everything from managing the mundane task of monthly bill paying, to fixing a teenager’s broken heel, to cleaning the commode (and keeping the seat down), depending on what the ladies of the house want and expect of him. 

As for concepts, they can be taught formally, of course, from any number of sources, just as religious parents teach their kids from scriptures. But in my experience, informal chats and musings are at least as effective, probably more so. For example, let’s say a father or manny is preparing a favorite dessert of Mom’s or of one of the girl’s. One or more boys are helping him. There’s a radio or TV on, reporting some major or minor wrong against a woman by a male (there’s never a shortage of such reports) . Depending on the story, the father might say, “Men like that are a big part of what’s wrong with this world. Look at the way he treated her. The gall! He really thinks he has the right to do that. Real men know better. Real men know that everyone would be a lot happier if women were in charge and led the way.” A boy of any age can learn something from nonchalant comments like these. Girls too, if they’re nearby.

Having said the above, let me admit that formal instruction is vital. We ought to be able to defend our way of life to our kids the same as anybody else. We can use older texts like those mentioned elsewhere on this blog, as well as contemporary ones such as Sheila Ellison’s (ed.) If Women Ruled the World or Donlan and Graves’ Her Turn: Why It’s Time for Women to Lead in America. A word of caution, though. Don’t get caught up in endless debate with a child. A sharp boy (or girl, for that matter) can pick holes in the most coherent philosophy just for the thrill of it. If that happens, you need to say something like, “That’s enough. This is how we do things here. If you don’t see the wisdom of it now, you might when you get older.”

“O” is for Oversight.

If you’re a male with some authority in the home, you should make sure it’s known by all that everything you do or want done is ordered or sanctioned by the female(s) in charge. In my experience, indicating this fact repeatedly through casual chitchat is effective. For example, you’re moving furniture around, and you might say, within earshot of the kids, something like, “All right. Mom wants this table moved over here, because she and Haley need more room when they do Pilates. Tim, Danny, take the other end and lift. Mom will be back soon, so we better get this done.”

Any male you enlist to help must be aware of who is really in charge, and the younger they are when they learn this, the better. If you’re not sure of what to do, say, “We have to ask Mom” or “Mom needs to know about this,” and, of course, “Wait till Mom comes home!” ought to be a classic phrase in the matriarchal household. 

Now, if phrases like those above are repeated enough, I can almost guarantee that before long a child is going to say something like, “Is Mom the boss here?” Your response should be a firm, serious, “Yes, Mom is the boss here.” Say it as though it’s the most natural thing in the world (as it really is), conveying the fact that you wouldn’t want it any other way. If the child wants to know why, give him or her intelligent reasons, but as I mentioned above, don’t get caught up in an argument. Make it clear that we adults think that matriarchy is better for everyone, and that’s the way it’s going to be. 

“M” is for Maturity.

Again, setting an example is key. An adult male should not complain about his lot. Don’t grouse or show resentment over the sacrifices you have to make and the orders you have to obey. And, above all, don’t use the children as confidants for your venting. You agreed to live in a matriarchal household, so suck it up. If you have concerns or problems, take them up with the appropriate female, according to the procedure she’s laid down. You are subordinate, and you have to bear that with cheerful, stoic perseverance and pride, as an example to everyone else in the household.

Females are going to have more privileges from birth, and will gain ever more authority as they mature. It is up to you to show the other males how to react. It’s likely that girls will have the bigger bedrooms, more privacy and downtime, more autonomy and money, and, as soon as they are able, the privilege of command. To use a military parallel, you might be an experienced master sergeant, but as your adolescent daughter matures, she becomes a lieutenant, and you have to recognize her authority and obey her within the limits of reason and safety. All females are officers or officer candidates, and males are perpetually enlisted. Your job is to simultaneously aid your wife in teaching the “Officers” leadership skills while setting an example for the “enlisted” and preventing too much resentment among them.

I’ll take time now to mention the obvious. The most important foundation for everything else is love. Boys need to know their place, but they should never feel unloved or unwanted. If they get enough affection and attention, they will be a lot less likely to rebel against the established matriarchal household order. Sometimes it takes conscious effort on our part. As Gynarchists, Matriarchists, Female Supremacists, etc. (choose your term), our natural instinct is to favor the females in our lives, whatever their ages. That’s fine, but we should do it with wisdom and skill.

“A” is for Ancillary Aspects.

This is a broad topic, and I won’t spend much time on it because the details will vary among families. It includes whatever peripherally promotes gynarchy and female superiority. Everything from special ceremonies and celebrations, to art reproductions and decorations, to the books and magazines that lie around the house. I’ve mentioned a few examples from my own childhood in other posts, such as the celebration ceremony my family had when a girl reached menarche, the artwork depicting heroines from history and mythology, and classic books on matriarchy. Even hobbies and craft projects can be employed for this purpose. In my childhood home, a feminist spiritual atmosphere was prominent. I remember my mom having me help her create a small wall-hanging that put a twist on the famous religious quote. It said: “AS FOR ME AND MY HOUSE, WE WILL SERVE THE GODDESS.”

Again, however, these aspects will vary widely depending on the household. My wife has made it clear that while she wants to retain some Goddess symbolism, she prefers a more “secular” atmosphere overall. She’s going to emphasize more contemporary heroines from the STEM fields and athletics, and naturally I’ll follow her lead in this direction.

“N” is for Normalize.

