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.)

The Matriarchal Marriage of Ms. & Mr. Lisa, Part 1

[From Thomas Lavalle: Outside of Elise Sutton’s wonderful Female Superiority website, one of the richest sources of “Real life Stories" of femdom or role-reversal marriages was the now-defunct message board called Spousechat (or sometimes Spouseclub). Created in 2001 as a networking support group for men wed to high-powered female executives, the message board was in short order taken over by passionate advocates for “matriarchal marriages” (i.e., what are now commonly called wife-led marriages or female-led relationships.

Spousechat was deactivated without explanation in 2003. The complete archive continued to be viewable for several years before being taken down, and it subsequently vanished even from the Internet Archive. Fortunately for us, Mark Remond saved sizable chunks of the role-reversal postings; these can still be accessed on his Worshipping Your Wife website.

The excerpts below—all from “Charles” (aka “Mr. Lisa”— are sourced from there with Mark’s kind permission.]

HOW IT ALL GOT STARTED

CHARLES: I’ve been a househusband since Lisa and I got married 5 years ago. From the moment we met, she was in total charge of everything. I was working as a personal assistant to a real estate agent (female) who introduced me to Lisa (my wife). Lisa owns an extremely successful real estate agency. She and I dated for about 9 months and then got married. Lisa, and her career, quickly became the most important thing in my life. I adapted quickly to the role of househusband, probably because I had been accustomed to working for a female boss.

When I met Lisa, I really didn’t have much of a choice as to my role. If I wanted to be with her, I was just going to have to accept the subordinate role. There are a lot of men out there these days who feel as I do, that the woman can and should be the leader.

Every day is a new challenge. I must stay focused on pleasing Lisa and remember that what is good for her career benefits the both of us. I like to think that I do play a part in her success. Even when ironing her skirts in the morning, I do it with the attitude that it will enhance her day. We men need the direction of a strong, confident, assertive woman.

MS. JENNIFER S: If Charles was my secretary. He’d have to wear tailored suits and have impeccable grooming. He’d have my coffee and Wall Street Journal on my desk before I arrived for work. He would take dictation. He would have to make all of my personal appointments such as hair, nails and tanning for me. He would call me Ms. S and answer “yes ma’am” when given an instruction. He would accompany me to business meetings to carry my briefcase for me. He would run all types of errands for me, both business and personal. He would pick up and drop off my dry cleaning, get my car washed, and shop for me when I needed him too. Interested in the job, Charles?

CHARLES: Ms. Jennifer S, Actually, at my last job I did nearly all of these things for my boss. Her name was Susan and she was truly an incredible woman. Although she was a very demanding woman, she actually made it a pleasure to do all of these things for her.

PREPARING AND SERVING A DINNER PARTY

CHARLES: The first time I served my wife and her friends at a dinner party, it was difficult. However, each time after it got easier, and I got better. Now, it is so easy that all my wife has to do is tell me when and how many guests.

I am subordinate to Lisa, she is in charge, her decisions are final. Sometimes, at her dinner parties, I am
treated much like a waiter or butler, but I’m used to it. I wait on Lisa hand and foot all the time as she is a busy woman. Why should a woman like Lisa have to ever lift a finger around the house except to direct her subordinate husband?

Being a househusband is a demanding role, but each success my wife has makes it all worth it. As I complete my daily tasks, I constantly keep in mind the effect these tasks, no matter how small, will have on the quality of her life. The fact that her skirts and blouses are ironed to perfection hopefully plays a small part in her success.

COOKING

CHARLES: I get all my recipes from Foodtv.com. They’ve got about 20,000 recipes. The main question a househusband has to answer is, is his ruling wife pleased with his cooking? If so, then he is doing his job. If not, then he has to work to improve. That may mean taking some cooking classes, which is what I did.

I’ve also taken other classes over the years, such as manicuring/pedicuring, facials/skin care and massage. It’s all about pleasing your wife.

I would highly recommend any househusband be sent to school for manicuring, pedicuring, and skin care. It is so much more convenient and less time-consuming for Lisa to have me do these things than for her to have to go to a salon. Plus, it’s a fantastic way to show my devotion to her and my place in the relationship. When I’m at her feet polishing her toenails, she really enjoys the sense of power and control, knowing that at that moment in time, the only thing that matters to me is the perfect application of nail polish to her toes. I’ve also been to massage school, and Lisa enjoys being able to come home to a massage a few nights a week.

