MISS ZOE: THE HISTORY OF THE GYNARCHY, PART 2

(A further musing on life in an imaginary Arabic land run on gynarchy principles.)

In 1935 a Grand Convention was held. Representatives from every corner of the Gynarchy came to the capital city to discuss the progress of Female Supremacy, to review the laws that were enacted and to be honest about shortcomings or things that did not work.

It was an amazing event; a flavour can be seen by part of the address of President Julie Dottir:

‘’Good morning, ladies. As I watch and hear the debates this week, I am confident we can honestly review the progress of this ‘great experiment,’ the Arabic republic of the Gynarchy.

“Some things have been set in stone and work very well. Male voting, boy’s education, healthcare, betrothal, marriage and the emergence of sissy men. As Far as I can see, no one has criticized these gynarchic laws and practices.

“Some, like Goddess Elizabeth, have suggested some amendments, which I approve of. No system is perfect, and her ideas are very good indeed.

“I am thinking especially of the need to ensure that girls know who their ‘male sperm donor’ was. The one who impregnated a girl’s mother and who, in some backward societies, are called ‘father.’ This is provision is reasonable and appropriate. It wasn’t implemented previously because it was considered intrusive to the mother’s privacy.

“Now that the great gynarchy is well over one century old, it can be seen that ‘fathers’ are useful beings and can make great pets and sissy slaves for their daughters. In some circumstances a bond can be forged, which is sweet and rather nice to see.

“A great republic can discuss new ideas, new ways of thinking, new practices and be able to discard traditions which no longer serve us well. This is healthy and, in these discussions, there have been many changes and ideas implemented. Well done to everyone!

“I will conclude by noting that the Gynarchy is the envy of the world. Our manufacturing and mining sectors, our universities and schools, our hospitals and healthcare and our military are world class.

“I acknowledge that we are not yet perfect, but we have a plan and a government committed to forging ahead with improvements and reforms.

“Thank you, ladies, for attending, I intend to reconvene this forum every two years.’’

The president received a standing ovation. She was very popular and, it must be noted, very beautiful, too.

The reforms from the 1935 Grand Convention were implemented swiftly and are looked back on as almost a Gynarchy Constitutional Landmark. It is always referred to as the “Landmark.” As per President Dottir’s recommendation, there have been subsequent conventions every two years since. Some have been more worthwhile than others, but they are always a useful ‘’temperature take’’ of the state of the gynarchy.

You may ask whether male opinion is ever sought. Not often. It can happen, but it most often comes in the home where a sissy slave is asked what he thinks of, say, subject A or subject B, usually from a questionnaire sent to homes by the ruling party. It may be phrased along the lines of ‘Please get your sissy’s opinion on the new speed limit, or the requirement to register males with children” or other male type concerns.

Their opinions are not taken very seriously and are usually “noted” in the reports. For example, last year there was a committee reporting on punishment and chastity in the home. As an example, one TV reporter outside parliament was quoted as follows: ‘’Today there was a report given by the Prime Minister on whipping conventions in the home, in which it was noted that a survey of men said it was important that they be punished when and as necessary. There were dissenting voices, but they were generally laughed at.”

Any male found to be a supporter of ‘’equality’’ or ‘’men’s liberation’’ was sent to a ‘’re-education’’ class to learn their proper place in a gynarchy world. These classes were popular and had very good, positive results. Men learnt that to be happy they needed to serve, to be submissive, to listen to women and to obey without question.

There was one notable TV discussion with male supporters of “men’s lib” where the males were allowed to discuss the topic freely. The women were so persuasive that the male participants all finished by agreeing that they were indeed subhuman trash.

Home Life: Boys and girls are brought up very differently in the gynarchy household.

Girls are taught how to handle their immense power and authority.

From a very young age, girls learn to give orders to their fathers, brothers and any other males they meet. They expect obedience and know what to do if they don’t immediately get it.

Boys are taught that they are loved and valued, but have a place in the family which means they must obey all the females all the time.

In my case, my daddy was the ‘family sissy slave’ and I treated him with love, respect and expected obedience and fear in return.

By “fear” I mean he knew what would happen if he was naughty, disobedient or gave me backchat. He would be punished, by mommy (when I was young) or by me (from when I was 16 years of age).

It works really well, that is why gynarchy life is so successful.

