Archive for the ‘The Female Dominated future’ Category

Would You Like to Buy Him?

July 12, 2012

by eosuchus

“Would you like to buy him?” said the blonde lady, as
Catherine was walking by. The words were not addressed to her, but they turned her head.
An older woman, with grey hair pulled back into a  long ponytail and massive breasts was standing by the wall. Kneeling before her, on a leash held by the blonde, was a young man. His face was pressed against the lower part of the older lady’s belly. Her right hand rested on his head and her fingers had a grip on his dark hair.
“He seems eager enough,” said the older lady in a husky voice.
“Oh, he’s well trained for oral service,” said the blonde.
“What sort of price are you looking for?”
Catherine didn’t want to stare, but this conversation was so new to her experience and thus still shocking, that she just stood there, taking it all in.
The young man was well proportioned, and from his profile, good looking. He was wearing a form fitting t-shirt and what looked like a little skirt, with flip-flops on his feet. He had a thick, black dog collar around his neck, with a chain leash that the blonde woman held quite casually in her hand.
“Well, I have him in Section 11 marriage. It’s the full contract, but he owns a house in Orange Park and I left that with him. He also has some stocks and bonds in a retirement account, and that all comes with him.”
“So there’s a property price on him, too?”
“You know, I really don’t want his stuff. I enjoyed him, and he’s well trained now, so I just want the sweat equity, if you know what I mean.”
Both women laughed at that. And the older woman tightened her grip on the young man’s hair and pressed his face down and into her crotch.
While this amazing little scene was going on, the party continued all around them, and nobody seemed to be especially interested or troubled by what sounded like slave trading going on here.
Catherine had only been in LA for a month now, drawn to the west coast by a new job running an aggressive new art gallery for the FemArts Coalition.
She’d heard about this kind of thing when she was in New York, everybody talked about the changes in California, how the women were taking over, but she hadn’t imagined seeing something like this, at a party like this.
“Can I have a preview with him,” said the older woman, still keeping her grip on the young man’s hair and his face pressed against her belly.
“Sure, I don’t know if Irina would let you….”
“There are about twenty bedrooms here, there must be one that’s empty.”
Both women laughed again.
“Is he chipped?” said the older woman as she took the leash from the blonde.
“Yes, and registered. Disease free and he’s been to training school. Nothing to worry about.”
“Wonderful, I’ll call you shortly with my decision.”
The older woman moved away, pulling the young man behind her on the leash. Catherine saw that what she’d thought was a skirt was really the bottom part of a long, body hugging t-shirt that was belted at the waist. It came down to a point just below his shapely ass. His legs were hairless, that was also clear.
Then they were gone, passing through the crowd, heading towards the stairs. Irina Morrison, the hostess for this party, and owner of this vast mansion in the Hollywood hills, was over there somewhere, too, surrounded by cronies. Irina was an important figure in the Coalition, which was why Catherine had been invited to the party, her first serious social occasion since she’d arrived in the city.
The blonde had just checked her phone, now she looked up and her eyes met Catherine’s.
“You’re new to LA,” she said with a smile.
“Yes, how can you tell?”
“Oh, the way you stared at me and my slave just now. There’s this look that women get the first time they see something from Section 11. People here are used to it. Perhaps some men might get upset, but it’s not that
strange anymore. Almost like gay marriage, nobody even thinks twice about that.”
“Well, yes, now that you say that. I had heard about it, of course.”
The blonde laughed. “Of course, the whole world thinks that California is crazy. But you know, our economy is going stronger than ever.”
“And women are running more and more of it, too,” said Catherine. “I know, it just drives the conservatives crazy. The things they say on tv.”
“Well, we have our own tv. We don’t have to pay any attention to them.”
The blonde paused as a male servant in formal dress offered them a tray with glasses of champagne.
Catherine took one, too.
“So,” said the blonde, “why are you here?”
“New job. Managing an art gallery. I’ve been in
New York too long. It was either come here or go to London.”
“London! I Love London, but it’s so expensive.”
“Yes, I heard that. But this job came up and so I’m here.”
Catherine noticed that the older lady was climbing the stairs now, pulling the young man behind her.
The blonde picked up on what Catherine was looking at. “Lorraine is going to try him out upstairs. I think she’ll be pleasantly surprised.”
“You mean have sex with him?”
“Only oral.” The blonde held up a wrist bracelet. There were some little gold keys attached. “He’s locked down. If she buys him, she can go all the way if she likes. But until then, he’s mine.”