Every idea and manifestation of matriarchy must be made a normal part of everyday life. Ideally, from the time your family is formed until the last person leaves or passes, female rule and privilege should run through everyone’s life like a string through the beads of a necklace. There would be no necklace without the string, and there would be no family without matriarchy. Like the string, matriarchy might not always be blatantly visible to outsiders, but it will be there, holding the family together.

There’s no one way to achieve this, of course, but in my opinion, a stable, productive household atmosphere, routine but not boring or stultifying, is vital. Males need to know what is expected of them, and females need guidance to enable them to enjoy their power and privilege within the family as early as possible. The senior adults of the family, regardless of gender, need to have their act together. That’s not always possible, but it should be the goal, because if there’s too much dysfunction (I’m thinking of things like drug abuse) among those in charge, matriarchy won’t save the family. Speaking of things that are not always possible, any matriarchal family needs to try hard to find at least one other functional matriarchal or gynarchic family. The sense of community, even among only a couple of families, can have tremendous benefits that are too obvious to need explaining.

Our household now consists of my wife, myself, a son, and a daughter on the way. Using what I’ve learned from my own childhood and from helping raise my nieces, I’m trying to take my own advice—that is, I’m trying to set a good example above all. Her son is only 3, but he already sees that his mother has supreme authority in our home. He watches her tell her older husband what to do and he sees me do it with cheerfulness and alacrity. We want to normalize female authority for him, so when he faces the situation in the future when his younger sister becomes a “lieutenant” and he’s still a “private,” he’ll see it as simply the way things are done. And if we’re successful in getting across the reasons why, and showing how well and happy our family can be, he’ll see it as the way things ought to be done.

To me that’s the most important thing: Passing gynarchy onto the next generation. 

*

Debra’s Son: “There Were More Matriarchal Families Than People Think”

[Note from Thomas Lavalle: “Debra’s Son,” a regular reader of this blog, shares his reminiscences of growing up in a matriarchal, Goddess-worshipping home.]

Although I was not aware of it back in the ‘60s and ‘70s when I grew up, I’m now convinced were a lot more matriarchal families like ours in those years than many people think, perhaps due in part to the countercultural influences of the time.

In my case, my parents were originally sort of lapsed hippies before they met, for want of a better way of describing them. My mom then got involved in a sort of radical feminism of the sex-positive type, and combined it with her own take on Goddess worship. These two main concepts informed the way she saw the world and the way she ran her household. My dad loved and adored her, and he went along earnestly on her journey. They are still together, in fact, and she’s still very much in charge.

I’m the oldest of three children. One boy (myself) and two girls, one two years younger than I and one four years younger. We didn’t have much of an extended family, but mom had a couple of like-minded female friends who also had obedient husbands and children, and we’d all get together for parties, etc.

Our house was led by my mom from as far back as I remember, so a house where females were privileged was normal to me. My dad was attentive, affectionate, and totally obedient to my mom, but I never thought of him as weak or wimpy. He was very intelligent, strong, had good character, and was a great helpmeet to mom. He was a tax accountant who worked from home (mom insisted, so that he could do a lot of the child care), while she was in real estate and went on business trips occasionally.

Mom never preached female supremacy per se, but she had a sizable library of matriarchal works, like Bachofen’s Mother Right, Gould-Davis’s The First Sex and Diner’s Mother’s and Amazons, to name only three. She also had fictional works that promoted female superiority, and even sci-fi movies with such themes. They were never forced on us, but we all were encouraged to read or at least thumb through them, or watch them, and we did, including dad.

There was also a definite feminine atmosphere in the home. By that I mean there were art works depicting strong or vibrant women like reproductions of paintings by Klimt or small versions of sculptures like “Standing Woman” by Lachaise. The lighting and color schemes throughout the house were soft pastels, even in my room, and there was plush furniture and a lot of throw pillows. Mom didn’t allow anything very masculine, but I honestly never felt deprived. My toys were mostly learning toys or chemistry sets or something like that. Certainly no war toys, Goddess forbid.

I tended automatically to take my behavioral cues from dad while the girls took theirs from mom. That means I helped dad do all the household chores and take care of the younger kids while I wasn’t in school or on weekends. It was dad’s and my responsibility to make all the beds, do the laundry, including special hand-washing if necessary, run errands and grocery shop, pick up after the girls if they dropped their clothes on the floor, fix all meals and bring snacks from the kitchen if we were told to, etc. 

LOL, the girls used to run me ragged. If they wanted something, they’d just snap their fingers and point, and I’d run to get it. They learned early that men and boys were nothing to be afraid of or deferred to. I remember my youngest sister used to make me stand still and hold my hands behind by back. Then she’d playfully slap my face, with one of her hands, then the other, back and forth, sometimes slapping a little harder and harder to see if I was tough enough to take it. 

I can certainly relate to the importance of female birthdays. My mom practiced a form of goddess worship, and in addition to birthdays, she also celebrated the menarche (i.e., a girl’s first menstrual cycle). When my sisters experienced this, she’d celebrate with a private party for them. Only females were allowed to attend. For my mom, it was an important event on the path to womanhood.

Mom’s policy on authority was to give my sisters as much as they proved they could handle. My dad and I were the only males in the house, and the only time we were allowed to disobey my sisters was when they’d want to do something unsafe, or something against mom’s prior rules, etc. When they were adolescents and teens, they used their authority mainly for their own convenience, such as wanting snacks, or their rooms cleaned or special items laundered, errands run, etc. When they became young adults they were more interested in how dad and I were behaving and what we were doing during our free time, and whether we were taking care of the house, keeping the bills and insurances paid, and performing other duties mom required of us. In other words, giving mom a break by helping her monitor us.