To illustrate, let me give a picture of home life when I was 15 years of age. Daddy is preparing supper after school. I come in from my friend’s house. I am in a good mood because I did well on a math test.

‘’Hi, princess. Your mom will be home soon, please go get ready for supper in about thirty minutes.’’

‘’Daddy, my stinky feet need worshipping.’’

‘’Oh, thank you, so much, princess.’’

Daddy kneels in front of me and bows to kiss and lick and sniff my shoes. I have worn them all day, walked to my friend’s house, so they really were stinky.

‘’OK, sissy, get on with supper. Good boy.’’

Mommy came home and we chatted about my day. She was thrilled I did well on the math test. Mom told me about her day as we ate our spaghetti. Daddy had his supper in the kitchen as we ate in the dining room.

Mommy: ‘’Good boy, you may worship my feet as we watch TV news.’’

This was a typical gynarchy evening when I was growing up.

There are some myths surrounding domestic life. It is not true that sissy slaves cannot speak unless spoken to.

They can speak, for instance, to show concern: ‘’Ma’am, is your cold better?’’ ‘’Princess, how did the math test go today?’’

To ask for information: ‘’Ma’am, what would you like for supper tomorrow?’’  ‘’Ma’am, is your boyfriend staying this weekend?’’

To apologise: ‘’I am sorry ma’am, but I dropped a cup this morning and it broke.’’

There are many instances when a sissy may need to speak; it is cute when they do and it is welcome if it is sweetly done.

Military: The armed forces of the gynarchy are world-class. They have modern jets in the Gynarchy Air Force (GAF) and modern equipment in the army and the navy. They have never been to war as they are tied in with other Arab countries and are not part of other alliances.

In the 1940s the gynarchy acted as a source of intelligence for the western Allies in the war in North Africa. They remained neutral, however. Most of the troops in the army are male, with female NCOs and officers. The highest rank a male can reach is corporal. Similarly in the Navy (GN) and the Air Force, they are controlled by females.

In the 1950s and ‘60s, ‘70s, ‘80s and ‘90s, the West traded happily with the gynarchy as they wanted our oil, titanium, manufactured goods and to visit as tourists.

There was very little comment on the social position of males as the trade was more important.

The gynarchy tries to be a friend to all, but resisted Russian and Chinese involvement.

In the new century things changed and there was controversy in Western countries because the trade was good but males were treated as subhuman, with no rights and no prospect of any change.

These things are still controversial but there is no appetite, it seems, in the West to lose the trade.

I hope you enjoyed this very brief history of a beautiful country with a strong sense of destiny.

We in the gynarchy do not hate men, we love them. They have their place and are treated well.

--Miss Zoe

MISS ZOE: THE HISTORY OF THE GYNARCHY, PART 1

(Miss Zoe, who has previously shared vivid scenes of growing up in a gynarchic
family, here indulges her dominant imagination to “chronicle” a much-to-be-wished-for femutopian state. First of a two-parter. BTW, Zoe’s British spellings are native to her.—Thomas Lavalle)

THE HISTORY OF THE GYNARCHY, PART 1

The early years of the Gynarchy are wrapped in myth and legend. There had been rumours about families where the women were in control and the menfolk obeyed. Some small businesses were run on these principles, as were schools and colleges.

About 200 years ago, around 1820, a tribe of Arabs began to live on a small island in the Gulf, which subsequently was renamed ‘’The Free Republic of the Gynarchy,’’ or Gynarchy for short.

Women were honoured and venerated in the new republic, and men took their natural place as helpers, servants, workers, drudges and sissies.

In 1854 a new President was appointed, Aariyah Dotta. She appointed an all-female cabinet of advisers and new laws were introduced which more clearly defined the disparate roles of men and of women.

The first changes were in education, and these laws are still followed today, with about ten amendments to accommodate modern ideas and practices.

Boys Education: Boys go to the same nursery and primary schools as girls. They all learn together Gynarchy Arabic, English, History of the Gynarchy, Mathematics, Geography, Basic Gynarchy Science, Basic Home Economics and Physical Education and Games.

The boys are separated for Religious Education so that they can appreciate the Gynarchy Goddesses and understand why they must obey when a girl gives them an order or task. The girls learn their higher place and how to worship the Gynarchy Goddess and manage males in their life.