“Oh, my.” Catherine had heard of this, too. Of women keeping men in chastity systems, locked up, so that they could only have sexual relief with the woman’s permission.
“Getting very common here, I have to say. If a guy wants to get married now, he pretty much has to agree to a chastity. It may not go all the way to Section 11, but
most girls today want a chaste man, who they can control.”
“But you have several keys there.”
The blonde laughed. “Oh, yes, I have quite a stable right now. I have five men who want to marry me under Section 11 rules. They’re all in chastity, of course.”
“There are that many, uh, masochist men here in LA?”
“Well, they come from all over. All over the world, I should add. I have two Germans right now. Uli and Hans, both magnificent specimens.”
“You do a lot of this, then?”
“Oh, yes, it’s become quite a good sideline for me.”
The blonde extended a hand, “My name is Cheryl, by the way. Cheryl Slate. I work in Real Estate primarily, but the last few years I’ve done very well with the slaves.”
Catherine felt her eyes pop as she heard this. The world had changed dramatically out here in California.
“That’s amazing. I never imagined that it would go so far.”
“Once the Section law was passed, everything began to evolve very quickly. There are tens of thousands of happy Section 11 households now. And there are tens of thousands more men, who are hoping to find a Section 11 arrangement.”
“But you have a husband, and you’re going to sell him?”
“Oh yeah,” Cheryl laughed again. “See, it’s part of the thrill for a lot of them, they really want to be nothing more than property belonging to women. If women want to sell them to other women that’s exciting for them.”
“Wow. And great for you.”
“I have to say I didn’t expect to have so much business this way.”
“And it’s legal?”
“Yes, it’s a free market, there’s nothing that says a woman can’t arrange to give her husband to another woman in return for money. Kind of amazing, yeah?”
“We wouldn’t tolerate it if it was the other way around.”
Cheryl laughed again. “Of course not. God, that’s a horrible thought. But, you know there is still trafficking in women for prostitution. There are gangs and killings, it’s awful. But those women are not volunteers. No man has to stay in a Section 11 situation. He can have his freedom whenever he wants and his wife has to take him to the County Center where he can have counselling, some therapy, and stay for a while until he can get a job and get back on his feet.”
“Wow, does that happen a lot?”
“It happens. Some of these guys have all these fantasies about being a woman’s slave. Then they find that she really means it about working them hard every day. That she really does want them to scrub the floors and cook the meals and they get sick of it. Because they’re just into the sexual side.”
“I would have thought that was the majority of them.”
“Well, I’m sure it’s the majority of men with these kind of, uhh, feelings. But only a small group go so far as to put themselves in line for Section 11. It’s self selection you see.”
“Right,” Catherine did see. Men who went that far were pretty likely to really be into this.
“So, it’s pretty easy to meet a guy like this?”
“Sure. There are clubs all over the place. But many women prefer to buy from someone like me, because then you know what you’re getting.”
“Sure, because I take them in and I train them. It’s, umm, it’s a rigorous process, shall we say?”  Cheryl laughed, showing beautiful white teeth. “I break them down basically, like in the military. They have to reach the point where they barely think of themselves at all. They have to be completely directed towards their Mistress.”
“Wow, that’s amazing.”
“Once you get them there, yeah, it is. They become so, well, so devoted. Of course they’re in chastity, and you don’t give them relief very often, so there’s a constant pressure from their little balls on their brains. But with the training, they are just fantastic servants, or maids, or whatever you like.”
“Sure, there’s a big minority that are eager to be feminized and turned into lady’s maids. I do that to a lot of them. Give them fake boobs, even. Put them in panties and stockings, make them wear high heels all the time, and makeup and wigs. Or, grow their hair out and get it all nice. It only works well with the smaller men, though, because if a guy is more than about five eight, then once he’s in heels, he’s huge, and most women don’t like the effect. But the petites, and the
little skinny guys, they can be made into very nice little she-males.”
Catherine’s head was spinning by this point.
“But, what about?” She floundered, not wanting to use those words, for some reason.
“Their equipment,” Cheryl finished for her. “Not a problem, all these slave men are shaved, plucked and waxed. No body hair allowed, that’s the first rule.”
“I take them to my friend Inez, her salon in Oakwood. The girls are so used to it now, they just
wax these guys as if they were like anyone else.”
“Anyway, once they’re free of hair and in total chastity, you can work on reducing their male drive. If you do it enough you can get them so they can’t even have erections. Of course that means some work with the strap on. I do that a lot, because it means so much to them.”
“Strap on, you mean dildo?”
