ZOE: FROM MATTY TO MAX

(In her previous post, “Growing Up in a Gynarchic Family,” Miss Zoe mentioned, almost as an aside, her “first sub-hubby, Matty.” In this follow-up posting, Miss Zoe explains how that first gynarchic or matriarchal marriage came about, and then gives us a short summary of some main female-led events in the years since. BTW, Zoe has also indicated her willingness, within her professional time constraints, to respond to selected questions from open-minded readers concerning her female-first lifestyle.)

MISS ZOE:

I was happily married to Matty for four years. We married when I was 23 and in my first job as a newly qualified lawyer. He was 34 and very handsome.

His job was as a ‘Gofer’ in one of my mummy’s hair salons. He answered the phone, made coffee for clients, swept up after a client left, cleaned the ladies’ toilet and did shopping errands for the stylists. He was a “good boy” and very obedient.

I loved my job and was always busy. My mom bought me an apartment in a converted box-making factory near the river (note: the Thames, as we were living in London). She suggested I get someone to help with housework as I was always living in a mess. She suggested that Matty could come round once or twice a week to dust and vacuum, wash up the dirty dishes, tidy the apartment and generally be a help.

This went on for a while and one day I needed a ‘’plus one’’ for a social event at work. I invited Matty to accompany me. He was such a cute partner and we laughed and danced and had such fun.

We dated for a while and one day I sat him down and explained all about the gynarchy lifestyle and my family’s strongly held views on how women and men should live together. He would have to ask permission for anything he wanted to do, he would wear a CB6000 chastity device and he would be allowed release at least twice a year – on my and his birthdays, with my permission.

He understood and agreed. Fortunately, his job had already accustomed him to being in a very inferior position with the women hairstylists. and he was happy that if we got serious, he would be the submissive and lesser partner.

We married in a quiet Registry Office ceremony with our parents, our siblings and some friends. Our vows were gynarchy ones and he promised to obey and I promised to protect. Afterwards the twenty of us went to a local pub for a meal and chat. No speeches, no big fuss.

Matty wore a blue suit and I wore a long white dress with some flowers in my hair. It was such fun, and we laughed all night. That night he was allowed to make love without his CB6000, and he was a sweet and considerate lover.

At home we got quickly into a good routine. He did the food shopping, the dusting and vacuuming, the washing and ironing, all the house stuff. I gave him his chores and controlled the money and the life we had. His opinions were agreed with mine, he responded at once to me clicking my fingers and he was altogether a good sissy.

We were happy. I got pregnant and we had a lovely daughter, Anna. Matty was her caregiver and daddy. It worked perfectly for us.

When I was 29, I got promotion to be a Senior Partner and the pressure began to build. If Matty was slow or gave me an attitude, I would punish him severely. If he was weepy or needy, I would slap him and shout at him.

I travelled a lot and was often off to our offices in the USA and Canada or Malaysia and Singapore or Australia and New Zealand. I was having a great time and making a great deal of money. My salary was 6 figures and my bonus put me in the 7-figure range. Matty tried his best, and I loved him and still thought he was a great husband and father.

Temptations were around though, and I had lots of fun with other guys. Matty knew about these friendships and often I would bring some handsome guy home to chill and have fun.

Matty would serve them and be an obedient sissy slave.

However, there was one guy I met who I began to feel serious about.

His name was Max.

I dated him exclusively for about 6 months before he moved in with Matty and me and it was so exciting and fun.

Max was a Gynarchy boy. His family consisted of three girls and his parents. He did the chores, he obeyed his sisters and helped their dad, who was the family slave. After a while I realised that Max was doing a lot of the work in my apartment.

Max asked my permission before he did anything, and if I was praising Matty for a job well done, Max would get jealous and act up.

Once Matty was kissing my feet in the kitchen whilst Max prepared supper. He looked over and asked Matty to help by peeling some spuds.

‘’Max, don’t give Matty orders, he is doing fine where he is. Don’t be jealous, babe.’’

‘’But ma’am, I do all the cooking and he has all the foot worship action, it is just not fair, sorry.’’

‘’Max, be quiet. Matty is a good boy. Aren’t you, Matty, aren’t you a good boy.’’

Matty: ‘’Thank you, goddess. I will help Max if you want me to. I love to help in the kitchen.’’

I went to have a shower, whilst Max and Matty worked on supper.

After a few months I realised I needed to choose. I didn’t need two sissy slaves.

Max won. Matty was sold.

Max is now my sissy slave, and Matty belongs to a Frenchwoman and lives the Gynarchy lifestyle in Paris. I am a friend of his owner, Isobel, and I hear he is very happy.

Max is at my feet as I type. He is worshipping my stinky gym feet.

Such a good boy.

*