The funny thing is I never felt like I was at any disadvantage. Dad and I made
that house run and we took pride in that. The fact that we catered to and obeyed the females in our lives just seemed perfectly natural, like the way things ought to be. Of course, I can see now that mom’s teaching and the atmosphere of our home had a lot to do with that. Still, I’m very happy with the way I grew up, and I’m still close to my parents and sisters.

Mom and the girls rarely did any chores unless dad or I was sick. If they had to do them because we got behind or were goofing off too much, we got punished. For whatever reason, mom didn’t believe in corporal punishment, however. Her favorite mode of discipline was down time. That means, if we disobeyed twice, or we did something more serious only once and didn’t have a good excuse, mom would send us to our room and to bed—for the rest of the day and night, even if it wasn’t even noon yet. We had to stay in bed and the room had to stay dark the whole time. If we were going to act like babies, we’d be treated like babies, she said. Dad and I were both subject to this. 

I remember a number of times when he had disobeyed, or he’d be a little too argumentative, Mom would suddenly say, “Okay, that’s enough. It’s nap time, Jim. You’ll see us in the morning.” Then she’d point to the bedroom. He’d go, sullen and sorry, but he’d go. The girls’ discipline, however, was different, and much less frequent. They’d lose privileges, or maybe be grounded if it was something really serious, but they never had to stay in their rooms like dad and I did.

The relationship between dad and mom was loving and affectionate, but I don’t think they had intercourse. I eavesdropped one time and, from what I heard, mom let him perform cunnilingus on her, but that was it. She cuckolded him pretty regularly, too. The boyfriends she had were intelligent and gentlemanly, and she’d invite them to the house and sometimes they’d stay over while dad slept in a spare room. It might seem strange but to the rest of us this all seemed perfectly within mom’s right. It was and is inconceivable, of course, that dad would ever be allowed to be with another woman. I truly believe he’s been chaste since virtually the beginning of their marriage.

Having said all the above, I can honestly say I feel nothing but tremendous pride in both my parents. They live they way they want to and they raised three fine successful kids, if I do say so myself. Anyway, I’m sorry this took so long, but as I said, there are more of us out there than is thought, so I just wanted to tell my particular history. Glad of course to answer any questions, but mainly I want to thank you for such a great blog, Thomas.

—Debra’s Son

The Empress Arises, Part 2: The Femdom Engagement

(Editor’s Note: This follow-on to the posting of May 31, 2022 features another short excerpt from The Empress Arises. It was co-authored by “Ivy Ann and Bobbi Rigger” and published by Lulu in 20111 but has been, sadly, out of print now for some years.—Thomas Lavalle)

THE FEMDOM ENGAGEMENT

Once you have established at least the first collar, you may go still further and consider actual marriage.

Should you decide to marry, you can formally signify your commitment to one another in precisely the way that other couples do, by getting “engaged.” The difference is that it is up to her to propose to him. Or, more accurately, to tell him that she has decided that he will marry her.

There are several ceremonies that you may wish to use for this. Some couples like to include it with their collaring ceremony. We, however, preferred to make it a separate rite entirely. We suggest something as follows:

Once he is entirely broken in and understands his complete submission to her, she selects some time when they are alone. Perhaps it is a Saturday morning. After he has served her breakfast, and she has finished, she assumes a seated position on the bed or else sits in a chair in some other room of the house. She will have purchased a ring by this time, and she will place it on a table or other surface next to her. Next to it she places his cock ring.

She then directs her man to undress and stand naked before her. If he is not already wearing his collar, he should put it on now.

Once he has obeyed, she will sit for a moment and regard him. At her signal, he will sink to his knees.

She will learn forward and take his chin in her hand and raise his head so that he will look her in the face.

”I have decided,” she will say, “that we are to be wed. You will swear to love, honor and obey me forever. Do you understand?”

He will say yes; or, if commanded to be silent, nod.

“You will wear my ring and be my property.”

Again, he will nod, or, if permitted to speak, will say, “Yes, my Queen.”

“You must understand. You will give up all hope of freedom and individuality. I will own you as I would any other chattel or object. You will be mine to have, to hold, to reject, to cast away, or to keep, as I desire. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my Queen.”

“Then extend your left hand.”

When he does so, she takes the ring and places it on his ring finger. She says, “With this ring, I thee claim. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my Queen.”

“Stand, but remain at attention.”

He does so. Then she reaches forward and places the cock ring around his penis. “With this second ring,” she says, “I remind you of your submission to me. You have surrendered your manhood, your body and your soul to me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my Queen.”

“Very well. I therefore complete my ownership of you.”

At her signal, he returns to the floor. Again, at her signal, he lies on his back. She mounts him and rides him until she is satisfied.

                                                                                ### 

Matriarchal Marriage of Mr. Lisa, Part 2

(Continued from previous posting; excerpted from the Spousechat archive on Mark Remond’s Wife Worship website.—Thomas Lavalle)

PAMPERING HER IN PUBLIC

CHARLES: One of the things Lisa likes is to lie by the pool or at the beach with me sitting at her feet, even if there are chairs available. She says it keeps me alert and aware of any needs she may have as she relaxes. I am always at the ready in case she needs something. I have also had some experiences where Lisa had me call her ma’am in public.

FINDING A DOMINANT WOMAN

CHARLES: A man looking for a woman like Lisa could start by taking a job as a receptionist at a real estate agency or at a female-run law firm. This will expose him to powerful, assertive women, and he can possibly build a relationship that way.