“Yep, you gotta fuck them in the ass, like a lot. I’m an expert on that now.”
Catherine blinked. This was a real education she was getting.
“They like that?”  Catherine recalled an experiment with a boy named Tony. It hadn’t gone well. In fact it’d hurt like hell. She’d never tried it since.
“Well, you start them out with a trainer dildo. Just a little one. And you lube them up a lot. And you do it every day. Then you move them to a bigger one, and then to a much bigger one. Just like you spank them all the time, too. You know when you start that, they can’t handle much pain. They’re crying and begging for mercy within a few minutes. But after a few weeks they toughen up and learn to take it without making noise. See, spanking them and using the strap on is important to reinforce their submissive urges. And, of course, you have to train them to provide oral.”
Oral, for the woman only, that was what Catherine had heard about back in New York. Not blowjobs, nothing like that, it was just for the woman to receive and the male to provide.
“So, you have them do that for you?”
“Of course, but I have too many guys. I can only handle so much, you know?”
Cheryl laughed, and so did Catherine. In fact it was a hilarious kind of idea. All these men lining up to lick one woman’s clitoris.
“But I have friends, and so I loan them out. And my friends are very particular and these guys have to learn how to adjust from one woman to the next. Their technique gets pretty good in no time!”
“What else do they do for your friends?”
“Clean their houses mostly. It’s a nice free service. They come in and clean the house and then they eat you out until you can’t have any more orgasms. Then you send them back to me.”
“And no, uh, fucking.” There, she’d said it. Catherine was kind of amazed that she was talking like this, about this topic.
“Absolutely not. Now some women in a Section 11 may require that from their husbands, but usually they forbid them to come. But my guys are all locked up. They couldn’t do that if they wanted to.”
“So, uh, do they ever, you know…?”
“Get to come?” Cheryl grinned. “There are certain ways of rewarding them. I train them to jerk off onto a plate and then lick it up. But I also like to get them used to face sitting. So I sit on them in panties and jerk them off into a condom. I like to combine that with spanking and the strap-on. I’ve found that the combination takes them into exactly the right sort of mental place. They become very easy to control and train.”
“Face sitting, eh? That’s popular, too?”
“For some ladies, yes. It’s tough on the knees though, so if you’re into that I suggest you buy a dedicated piece of furniture, they call them Queening chairs.”
“Oh, my…”
“I have a couple, and I’ve really gotten used to using them. Great for TV or when I’m talking to friends on the phone.”
“You just?”
“Your slave is licking your ass, that’s right. For as long as you want. It’s a very nice sensation, once you get into it. A lot of Dominant Women really enjoy it.”
“I can see I have a lot to learn.”
Cheryl was handing her a card, “Cheryl Slate Section 11 Advisor,” it said in red on a white background.
“I’m officially registered with the County. Everyone I handle is disease free and pyschologically tested. It’s best for safety, that way.”
“Yes, I’m sure you’re right about that.”
“Give me a call if you want to talk about anything.”
Catherine put the card into her pocket, with her thoughts in a whirl. Was this something she really wanted to explore?
The memory of her abusive ex-husband came up at once. Paul had cheated on her, had stolen money from her, had wrecked her car and then when she filed for divorce he’d threatened to kill her.
And behind Paul there was her old boyfriend, Alex, who’d also stolen her money, and screwed her best friend Michelle, who’d broken the news to her in the cruellest way possible.
Catherine wondered, maybe this was a different, but viable way to go. An incredible thought, but then again, this was LA. Things were different here. Best of all, her sister was in New York and wouldn’t know. Nor would her mother.
Cheryl’s phone warbled. She picked up.
“Yeah. Okay. Good. Yeah. Well, of course, I trained him myself. I’ll text you the details. We can do the divorce and you can marry him right afterwards. Yes, same judge. I prefer Judge Judy, she’s very experienced with these. Okay, meet me out front, and we’ll set a date. You can come over to my place, that’s best. And
then, yeah, right, he’ll be all yours.”
Cheryl put her phone back in her purse.
“That was, Thesea, the lady who was here. She liked my boi there, wants to take him off my hands.”
“Okay, how does that work?”
“Well, I’ll take him home, get him prepped, pack his things. Of course, he doesn’t have much, you know, as a slave. Then she can come over to my house and we’ll call the judge on duty. We can do everything over the phone.”
“Sounds, very, uh, convenient.”
“Oh it is. And then I divorce him and she cuts me a check and she marries him. All he has to do is answer the judge’s questions and affirm that he wants to be married to Thesea now that he’s divorced from me. Then the judge pronounces them wife and man and Thesea can take him home with her.”
“And he’s okay with that?”