TAKING HER NAME

CHARLES: My name since marriage is Charles “Smith” (not Lisa’s actual last name). I took it from the beginning. Women have always taken their husband’s last name, so I don’t see what the big deal is.

We did not announce it to the world, but those who knew us certainly knew I was going to take her name, and they were all cool about it. The bottom line is, of course, that it was Lisa’s decision.

THE COMING MATRIARCHY

CHARLES: Most of the top students in the schools I’m familiar with are women. These women will all have successful careers. But just think how much easier it would be for them, and how much more successful they would be, if they had supporting husbands staying at home. Unfortunately, most of them, if they marry, will marry husbands with their own careers. These women will not be able to concentrate as effectively on their own careers. When they get home from work, they will still have to worry about household duties. Instead, they should be coming home to a nice dinner, a hot bath, and a clean house, all prepared by their supportive husbands.

Who is teaching our young men that it is acceptable to take a supportive role, that it’s OK to be a househusband? Nobody is. It would be cool if somewhere in their education, young men were exposed to life as a househusband, perhaps in a Home Ec course like high school girls were in the old days. Make it mandatory. In fact, let’s go a step farther. Men need to be exposed to the idea of being a househusband at an early age, and need to be told that it is a serious option for them to consider.

In a store once, I saw and college-age woman and her boyfriend shopping for shoes. This young woman

was having a conversation on her cell phone and she was discussing (not that I was eavesdropping) some kind of a complicated engineering research project, which sounded like something to do with biomedical engineering. While she was heavily involved in this conversation, she’d point to various shoes she wanted to try on and her boyfriend would scurry off and get them for her in her size and then try them on her feet. How can we encourage this to become the norm rather than the exception?

A TYPICAL DAY

CHARLES: A typical day goes like this. I get up first, make coffee, sit down and have a cup while reading the paper. Lisa gets up, I get her coffee, then I get her breakfast, which is usually just cereal or fruit. As she eats her breakfast, I make sure she has towels for her shower and all of her hair and body-care products ready. As she showers, I get her clothes ready, making sure they are pressed. I lay her clothes on the bed. As she is a fanatic about shoes, I usually shine the pair she has selected for the day, if they need it.

As she dresses, I clean up the kitchen. She will then give me a list of errands she needs done (she usually writes them out for me so I don’t forget) before she leaves for work.

My day then consists of typical househusband duties—cleaning, laundry, ironing, grocery shopping, cooking, and running Lisa’s errands. Typical errands include shopping for any items she may need, getting her car washed, picking up her dry cleaning, and so on. As far as meals, since I know what Lisa likes, I plan all the meals. She doesn’t have time for this. She doesn’t inspect my housework. However, if something is not the way she wants it, she’s not hesitant about letting me know.

When Lisa gets home, I serve dinner, we eat and talk. Lisa and I constantly communicate with each other, and if there is a problem, she will listen to my side. She has the final decision, of course, but she does not totally ignore my input.

After dinner I clean up while Lisa relaxes with a cup of tea or a glass of wine. She is usually on the phone for a while taking care of business. Since she has so little time, I take care of a lot of her personal needs such as manicures, pedicures, and facials. At her insistence, I’ve attended schools to learn these things. Manicures are usually once a week, same for pedicures, although I also usually do a polish change for her in between. I give her various massages to relax her. I’ve also learned facials and other skin care.

All these things give us a lot of time to talk and communicate. As women advance higher and higher in their career, househusbands will find that they will be doing more and more simply because these high-powered women just will not have the time. But then again, that’s what househusbands are for.

I am constantly busy because my wife, like most career-minded women, is very demanding and particular about how she wants things done. I would say I work as much, and probably more, hours per week than most men who have outside careers.

WHO ORDERS, WHO PAYS?

CHARLES: At restaurants Lisa lets me order for myself, but she pays. On vacations, I have to make the reservations in Lisa’s name because she is the one with the credit cards (I have one with a small limit for emergencies and such).