 

At age 11 a test is taken by both boys and girls. Bright boys go to a boys-only Grammar-style school and can go on to college or even a boys’ university.

The not-so-bright boys go to domestic school to learn how to be a husband, helper, low-grade worker, heavy lifter, driver or all-purpose slave. They leave school at 15 years and go straight to work in military, civilian or domestic jobs.

The girls all go to ‘girls only’ grammar schools. They are graded according to ability, and the brightest go on to university or college, whilst the relatively less bright go to secretarial, clerical or domestic college to learn supervisory techniques and more nonacademic skills.

The education reforms were, and are, very popular because they teach children how to be happy in their rightful place in society. They learn not to complain or criticise those who are above them or be unkind to those below.

An early reform was to allow only females to vote. This was surprisingly very popular among men because it meant there was one more responsibility that they didn’t have to be concerned with.

When they did vote, they voted only as agreed with their Named Responsible Female, so it didn’t affect them at all.

Along with not being allowed to vote came “not being allowed to own property,” “have opinions different to those agreed,” “only being allowed to marry an approved person’’ and “a nightly curfew of 7 pm.”

These rules were common practice anyway. It was actually laughable to many females that a male could own property, or freely express opinions, or marry without permission. The nightly curfew made the streets safe for females and enabled them to go out and have fun without worrying about unwanted male attention. They could take a guy out dancing or to the theatre without breaking his curfew, as the curfew applied to lone males only, or males unaccompanied by a female. Male workers in restaurants and clubs, who had to be at work before the curfew ended, were taken home in designated buses after work.

The concept of a “Named Responsible Female” was introduced to ensure that all men had a female to whom they were, and are, responsible. It could be a mother, sister, wife, daughter, cousin, aunt or any other named female who agreed to take the role.

These names are registered with the local Town Council and the Police. This means that if a man is stopped by a policewoman, he is asked for his identity card which gives pertinent information such as blood type, level of education, crimes or misdemeanours committed and the name of his Responsible Female with contact details.

As a result of these laws, law enforcement works well and crime levels are very low in the Gynarchy.

World of Work: All gynarchy workplaces, public or private sector, have strict rules about jobs done by males and females. Males can only aspire to junior roles under the supervision of a Named Female.

If they are bright and have been to a boys’ university, they may have an important job, such as teacher, doctor, engineer and so on, but they must be supervised by a female. This is why a teacher in a school will have a female in the classroom to supervise, or a doctor will have a female in the consulting room.

In the law firm where I work, men can only be juniors or secretaries and kitchen staff (not chefs or cooks). They have their own entrance and work on floors one to 39. Any floors above (that is 40 to 50) are female only. A man can work on those floors under strict rules of supervision but cannot have a desk there or be there alone.

I have an office on the 45th floor and am supported by 20 junior staff. Five of them are male and are very sweet and efficient. They work with a female at her desk doing such tasks as drink-serving, photocopying, shoe-cleaning, errand-shopping, cleaning, toilet duty and foot worship.

Healthcare: Everyone in the gynarchy contributes to a state insurance system which supports healthcare for all. Males and females have slightly different facilities for healthcare and are treated on different floors in our General Hospitals.

They are both treated well in modern facilities and monitored for any problems, but men are only not allowed to call an ambulance or got to Accident and Emergency departments without their Named Responsible Female giving permission.

If a man, for example, has a cardiac arrest in the street, a woman passerby or shop worker can call an ambulance, the paramedics will attend and get the man’s identity card and telephone his NRF for permission to proceed.

If she is not responding or unavailable, the man will be taken to a “holding cell for medical emergencies” in a local police station. The NRF will be informed and he will get food and some minimum care until the matter is resolved.

Gynarchy hospitals are among the best in the world, and our Medical Schools are very popular and always oversubscribed.

*

I will continue this short history of the Gynarchy later, looking at Home life, marriage and how boys and girls are raised. -- Zoe

DEBRA’S SON: MATRIARCHAL MARRIAGE, Part 3 - OUR GYNARCHIC WEDDING

(Note from Thomas Lavalle: This post first appeared in 2017 in an earlier incarnation of this blog. In republishing it, I have left the age and date references as they were. Perhaps we'll have an update from Debra's Son before too long.)