“Well, she told me she’s never had better oral. She said he’s very enthusiastic.”
“What will you do?”
“Well, I have to make a decision. I have three guys I’m considering for my next marriage. I might take Carlos, because he’s such a sweety. Or Hans, one of my germans, he has the body of a god, and he is so submissive, it’s unbelievable almost. Then I have a guy with lots of money, Sheldon. He won’t give up all his money, and I wouldn’t want it. But it is a consideration, I won’t deny that. Only thing is he might not be quite ready for completely slavery. The thing about having money like that means you’re insulated from the kind of work that slaves have to do. So, I’m still thinking it will be Carlos.”
“Wow, and how long will he last?”
“Oh, we’ll see. I might keep him for years, or I might sell him in six months. Up to me, you see. That’s what is so great for women in the Section 11 setup. We have almost all the power. The male chooses to place himself in our power and obey us no matter what.”
“Amazing. I have a lot to think about.”
“Well, give me a call if you want to talk about anything,” Cheryl chuckled. “I’ve become something of an expert.”
“Yeah, this is all kind of amazing.”
“One thing we could do, I could let you come take a look at a few of my bois. You could preview one or two, even, so you get a little experience, you know, with a slave male.”
“Oh, wow, I don’t know,” Catherine said, reflexively, and then she stopped herself. “Well, maybe, I mean, yeah, I….”  She wound down confused.
“I know, it’s a big jump from everything we learned as kids. But this is the way it is now, and if you want to take advantage of it, you can.”
And then Cheryl was gone, in her tight cream skirt and black top,heading for the front door.
Catherine sipped champagne and tried to collect her thoughts. Talk about mind blowing!
“Excuse me, dear, I happened to overhear some of that,” purred a voice behind her.
She turned to find an older lady, in a leather skirt, holding a champagne flute in one hand. Beside her and behind her stood a younger man, in a suit, white shirt and pale grey tie.
“Sorry?” said Catherine, suddenly mortified that anyone would have heard her discussion with Cheryl Slate.
“Don’t worry,” said the older lady, with her hair in a careful pageboy tinted auburn. “I just wanted to say you should take her up on her offer. Section 11 can be the best thing that ever happened to a woman. It was for me.”
And with complete casualness, and open control,
the lady reached into the young man’s crotch, and took hold of his genitalia and tugged him forward.
“I took Bobbee here from a dealer. He’s been just wonderful for me.”
The young man was slim, handsome in a boyish way, and kept his eyes downcast. His owner wife, put her arm around his waist and leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.
“Bobbee makes my life so comfortable, and orgasmic, dear. You wouldn’t believe how much I enjoy having him eat my ass at bedtime.”
“Really? Wow, and, uhh, he likes it?”
“Honey, tell the lady how much you like to worship my ass.”
The young man had gone bright red with embarrassment, but he licked his lips and said,
“I live to give my Mistress Wife pleasure.”
“Bobbee, you’ll get a spanking,” said the lady with a warning tone.
The young man gulped and swallowed, he looked Catherine in the eyes for a moment and his shame was clearly visible. But at the same time, she felt that he was
hugely aroused by this moment.
“Uh, okay, I beg forgiveness, Mistress.” He cleared his throat. “When I am worshipping my Mistress’s anus, and giving her pleasure there, my face is pressed tightly against her holy buttocks. That is where I believe my face belongs, and when I am there, pressed beneath her holy buttocks and pleasuring her anus, I am fulfilled as her slave.”
Catherine goggled. The nice young man was so normal looking, and obviously so not normal.
The woman was smiling.
“You see, dear, they’re there just waiting for you to take one home. Bobbee, by the way, is an excellent cook and great at massage, too.”
Driving back to the apartment she’d rented on a temporary basis, Catherine kept going over in her head what she’d seen and heard at the party.
Having a man as her slave, legally her property in a kind of way. It was exciting to her, she had to admit. Her marriage had been an awful experience. As a working woman, with a good career, she never wanted to be
treated like that again. It was one reason she’d been very slow to date men after her divorce. This offered an entirely different way of life. She would be the absolute boss, she would have all her needs met and, incredible thought, the guy wouldn’t have needs. Or, if he did, they’d be met by his giving her his complete service and obeying her in everything.
Wow. How could you ask for more?
…when I am there, pressed beneath her holy buttocks and pleasuring her anus, I am fulfilled as her slave.
Bobbee’s humble words came back to her. Wouldn’t that be incredible? How many orgasms could one woman have?
She giggled, then turned into the parking lot outside the building.
Later, as she undressed to take a shower she took Cheryl’s card and put it on the side dresser right next to her phone. She looked in the mirror for a moment, then laughed. She was going to try it, she was going to make that call.