TAKING HER NAME

CHARLES: Recently Lisa and I did discuss the whole name issue, and Lisa decided (and naturally I agreed) that as a couple we are going to start using Ms. Lisa and Mr. Charles “Smith” as Ms. Lynda has suggested here several times. We are putting her name first, but she is allowing me to retain my first name. And, of course, it's her last name, which I took years ago. If she wanted me to go exclusively by Mr. Lisa Smith, and no longer be known as “Charles,” that would have been OK with me, but she didn’t. A little too unconventional, I guess.

TAKING HER NAME (continued after a lapse of time)

CHARLES, now MR. LISA:

Lisa and I have decided that from now on we will be known as Ms. and Mr. Lisa S., thanks to the suggestion of Ms. Lynda. I decided to take this step because I feel I need to do more to further the new matriarchy, and hopefully this will generate questions and comments from women and men. I must admit, it may possibly be a little uncomfortable at first. I am going to the stationery store today to order some envelopes and address labels with the name “Ms. and Mr. Lisa S.,” so I guess today will be my first test as to how I will go about this. I will let you know how it goes.

Lisa’s mother, Catherine, shares most of Lisa’s viewpoints on this matter, so of course she thought it was a fantastic idea. As a matter of fact, Catherine is a member of a local feminist group, and she has been talking for a long time about having Lisa and me as guest speakers at one of their meetings. I can hear her now introducing us: “Please welcome my daughter and her husband, Ms. and Mr. Lisa S.”

Catherine enjoys seeing men in servile positions even more than Lisa does. The other day when I picked up her ankle bracelet after getting it fixed (I broke it), I brought it over to her house. She was just getting ready to go to dinner. When I went to hand her the anklet, she said, in a very nonchalant tone, “Put it on me would you, Charles?” So I did. She thanked me and I left.

As far as Catherine, Lisa’s mother, she is divorced and has been for as long as I have known her. She does date, and from what I have observed, she’s in charge of her relationships. Lisa wants me to go with her mother to speak to her feminist organization by myself. I believe Catherine is arranging it, and Lisa is going to write a short presentation for me, but I suspect the Q and A session will turn out to be the most interesting.

The female stationery clerk was quite surprised when I told her the names I wanted on the items I was ordering. When I explained it to her, she thought it was the greatest thing that I was actually taking my wife’s name. She told me that I was a really enlightened man and that she wished more men were like me. I think this is typical of the reaction of most women.

A DAY AT THE BEACH

MR. LISA: Lisa finally took a day off yesterday. We had a very relaxing day at the beach, and she seemed very relaxed and at ease the entire day. I tried to do everything I could possibly do to make her day enjoyable. I treated her like a queen at the beach. In fact, there were three women on a blanket next to us who commented to Lisa, “Where did you find him?” “Does he always do this for you?” etc., etc. I found all of these comments to be so complimentary to me. After the beach, Lisa’s mother came over and I made them a great dinner. After dinner, they sipped wine as I treated each of them to a pedicure. I gave Lisa a French pedicure and did her mother’s in a light pink. These really set off their tans. It made me happy to see how much they enjoyed their evening.

FYI: The French pedicure has a pink basecoat and the tip of the nail is white. Anyway, after soaking and lotioning the foot, the cuticle is pushed back, the tip of the nail is trimmed and filed (for a French pedicure, square it off a little). The light pink base coat (Lisa likes L'Oréal Barely Pink) is applied, allowed to dry and then the tip is done in white and curved to the shape of the nail. A clear coat is then applied when the nail is dry. It usually takes me about an hour to do this. And if you make a mistake, there’s always nail polish remover.

GOING SHOPPING

CHARLES: I frequently accompany my wife shopping, and on occasion, one or two of her friends will shop with her and I will happily accompany them. In order to make their shopping more enjoyable, not only will I carry their packages, but I will even take the outfits Lisa wants to try on to the dressing room for her and stand in line to pay so she doesn’t have to. I’ll hold her purse and her friends’ purses, if they want me to. I’ve never received anything but compliments from women, customers and salespeople alike. On occasion, a man will say something like, “Boy, does she have you trained,” usually jokingly. Any man who is saying this to me is probably out shopping with his wife as well and is probably also doing as he is told.

BUYING FEMININE PRODUCTS

MR. LISA: I have no problem buying most of Lisa's personal products, even pantyhose or hair and skin-care products at the salon. But I must confess that the feminine hygiene products I do still find incredibly embarrassing to buy. The way I do it is just mix them in with a large food order at the grocery store, and stay away from younger checkout employees. The older ones will never say anything, the younger ones have.

WORKING FOR LISA

MR. LISA: Yesterday I told Lisa that I would be willing to fill in for her assistant for the second two weeks in July. Lisa had already assumed that I would. In fact, she was very insistent upon it, almost demanding that I do it. I will still be expected to do all of the housework and give her the personal services she has become accustomed to. A monumental task, I think, but it’s what she wants, so I will do it. Although I worked for women for years, I am still intimidated at the prospect of working directly for Lisa, not to mention the other women in her office.

I’m also not ashamed to say that I am definitely Lisa’s intellectual inferior, she is brilliant, while I never finished college. It will be quite a challenge, and I hope I do not disappoint her.

In the office Lisa can be playful, and it is her office, she even owns the building. She has joked around a little with me, saying things like “If you want to get ahead in my company, you’ll have to perform under the boss’ desk.” So who knows what may happen. I can only hope.

