DEBRA’S SON: SERVING MY SISTER BEFORE MEETING MY GYNARCHIC WIFE

[Note from Thomas Lavalle: “Debra’s Son” previously shared his reminiscences of growing up in a matriarchal, Goddess-worshipping home. Here he describes his early years before his current wife-led marriage.]

As I described before, I had what I think was an ideal matriarchal childhood, and the credit goes to my wonderful mother. I still believe in the principles she taught me with all my heart and soul, but I’m ashamed to say there was a period in my life, during my college years, when I not only doubted, but virtually repudiated them.

Mom provided college funds for my younger sisters and me, but mine came with a special proviso. While my sisters would be allowed to go anywhere they wished, I was to go to a local university and commute there and back home each night. My mother told me this was so I could continue helping dad raise my sisters who weren’t quite adults yet, but it was obvious the main purpose was to keep me grounded in matriarchal principles. I was also required to learn something practical and profitable, so I studied accounting and finance, following in my father’s footsteps.

My mother was right to be concerned. Even though I came home from school every night and never developed any overt anti-matriarchal behavior, I encountered a very different male/female dynamic at college. The macho aggressive ways of the men, and the submissiveness of the women they dated, were jarring at first. At my home, the women were sex-positive in that they were aware of and made use of their feminine wiles and physical attributes—that was nature’s way of giving them more power over the "troublesome sex." At school, however, women used their femininity as a means of submission rather than empowerment. Of course, I was aware of this just by having grown up in contemporary culture, but still, seeing it all up close began to influence me. Over time, I decided that maybe Mom was wrong. Although I never spoke of it or acted on it, I decided secretly that I no longer believed what I’d been taught, and that once I graduated, I’d go off and live a more “traditional” patriarchal life.

That changed not too long after I finished my last year of school. The oldest of my sisters (I’ll call her Jill), who is two years younger than I, had gone away to another university. While there, intentionally or not, she became pregnant. She was delighted by the prospect of being a mom, so there was no question that she’d carry to term. She was planning to marry a submissive man, the son of one of my mom’s friends, when he was tragically killed in a plane crash. My sister was devastated. My matriarchal upbringing kicked in and completely drove out any thoughts I had of living a different, more traditional life. I came back home to temporarily help her get back on her feet. 

Before I go on, I want to make a point that’s perhaps obvious, but important to reiterate, I think. We, as matriarchist or gynarchist or female supremacist males, in whatever degree, tend to concentrate on serving and benefiting strong, assertive females, and of course we should. But no girl or woman is always in a state of physical and mental well-being. I believe it’s one of our tasks as men to help them get back to their rightful places as mistresses and rulers of our personal and public lives. I don’t claim to be good at it, I only try.

It happened that I had recently inherited a modest house from an uncle on my father’s side, and because there was some tension at the time between my sister and Mom, I moved Jill in with me. As my father before me, I worked out of my home, offering financial services. Because I wanted to get Jill back to the woman she was raised to be, I began setting up a matriarchal household and providing her with emotional support to the best of my ability. It was amazing how fast she “took over” in a literal sense. Even though it was my house, I was soon living as my sister’s total servant. I was butler, cook, housekeeper, valet, errand boy and, occasionally, whipping boy. Although Mom didn’t believe in corporal punishment, my sister did. For one thing, her submissive fiancé had expected it, and for another, I think disciplining me helped her work through a lot of resentment and anger. Her canings were not too severe, and besides, I was a big boy, I could take it.

On Jill’s due date, she gave birth to fraternal twin girls. So, in addition to everything else, I was going to be a nanny. Fortunately, I had a lot of experience from helping dad raise my sisters. I remodeled my bedroom into a nursery with all the amenities, including two cribs. I slept there to be on call whenever they needed changing, feeding, etc. Jill bonded with them very closely as well, and was a fine mother. 

After the babies were born, Mom lightened up and things were good between her and Jill again. She, my dad, and my youngest sister fell in love with their grandchildren and nieces and visited and helped when they could. Mom told me I was doing the right thing and basically ordered me to care for and serve Jill for as long as she wanted. My sister slowly got back on track and became her old strong, assertive self again. However, rather than go back to school right away, she wanted to pursue a passion of hers, photography. She was talented and after a time she started getting some work and doing okay. Jill never desired to marry but she always had an active dating life, and sometimes a steady boyfriend for awhile. I babysat the girls whenever she’d go out, and stay in the background performing my role as nanny and housekeeper when her boyfriend came over.