Post begins:

As explained in the previous post, Shayna arranged for us to be legally married in a quick perfunctory civil ceremony attended by her parents and a few vanilla friends. What we consider our real wedding occurred later that day, attended only by my matriarchal family and a few of Shayna’s radical feminist friends. Shayna put it together, showcasing her unique combination of humor and dominance that I had fallen so completely in love with.

Shayna wore a dark red satin blouse displaying her gorgeous cleavage, a tight black leather miniskirt, sheer nude hose and dark red, peep-toe, four-inch pumps. She dressed me in a regular man’s suit, but all white to symbolize my virginity. (Yes, it’s true; see the earlier postings.) Days before the wedding I had begged her not to announce the reason for the color in public.

She said, “Throughout time men have expected women to value virginity, so, sauce for the goose, Dave. Besides, our guest list is so small and select that everyone knows or suspects anyway.”

End of discussion.

The Priestess at our wedding was Madison’s friend Angela, a solitary witch (i.e., not a member of a coven). She wore a long, red, wraparound dress. Shayna and I stood at the altar.

Angela read the lines below. Shayna and Angela wrote the vows, but most of the passages were selected and edited by my fiancée from English translations of the ancient Hindu text known as the The Laws of Manu. The twist was that anywhere words denoting males (husband, son, etc.) appeared, Shayna switched them with corresponding female pronouns:

“A boy, a young man, or even an old man should not do anything independently, even in his own house. In childhood a man should be under his mother’s control, in youth under his wife’s, and when his wife is dead, under his daughters’. A man should try not to separate himself from his mother, his wife, or his daughters, for his separation from them would make both families (his own and his wife’s) contemptible. He should always be cheerful and clever at his business; he should keep his household utensils polished and not have too free a hand in spending...

“A virtuous husband should be always faithful and constantly serve his wife like a goddess, even if she freely indulges her lust. A woman’s womb is her fertile soil and the seed comes from men. She owns her soil as a farmer owns land; she alone chooses the source of her seed regardless of her marital state. A virtuous husband will cherish the fruit of her womb no matter the source...

 

“Men, through their passion for women, their mutable temper, their natural heartlessness, they become destroyers, however carefully they may be guarded. But those men who of their own accord keep guard over themselves are well guarded. Be well guarded, then, David.”

I smiled sheepishly and nodded. There were lots of giggles and snickers from the guests.

“David, I understand that you come to Shayna a virgin, that you have never known a woman. Is this true?”

“Yes, Priestess.” (I felt my face redden and I could have crawled in  a hole.)

“Very Good. Congratulations, Shayna.”

[Hoots and giggles, mostly from Shayna’s friends.]

 

“Shayna, do you affirm that David is the man you have chosen for your lifelong helpmeet, to be your husband, that is, house-band, bound to your household in accordance with gynarchic principles, as you view them?”

“Yes, Priestess,” Shayna said.

The vows were next.

“David, do you promise to love, honor, cherish and OBEY [more giggles from the guests] Shayna, to live in her household, completely according to her rule, as she sees fit, for as long as you both shall live?”

 

“I do.”

“Shayna, do you promise to love, honor, and cherish David, always keeping him as part of your household, ruling him as you see fit—well, I don’t mean you can leave the boy with any long-term injuries—[laughter from the guests] for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”

Angela said, “David, do you have the key?”

“Yes, Priestess.”

“Make your pledge.”

“With this key I give myself to you, Shayna, body, heart, mind, and spirit, forever.”

The key was my chastity key on a chain, and Shayna put the chain around her neck, letting the key dangle in her cleavage.

“With the power vested in me by the Goddess, I now pronounce you Woman and husband. Shayna, you may kiss the groom.”

As Shayna kissed me, I never felt more submissive and owned by a woman in my life. The kiss was long and got more passionate as the guests laughed and applauded. We ended up soul kissing, and I surrendered to her tongue as she silently let me know that I belonged to her, absolutely, forever.

We kept kissing, and finally the Priestess stepped down from the altar. As she walked past us she slapped me on the backside and said, “Good luck, David, you’re gonna need it.” Shayna, without completely breaking our kiss, giggled and said, “Shut up, Angie.”

Though we hadn’t planned a reception, people hung around for awhile. Mom was cordial though reserved. I knew this ceremony hadn’t been solemn enough for her in terms of Goddess-worship, but I wasn’t going to defend Shayna’s decisions. We were beyond that now.