The first day, yesterday, was tough. Lisa is an unbelievably busy woman and keeping up with her instructions is a difficult task, I made a lot of mistakes. Then, of course, when I got home, there were all of my other tasks at home to do. I worked till midnight. Yes, I realize (as Ms. Lynda pointed out) that it’s important for me to be reminded that Lisa doesn’t need me to succeed, but I like to think that her life is more enjoyable because of the things I do for her. However, the sex aspect aside, all of these are things she could hire or pay other people to do. She has chosen to allow me to do these things for her, so it is a privilege.

I think I did OK for my first week, although I was chastised for forgetting a few personal tasks she told me to do. Like yesterday, I was supposed to pick up her dress at the cleaners, but I forgot. I’m trying to come up with some new ways to pamper and please Lisa, so if an of you have any suggestions, please let me know. I want to rededicate myself to making Lisa’s home life even more enjoyable. As far as the presentation to Catherine’s feminist group, Lisa is going to prepare something for me this weekend with her mother’s input. I think they are going to get together on Sunday.

MR. LISA’S BIG PRESENTATION

MR. LISA: Lisa has told me that I will not be returning to work on any regular basis, not that I did a
bad job, just the opposite, but she needs me for other things. As far as my guest appearance at Catherine’s group, it’s next Wednesday. She and Lisa discussed it last evening as I gave them their weekly pedicure. Lisa cannot attend, but I know Catherine will do an excellent job of showing the group what a “perfect, supportive husband” is like. I have been instructed by Lisa to do whatever Catherine tells me to do and to make sure I answer everyone’s questions honestly. I intend to act quite subordinate to Catherine for the entire evening, to address her as “ma’am” and wait on her hand and foot for the entire evening. I will make Lisa proud of me.

My presentation went great. Lisa wrote me a short talk which I gave, which basically detailed the premise of our relationship. As expected, the questions from the women were many. I did my best to answer them. Of course, being a feminist group, all of the women were very pleased and very supportive. They really enjoyed the fact that I was openly called Mr. Lisa S, and many of them commented on the statement that made. I treated Catherine in a very subservient manner all evening, and of course her friends noticed this and thought it was fantastic.

PLANNING ANOTHER FEMINIST PARTY FOR HIS MOTHER-IN-LAW

MR. LISA: Toward the end of August, Catherine’s group is having an end-of-summer pool party. Catherine asked me if I would mind being the waiter/attendant for this party. Of course, I said yes, as long as Lisa agreed. Lisa agreed to it, and she will attend as well. In addition, I have to put the entire party together as well as being the waiter/attendant for it. I actually can’t wait.

I have been busy tending to my household duties and planning the party for Catherine’s organization. I’m basically done with all the plans. I found a woman-owned catering company to cater the affair and, at Catherine’s request, all waiters/servers will be males. They will be the only males at the party, other than me, of course. I have not yet been told what my duties will be on the actual day of the party.

Lisa will be attending the party as her mother’s guest. The women of the group will get a firsthand look at a true female-centered relationship (other than possibly their own). Lisa and Catherine have been playfully arguing about who “gets” me for the party, so I’ve got a feeling I’m going to be someone’s personal waiter or something like that, either Lisa’s or Catherine’s, depending on who wins the “argument.” I hope it’s Lisa; Catherine enjoys embarrassing me just a little bit too much. But either way, I’ll accept it and do a good job.

I did get the impression from some of the married women in the group that they were head of their households. However, although many of them kept their own names, none of them had husbands who took their names.

Catherine wants all the waiters in white shorts, shirts and shoes, kind of like a resort atmosphere. I’m supposed to wear the same “uniform.” My job at the party will to remain at Catherine’s side as her personal waiter for the afternoon/evening. Lisa thinks this will be a good experience for me. I have found that Catherine has no problem with my embarrassment or humiliation, and neither does Lisa.

For example, I remember one time when Lisa was trying on some skirts at a department store, and I was sitting in the “husbands” chair with Lisa’s packages, purse, etc. The saleswoman was looking at the skirt Lisa had on and said that perhaps she should try a size 4. Without even looking in my direction, Lisa points in my direction and snaps her fingers. I immediately go to her and Lisa simply says “Go find this in a size 4.” The saleswoman smiled and I heard her say, “Boy, he sure is handy.”

I felt embarrassed and objectified at the time. There are countless other examples. Lisa’s mother does insist on being called “Ma’am” by me, and I know I will have to do this for the party in front of all of her group members and some of her friends as well. Also, when shopping with Lisa, I cater to her every demand without the slightest complaint. I even get on my knees and take off and put on her shoes for her.

Once, a saleswoman was joking with Lisa as I was trying a pair of shoes on her. The saleswoman asked if Lisa makes me kiss her feet, so I playfully kissed Lisa’s instep, and both of them were entertained by this. I’m also on my knees before both Lisa and Catherine when I do their pedicures.

Sure, if Lisa wanted to, she could come up with some really humiliating situations, and I would comply without complaint. But neither of us like to be in the spotlight too much. Catherine, on the other hand, does not mind the spotlight. I can only imagine what a shopping trip with her would be like.

LISA’S TOTAL FINANCIAL CONTROL

MR. LISA: The feedback from my presentation [to Catherine’s feminist group] was that the women were totally impressed by the fact that Lisa is the “boss of everything.” I found that they were particularly impressed with the fact that Lisa totally controls all of the finances, that I have no access to the bank 
accounts, and that all financial matters are decided by Lisa. Many of these women earn large salaries, and I know they were taking notes regarding our financial arrangement.