I had originally intended our situation to be temporary, but time went on and soon Jill’s daughters were toddlers (I’ll call them Ashley and Jenna), and I was caught up in taking care of them, obeying Jill, and working from home. I was so busy I didn’t have time for any personal life at all, but I was happy to serve. Jill naturally fell into her role as a young matriarch, and she laid down some ground rules over time. Although Jenna and Ashley knew I was their uncle, Jill felt it was best that they call me by my first name, David. From the time they could speak well, I heard my name constantly: “David, bring me orange juice.” “David, Mom said you had to [fill in the blank]!” “David, help me find my shoes -- NOW!” as well as the common sibling rivalry stuff like, “David, Ashley’s pulling my hair!” They were so cute, but just like their mother and aunt years before, they ran me ragged. The years went by so fast. One time, Ashley, the more assertive of the two, at eleven years old, told me to sit down. She said, “We need to talk.” She lectured me about how I must immediately alter my behavior on a whole range of issues, from the way I prepared her food to how I laundered her clothes to how I embarrassed her in front of her friends when I shuttled them to the shopping center or some such place.

 Jenna was more of a princess. She liked fashion and girly things, and she liked to practice cosmetology (aka “play beauty salon”). She wanted me to keep my hair long so she could style it. For awhile I looked like one of the guys from Cinderella, the ‘80s metal band. I also had the honor of being the first person whose ears she ever pierced. You’d think the way I ended up looking would be bad for my home business, but a lot of my clients liked the novelty of a “headbanger accountant.”

Jill disciplined the girls as she was disciplined herself, with time-outs, etc., and of course I never disciplined them at all, other than what it took to keep them safe and teach them to get along in the world. She never used corporal punishment on them. She continued to use it on me—in private—and became more strict with me in other ways. I think it was because she enjoyed the stability I provided and rightly wanted to keep the power she had gained. She demanded total obedience. If I disobeyed in any way or talked back (and sometimes I did, I’m human) she’d dress me down hard in front of the girls and sometimes slap me, to make sure they understood that male disobedience and insolence were not to be tolerated. Looking back, I think it was especially effective due to the fact that Jill was a petite, sexy 5’ 3’’ and I was a 6’ 2’’ fairly well-built male (albeit slightly feminized by my fashion-conscious niece, lol). They understood that no matter the size difference between men and women, a woman had the right, and, in this dangerous world, the duty to control the men in her life. Ashley and Jenna grew up to be strong, confident women, and while Ashley is probably more overtly matriarchal than Jenna, both understand that whatever type of man a woman might prefer for fun, she’s in for trouble if she settles down with an aggressive, dominant man.

Jill’s other rules for me included the complete management of my personal time as well. I had to ask permission to go anywhere and was told what time to be back. I was forbidden to date and required to remain celibate. Macho male friends and any hobbies that might bring me in contact with them were forbidden, and no drugs, even weed or alcohol, ever. I was to maintain a healthy diet and an early bedtime when my work and chores were done. I was to control my temper and exhibit a gentle, compliant, yet helpful and cheerful attitude at all times. The sole purpose of all my behavior was to set an ideal example of a submissive male for Ashley and Jenna. It was agreed that I’d take care of the finances because that was my field, but other than some investments and savings to keep us secure, all other income went directly to Jill. When the girls became adolescents they received a substantial allowance, which increased progressively as they got older. Personally I lived a very ascetic life and spent only enough on myself for the bare necessities. When I saw that things were stable and I was going to be my sister’s servant indefinitely, I put my house in her name. 

Jill rarely had to lift a finger during all the years I was with her. Her photography career prospered and by the time the girls were teens she was making good money. By the time they left home she was traveling a lot for her job and had a steady boyfriend in the same field. I sort of felt like a fifth wheel by that point. I felt my job was done, and I asked her for release. Somewhat surprisingly, she gave it. She insisted I keep half of the savings and investments I had accrued, and divide the other half between her and a trust fund for the girls. I felt Jill was very generous. If she had demanded it, I would have left with nothing, because I could have started again and re-established myself. I would have considered it a matter of pride.

So, I bought myself a place in a nearby small town and continued my work. But personally, I felt really lonely and at a loss. Here I was, the proverbial 40-year-old virgin with virtually no romantic experience, and no prospects. I wanted an FLR, but the dominant women I knew from my younger days were not available. But there was always the Internet. It took a long time to find someone authentic, but finally I met a young millennial woman who seemed more knowledgeable and comfortable with gynarchic principles than anyone I’d ever known. We’ve been married now for five years, have a ten-year-old son and a six-year-old daughter, and despite our age difference, she’s extremely adept being in charge. I’ll describe my life today in subsequent installments.

—Deb