CHARLES: Regarding our sex life, I keep Lisa happy because I put her pleasure before mine. It’s thatsimple. She always decides when, where, and how, and has no problem finding creative ways for me to please her. Lisa is absolutely breathtaking, so I don’t think anyone will ever be referring to me as a “trophy husband” when they see us together. However, to her, and to all of her female friends, I am a “trophy,” if not at least a “prize.”

I know many men would kill to be in my shoes, but I assure you that there are many, many powerful, assertive, successful women out there, and if a man wants to meet one of these women, he can. From there, it’s up to him to show her the joys of life with a subordinate mate.

CHARLES: I’ve told Lisa about this website [i.e., “Spousechat”] and showed her a few of the posts. I’m working on her, trying to get her find some time to write down some of her thoughts for me to post. Perhaps the next time I’m giving her a pedicure or something where she can’t move, I’ll hand her a pad and paper.

I apologize, if at times I don’t give a complete answer. I too am still learning, even after all these years. And I really am trying my best to completely answer all of the questions people, especially women, ask. If I have fallen short in some respects, remember, I am a man, and like all men, I need guidance from a woman. I will try to do better in the future. I am going to try to do better, and surrender more completely to both Lisa at home, and to the female posters here.

It is difficult for men to give up our former power because men are afraid. We have to be taught that women are not looking to eliminate the male sex, but rather to take care of the men, provide for them, and protect them, in exchange for, essentially, a total transfer of power to the woman and total obedience to the woman, to ensure that all of her needs and wants, no matter how small, are met. In return, she will earn a living and take care of the man

ARGUING

CHARLES: We do have disagreements and differences. While I am subordinate to Lisa, there are times when I do dare to argue with her. However, most of the time (probably 99 percent) she is right.

When she’s angry with me, I have found that she tends to objectify me. That is, she tends to treat me like her employee and talks to me only to give direction. This is her way of showing her displeasure to me. Fortunately for me, Lisa is quick to forgive me and most of our arguments don’t last long at all.

TAKING HER NAME (more thoughts)

CHARLES: Although I took my wife’s last name when we got married, I’ve never been called Mr. Lisa “Smith” [not her actual last name], but I must admit after seeing that list in Spousechat (Mr. Betsy B. English, Mr. Catherine Morecold, Mr. Sarah McCowlick, Mr. Senator Mary Shearman, Mr. Senator Jayne Tocsin, etc.), it does make me wonder if we should not be Ms. and Mr. Lisa “Smith.” I must admit there does not seem to be a truer act of open devotion and subordination.

PREPARING AND SERVING A DINNER PARTY (more)

CHARLES: Tonight Lisa had two agents whom she recently hired coming over for dinner. It was my first time meeting them, and I must admit, as enlightened as I feel I am, the first time can still be a bit difficult.

When I greeted them at the door, I introduced myself only as “Lisa’s husband,” not saying my first name. The first woman, Cathy, did not pick up on this and asked me my name. The second woman, Terri, had a little bit of fun with me. She said, “Nice to meet you Lisa’s husband, I’m Terri. So do you have a name of your own or shall I call you ‘Lisa’s husband’ all evening?”

“Yes, it’s Charles, but I answer to ‘Lisa’s husband,’ ‘Hey you with the apron,’ or even ‘Mr. Lisa.’” Terri laughed and said, “Well, I see this is going to be fun.”

The three women sat down, I took their drink orders, got their drinks, and then went back to the kitchen to finish dinner. I made Maryland crabcakes with honey mustard sauce, a spinach salad, and herb-roasted potatoes.

How did I serve? Like a waiter, with an exceptionally servile attitude. The women absolutely loved it, and when Lisa explained our household arrangement, they loved it even more. They had lots of questions for Lisa and me over dinner, which I happily answered.

After dinner, I made coffee for them. They went into the living room and talked business for a while while I cleaned up. After cleaning up, I went in and politely asked “Will there be anything else, ladies?” Lisa’s guests thanked me and replied no. Lisa said “No, that’ll be all, but before you go to bed, Charles, go through my closet and see if you can find that orange print skirt, you know, the flowered one that I bought in St Croix last year? It’ll probably need to be ironed but you can do that in the morning, just see if you can find it tonight. I want to wear it tomorrow.”