GETTING TEASED WHILE DOING ERRANDS

MR. LISA: I’ve been busy the past two days putting most of Lisa’s summer wardrobe away and getting her fall wardrobe ready. This means lots of laundry, ironing and trips to the dry cleaners. Also, soon Lisa will be going back to wearing pantyhose as the cooler weather comes, so this morning she gave me a shopping list which required a trip to Victoria’s Secret to get her four pair of pantyhose (Lisa really likes their pantyhose, although at $14.00 a pair, I think they are expensive).

I approached the counter and told the saleswoman why I was there, and of course, she smiled and thought it was great. Two customers nearby also thought it was fantastic that my wife sent me out to buy her pantyhose. The four of us had a conversation about my situation, my duties, and my status as a househusband. Each of these women thought I was the greatest thing since sliced bread. When I mentioned that my wife had a real estate agency, one of the women asked if I had one of her cards (which I always carry). I gave this woman Lisa’s card since the woman said she is in the market for a home.

Then it was off to the hair salon to get Lisa’s shampoo and styling gel. I usually dread going there because the woman who owns this salon likes to tease and embarrass me. Also, I made the mistake of going there after Victoria’s Secret, so I walked into the salon with the VS bag. The salon owner saw the bag and said loudly, “Oh, it’s you, the little househusband, how are you? Aww, did she send you out to buy her underwear?” I nodded yes.

Let me see what you bought her,” she said, so I handed her the bag. “Oh, pantyhose, isn’t that nice.” Several of the stylists were standing at the desk, and they all started giggling and smiling and making little comments. Finally the owner just said, “We love teasing you, you know that, don’t you?”

Now that I think about it, being teased by these attractive women was very exciting. Even now a few days later, I almost can’t wait to go back. As far as my name, it’s an honor to be known as Mr. Lisa.

A NEW INTIMATE SERVICE

MR. LISA: Last night as I was cleaning the kitchen, I was thinking to myself, what more can I do for my wife. I do so much for her now, but I want to do more. What other ways can I pamper her and make her life easier?

I asked Lisa yesterday if there was something more I could do to make her life easier. She told me that she really hates shaving her legs and that if I could come up with a system to do it for her, it would be great. Actually I’ve done this before for her, but never on a routine basis. What I want to do is to turn it from a chore to a relaxing pampering experience for her each morning.

I was thinking of doing it on a massage table right after her shower. She could lie down and relax for a few minutes while I shaved and lotioned her legs. This would probably take no more than ten minutes, but it would save her an equal number of minutes in the shower, plus relieve her of a tedious job. We already have a massage table in her spa room that I could use.

PROMOTING THE COMING MATRIARCHY

MR. LISA: I truly believe that the tides are changing, and a world where women rule is an inevitability. It is our responsibility to nurture this idea and help make other men know that there is nothing wrong with women being in charge. In fact, it should be emphasized how much better things would be if women were in charge of just about everything.

(End of two-parter on the Matriarchal Marriage of Mrs. Lisa)

 

The Empress Arises

[Editor’s Note: At one time I made a point of collecting every new book about female-led, female-dominated and female-supremacist marriages. These days (I’m happy to note) there seem to be too many such to keep track of, let alone afford and read.

[The Empress Arises appeared in 2011, co-authored by “Ivy Ann and Bobbi Rigger”* and self-published by Lulu. In the text, Ivy Ann is identified as “an important professor of history and women’s studies at a certain University that we won’t name” and “Bobbi” as a “stay-at-home househusband.” Alas, the book seems to have vanished from all online sources, along with the obviously cybernamed co-authors. All I could unearth was a screen-shot of the Lulu product page preserved by the Wayback Machine  (reproduced here). Fortunately, I did manage to squirrel away a few excerpts from the book’s opening chapters, excerpts that provide some provocative details about the female-ascendant couple’s courtship, marriage and domestic lifestyle.

[I will, of course, promptly “unpublish” these copyrighted excerpts upon request from the Riggers or their representatives (I would dearly love to be contacted!). On the other hand, if there is no such request but sufficient interest from blog readers, I may decide to share additional excerpts from The Empress Arises.—Thomas Lavalle]

A Typical Day at the Rigger House

(From The Empress Arises by Ivy Ann and Bobbi Rigger)

From the outside, our marriage would seem pretty conventional. Oh, there are a few things that may excite the interest of our neighbors in the little suburb where we live. For instance, it is Ivy Ann Rigger who goes out to work every morning, and Robert is a stay-at-home househusband. But that’s not nearly as unusual as it once was. In fact, it is getting more common every day. But, on the inside, things are very different.

To explain, let’s walk through a normal day in our lives.

It’s a warm spring Wednesday morning at our house. At five-thirty, Robert (Bobbi) gets up while Ivy stays in bed for a few more minutes snooze. So far, nothing’s unusual about our routine. After all, lots of husbands get up before their wives. But if someone were to peek through the windows, she might be startled to see that Bobbi is wearing only a long, light pajama top without pants. Still, maybe you could explain that by the fact that it is warm at the moment And, actually, if it were the middle of winter, we’d see that Bobbi was more conventionally dressed for the cold. But right now, he gets up and his knees and legs are bare. He slips on a light robe and heads for the kitchen.

There he checks to make sure everything is ready. The coffee is brewing. Breakfast fixings are ready. Ivy likes a single poached egg in the morning and a slice of toast. It’ll be ready when she comes to the table. He made her lunch the night before but now he checks to make certain it is prepared properly. She likes to take a sandwich rather than eat out for her lunches. It gives her more time to work at her desk.