Shayna and I left as everyone wished us well. I felt great, but I was worried about that night. I was a 41-year-old man who was going to have sex for the first time. I always knew I was hetero, and had a high libido, but I had never touched a woman in a sexual manner. I was really afraid of not being able to maintain an erection. You would think it would be the opposite, that I’d be raring to go, but I had a bad feeling.

My fears weren’t unfounded. Shayna unlocked my chastity belt and started stroking me, but before we got very far I kept losing my erection over and over. I tried to explain things to her. She said she understood, but I believe deep down she was thinking, “This just proves my theory. I should have left well enough alone and made him keep his virginity. This won’t do either of us any good.”

 

I told her I thought it’d help if I gave her a massage. I started rubbing her beautiful feet and moved up to her toned legs, her gorgeous ass (“birthing hips” I thought at that moment, for no reason at all), her narrow waist and up her back. I had her turn over, and she looked so beautiful I stopped massaging and just started kissing her face and going down her neck. I stuck my nose in her cleavage and inhaled her scent. I spent a long time sucking her breasts and, as I did, I felt myself get really hard, and I let my erection throb against her leg.

I moved down to her midriff, and kissed all around her belly button for awhile. Then I went to her pussy, and had my first taste of ambrosia. Finally I felt relaxed enough to try entering her. I did, and she felt so great, like liquid velvet.

I could scarcely believe it. This is what I’d fantasized about for so long. Pure ecstasy. I couldn’t possibly hold back. In less than twenty seconds, I squirted what felt like a gallon. I was so happy I didn’t lose my erection that I said, “Oh, god, Shayna, that was so good, I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to go again in no time, and I promise it’ll be longer.”

 

She said, “No.”

“What?” I replied, surprised.

“No.” Her tone was serious and resolute. “We’ve consummated our marriage. I kept my promise. That’s it for a long, long time.”

I didn’t say anything.

After a minute or so, she said, “Don’t look so mopy. You had to know I meant what I said.”

Pathetic as it might sound, I begged, “Please Shayna, let me clean you at least.”

She didn’t say a word and kept staring at the ceiling, but she spread her legs slightly. I took a chance that she meant yes, and started licking her thighs and pussy clean.

I couldn’t complain. She had made it clear before we married that I didn’t excite her in “that way,” and she was not going to be one of those women who had sex all the time out of duty. Intercourse with her was extremely rare after that night (my birthday and our anniversary, and they’re only two months apart!).

She does allow me to perform cunnilingus if I really beg for it. I just have to be intuitive and make sure I don’t pester her often. Occasionally she likes being begged, but usually she’s annoyed and I get nowhere.

One time I kept begging to lick her pussy and she said, “No, but you can lick my ass.”

That was okay—more than okay! I loved it! Diving deep between the cheeks of her heart-shaped ass and tonguing her rosebud were sheer heaven for me. 

As for enforced chastity, it’s still difficult, but I’ve learned to live with it. I have to take a break from even the specially made device sometimes, but I’ve learned to control myself (usually) when not wearing it. Shayna allows me two orgasms by masturbation a month to “clean the pipes.”

After the honeymoon I sold my house and moved into hers. She didn’t want to leave the area or her job, and I was pretty sure I could set up an accounting practice there. It was a slow start, but I’ve built up a good home business in this area and it’s still growing. I was able to pay off her mortgage and began having the house repaired and remodeled as she desired.

We’ve been married five years now. Shayna is 30 and I’m 46. We enjoy time together, we’ve remained affectionate, and our bond grows stronger as the years pass. Life has gone on mostly as before, but there have been two wonderful surprises in our lives. Shayna gave birth to a boy in 2013, and we found out she’s going to have a girl this coming April of 2017.

We’ll be raising our kids in a matriarchal, or as my wife prefers to say, a gynarchic home. I feel so much more sure of myself now because I’ve done it before. The difference is I’m raising a son, but my dad helped raise me in a matriarchal home, and I have those experiences to draw on. I’m still close to my parents, and my mom is gracious and accepting of my choices. I’ll always love and honor her for that. I’m happy, healthy, and so is my ruling wife and our growing family. Despite what anyone might think, I feel incredibly blessed to be right where I am.

 *