Yes,” I replied. As I left the room., I could hear them talking: “Wow, he does your ironing too?”

By the way, Lisa hires men as well as women. She has a male receptionist, a male assistant, and four or five male agents. There are about twenty female agents. Like I said in a previous posting, the real estate industry is completely dominated by women. If any men want to know what it’s like to be a subordinate to a woman, get a job as a secretary in a real estate agency. These women are all aggressive and assertive and have no problems giving orders to men. I must say, it is more comfortable when Lisa’s guests don’t bring dates or husbands, but if they do, I’m cool with it. I act the same way, as does Lisa.

[Charles answers questions from Spousechat posters about the dinner party]

CHARLES: I hope I can adequately address all of your questions. My apron is just a basic dark green, nothing fancy, although I love the ones with feminist mottos that some of you mentioned (“I belong to Her,” “A Man’s Place Is in The Kitchen,” “Househusband,” etc.).

Yes, the topic of the name change did come up at the party, and both women guests praised me for taking Lisa’s surname, and yes, they were continually asking where they could find a man like me (both women are single and not dating currently). As Terri put it, it was very “refreshing to see a man take a back seat to a woman for a change.”

By the way, I think it’s great that Lisa hires men for traditional “female jobs” like receptionist and secretary. As I said earlier, I worked first as a receptionist, then a secretary, and then a personal assistant at a real estate agency, so I’ve had these subordinate roles with women for quite a while.

I’ve never needed to hire any help for a party, but if I did, I’m absolutely certain Lisa would want male help. At public parties, I stay by Lisa’s side, at her beck and call, so to speak.

PUBLIC EXPOSURE

CHARLES: My neighbors think I’m a great husband. They all know Lisa is in charge. Two of the neighborhood women have been over to our house numerous times and have seen what our relationship is like firsthand. As a matter of fact, Lisa has them over sometimes and I’ll do their nails or give them facials.

Being subordinate to your wife at home is one thing, but in public it takes real courage. There have been times where Lisa has left something home and I’ve had to bring it to her at her office. Once she broke a heel on one of her shoes, so she called me and told me to bring her a different pair of shoes. She described to me the ones she wanted, I located them and drove them to her office.

This happened a few years ago, and at the time I only knew a couple of the people in her office. So I got to her office with the shoes, and she was in the middle of a meeting with three of her employees whom I had not previously met. It was an informal meeting, and so her secretary let me go into her office, after first announcing that her husband was here with her shoes.

So I walked in, Lisa’s shoes in hand. She introduced me, and her employees commented on how nice it was of me to do this, and they joked with Lisa about how well she had trained me. I set Lisa’s shoes by her feet, and (I kind of knew this was going to happen), she asked me if I would put them on her. She asked in a really nice way, and the whole atmosphere in the room was very light. I guess she didn’t want to embarrass me too much, just enough to show me and her three employees that she was the boss at home as well. So, of course, like a good husband, I put Lisa’s shoes on for her, then we joked around some more before she told me to take her broken shoe to be repaired, and I left.

[End of Part One / to be continued]

Exhuming & Resuming This Blog

In 2020, I discontinued this blog, permanently as I thought. But in the years since—years that have seen too many of the original, ground-breaking FLR and female supremacy sites vanish (Uniquely Rika) or suspend posting (Femdom 101 and Around Her Finger) or rely on recycled material (the magnificent Elise Sutton)—I discovered I’d come to miss the old blog.

I missed having my mini-megaphone in my tiny corner of the WWW, and the opportunity it gave to amplify my submissive thoughts and yearnings (which will never go away). I missed the ongoing interaction with like-minded readers, obeisant submales and "empress-ive" femdommes alike.

And, of course, I keenly missed the community of like-minded guest posters, most of whom are far more advanced in this exciting lifestyle than I am or ever will be.

So (deep breath), I’ve set about re-erecting the old structure (under this new URL) and reconnecting with previous guest-posters. I hope, in the weeks and months ahead, to repopulate these pages with enticing and hyper-romantic adventures, both old and new.—Thomas Lavalle