Then Bobbi checks the time. He still has a few minutes. So, he sits down at the kitchen table for a preparatory cup of coffee before the day. It is then that our observer, peeking through the window, might see another odd thing. When he sits, Bobbi pulls the tail of his robe and shirt to one side and places his flesh against the cold plastic of the kitchen chair. Maybe, if our spy had seen The Story of O, it might remind her of the scene when O does the same with her dress. And if our spy was really looking, or had a pair of binoculars, she might notice something really odd. On Bobbi’s left buttock there is a small tattoo. It reads “IAR.”

At ten till six, Bobbi gets busy. He stands and begins boiling the egg. He also pours a cup of coffee and takes it to Ivy Ann where she is just now waking up. He speaks softly, “It’s almost six, Lady mine.” She stirs and slowly sits up in the bed. He gives her the coffee. She takes it and mumbles, “Christ…”

He smiles and heads back to the kitchen. Again, there’s nothing new or unusual here. Lots of husbands bring their wives coffee in the morning. Even very masculine, very commanding ones do. It’s chivalrous. Nor is there anything too odd about what happens next. He sets the table and waits until he hears the shower go on. Then he starts boiling the egg.

When she comes dressed to the table a few minutes later, everything is set. The egg waits for her, as does a glass of fresh orange juice. She sits and he pours her coffee. She thanks him. He stands attentively. She sips the juice and, after a second, nods. He slides into the chair across from her.

Some mornings, when she is still sleepy, they are silent. This morning, though, she is awake and energetic. “We’ll finally be hiring a European specialist today,” she tells him. He smiles and sits quietly, only speaking when she speaks to him, or when he feels that a well-formed question or comment will show he is paying attention. “That’s so interesting...” or “I’m sure you’re right…”

She may also give a few quick instructions for the day. “Remember to put those checks in the bank,” she says. “And the car needs an oil change.” He nods at each instruction. Then she pauses, thinks for a bit and adds, “Oh, and for your special treat, I have some underwear that needs to be hand-washed.”

After her breakfast, she rises. It’s time for her to leave. She wants to be in the office at seven-thirty. While she brushes her teeth and makes a few last-minute changes to her hair, he collects her briefcase and stands waiting for her by the door. She appears shortly after that. She looks him up and down.

Then, if it is any day but Wednesday, she walks to him, reaches under his robe and shirt, and gives his penis and testicles a firm squeeze. With her other hand, she reaches up and takes him behind the head. She pulls him down and forward. They kiss passionately. And, if it is any weekday but Wednesday, she releases him, saying, “Have a good day, babe,” and goes out to her car.

Our spy at the window would be a bit startled by this, but she’d be truly amazed if it is Wednesday. On Wednesdays, things are a little different. On Wednesdays, she waits at the door. She taps her foot once. He drops instantly to his knees, leans forward to grovel before her and put his head on the top of her shoe.

They wait for a long moment. Finally, she raises the toe of her shoe. He rolls back up to his knees, but remains kneeling. She pets his head and says, “Good boy.” He stays on the floor, with his eyes down and not looking at her until she leaves.

When he hears her car door close, he stands and begins his day.

Ivy drives to work. She is an important professor of history and women’s studies at a certain University that we won’t name. She is tenure track and on the way up. She also makes a surprisingly large sum of money. That’s not true for most academics. But Ivy is a star in her profession. Thus, she is one of the small, but real group of professors who has a six-figure income. She has also inherited money from her grandmother. Thus, she is the only real breadwinner in the family. Bobbi is very much dependent on her economically and has been for years.

lvy spends the day teaching classes and working on her next book, a path-breaking new study of how upper-middle class women reshaped the luxury cruise industry in the early twentieth century. The role of female consumers during the period is tragically unexplored, and her book will almost certainly be regarded as a classic in the field.

Bobbi likewise has a busy day. As soon as she is out of the house, he quickly fixes himself a light breakfast and then gets to work. First, he washes the dishes and straightens up the kitchen, Then, he hurriedly does any outstanding housework that needs to be done. He likes to get that finished early in the day. He vacuums the front room, makes the bed, puts a load of laundry in the washer, and so on. All of this he does in his pajamas, still without a pair of pants.

Then, the “special treat.” He finds the underwear she mentioned. She has left them in a separate hamper in the bedroom. There are red panties, black panties, and white cotton panties. These he takes to the downstairs laundry sink and carefully, lovingly, washes them by hand.

When he is finished, he checks the time. It is only 10:00! Excellent. At last, he can dress. He slips on
slacks and a shirt and then heads out to take care of his outside chores. He goes to the bank, as he has been instructed, and then visits the franchise oil change and lube job place by the library. A short time later, he does the grocery shopping and returns home. If it were Monday, Tuesday, or Friday, he would then go to work. He is a counter clerk at a little cafe and sandwich shop in the next suburb over, “The Wee Nook.” On those days he pulls a twelve-to-four shift, taking orders and making coffee for the chic suburban matrons of the area. He’s very good at his job, and he’s popular with the customers. For one thing, he’s boyish and handsome, and hid body is in great shape, and the customers frequently put quite respectable tips in the jar on the counter.

His boss, Ms. Lisa Grandview, has tried to promote him to manager three times, but each time he’s demurred. He does not want to be in any position that might give him authority. At first, Ms. Grandview had been quite perplexed, but then Ivy Ann had a chat with her, and everything was settled. “Of course,” Ms. Grandview had said. “It’s so natural.”

But today is Wednesday, so instead he goes to the gym. It is his duty to keep fit and trim for his wife. Three times a week he exercises briskly, and he is constantly on a diet. In fact, today he skips lunch entirely. He mustn’t chunk up, he knows.

Finished, he showers. Now, if our spy had followed him to the gym, and even somehow managed to look into the men’s showers, she would have been amazed again. She’d notice that each of Bobbi’s nipples has been pierced and there is a small golden ring in each of them. As the soap covers his chest he winces in pain, but also feels them grow erect under his fingers. He gives himself a playful tweak on both.

Once done he rushes home. He prepares dinner. She usually allows him to decide on the menu. It is one of his little freedoms. So he turns to it. Tonight it will be something a little more elegant than usual. It is a little tradition they have. They call it “the Wednesday Night Special.” Tonight it will be a small steak that he’s carefully prepared.

When everything is ready, he dresses in something nice. Sometimes, when they are being formal, it is a suit. Sometimes she prefers a costume. He has several. Her favorite is The Delivery Boy. Tonight, though, he has been told to go almost nude. He will wear a tight, spandex swimsuit and nothing else. He squeezes into them, his testicles and penis becoming a tight bulge beneath the cloth.

She arrives home. He hurries to the door to meet her. When she is in, he drops once more to the floor and touches her shoe. “Up,” she says, slightly impatiently. He is quick to rise. “God,” she says, “I’m tired. Long day.”

He takes her things and follows her to the front room. She sits in the big chair and he brings her a drink. Then he puts on music and sits attentively on the sofa. She tells him about her day. “We have this really awful graduate student. He is older, and he has the fantastic idea that I should treat him with respect.” He listens and is very careful to murmur soft agreements.

When she is ready for dinner, he serves her. If she is pleased with him, she nods, and he sits and eats. “Very good,” she says finally. Then he pours her a glass of wine and she goes to the bedroom. He quickly takes care of the dishes. He already has an erection. It pushes painfully into the cloth of the spandex suit.

He waits until he hears her ring the bell beside her bed. He quickly enters the bedroom. She is standing at the end of the room. She wears black panties and an open cup corset, and on her feet arc stilettos. “Down,” she commands.

Once more he sinks to the ground. He places his forehead on the carpet.

“Crawl,” she commands. He slowly makes his way across the room, keeping his face to the floor. He
reaches her feet. He kisses them.

“Who am I?” she demands.

He raises his lips from her toe. “You are my empress.”

“And?”

“My mistress and my master.”

“Forever?”

“Forever, my Lady.”

She allows him to rise to his knees. “Use your teeth,” she says.

Tenderly, keeping his hands at his sides, he uses his teeth and lips to pull her black panties down her thighs. He is very, very careful.

His tongue darts into her vagina. He touches her clit once, then pulls away. He begins again, this time at the base of her vagina and moves slowly up its long length. Once more he comes to the clit. He stimulates it with long, lingering licks.

“Good boy,” she pats his head. “Now,” she sits on the bed, “come here.”

At her direction, he climbs into the bed and lies on his back. She quickly ties his hands to the bedposts with short lengths of blue cloth. Once he is helpless, she climbs atop him and leans down to his face. Her breasts are above him. “Pleasure me,” she commands.

Sometimes straining against the bonds, he lifts his head up to her nipples. His tongue touches them and licks desperately. “That’s a good boy,” she says. “Keep at it.”

She lowers herself down into his face. His lips and mouth close on first one nipple and then the other. Left, right, left, right!

She rears up again, scoots backwards on his body until she is sitting on his groin. She reaches forward and takes his small, man’s nipples between her fingers. “Your turn,” she says. With a gasp, he feels her fingers close on his nipples. There is a burst of pain as she touches the gold rings that pass through them. He whimpers. But it is pleasure rather than pain. He feels his nipples grow almost as hard as hers.

She shifts back further still. She is now astride his legs. She reaches forward and takes his penis in one hand and his testicles in the other. She holds them, not so hard that it hurts, but firmly enough that he knows she could hurt him if she wishes.

“Who am I?” she asks again.

“My lady and master,” he replies.

“And what have you promised to do?”

“To love, honor and obey you.”

“Excellent.”

And then she repositions herself. She feeds his penis into her vagina. “Stay still!” she warns him. He obeys.

For a moment, they are still. Then, slowly, slowly, she rolls herself forward, taking him deeper and deeper within her. She rolls back, crushing his testicles with her buttocks. She rolls forward, and then she moves to first one side and then the other.

He moans.

“Still!” she commands again. He stays still, utterly passive.

Then she moves faster. And faster! She rolls forward and back! She moves from side to side! He moans in helpless delight!

Suddenly she rears her head back and roars! She has her orgasm! She is dominant and triumphant! She
is his master! And her body explodes with the pleasure! And with conquest! Then she tenses her vagina one last time. He feels her crush his manhood deep within her. And he comes! He feels himself explode upward into her! His mind vanishes in a great flash of pleasure! He is hers! He is utterly hers!

He is mindless. She rolls off him.

In time, she releases him. They sleep together in each other’s arms.

* “Bobbi” Rigger was evidently regarded by Dr. Ivy Ann as her “wife.” The actual title page reads: The Empress Arises: A Guide to the Female Dominant Marriage for Her and for Him by Dr. Ivy Ann Rigger with Mrs. Ivy Ann Riger (nee Robert Smith)

(End of post. First published on m blog in July 2019. More excerpts to come.)