copyright: permian systems 2012.

Male Maid Service–doing the dishes.

August 31, 2008

An important aspect of Female Dominance, both in sexual terms and in
societal impact, concerns the matter of who does the housework.
Once upon a time, this would have meant a discussion of “role reversal” and almost nothing else, but in the past ten years FemDom in one shape or another has
edged out of the closet. The internet with its cloaking power, with its distancing capacity, has opened that closet door wide. Travelling around the net in a relative state of anonymity, millions upon millions of submissive males have found that they are not alone, that indeed they belong to a lively and
growing minority of men, and that there are women who have taken notice of their existence and even expressed an interest.
At the same time, and perhaps more important to this discussion, women in general have become more seasoned in the workplace. They have grown wiser to the way patriarchal society is set up and the way that it responds to challenges on the gender front.
Women still face discrimination in the work place, and sometimes openly sexist attitudes, especially from older men. At home the same women have found most men to be unwilling to take on housework.
Some women close their eyes to it. The dishes pile up in the sink, the floors turn into a nightmarish tangle of dust and junk, and they ignore it, like their men.
Other women hire cleaners, maid services, to do what they don’t have the time for, and their men won’t touch.

But here and there, some women are putting their foot down and demanding that he do his share. And, often unwillingly, a lot of straight men have learned how to use a vacuum cleaner, or even how to do the dishes. Or in other cases, have given up on marriages and relationships and gone home to live with their parents, and have their moms take care of them.
And then, more rarely, but perhaps more tellingly for the future of our society, there are those women who have taken the bull by the horns, or the male by the ear, and made him do the housework, starting with the dishes.

Here’s a great example of recent FD art celebrating the way of life in a “female lead” household. Hubby has his apron on and is doing the dishes. His Dominant Wife, eyebrows fixed in a stern frown, informs him that later his buns are going to be red hot and at that time, when the terms of their relationship will be revealed in stark clarity to both of them, he will be required to explain why he had left dirty dishes in the sink. Unfortunatly I have not been able to find this artist’s name. Anyone who knows it , please leave me a comment.

This, I suggest, is a very modern take on this particular aspect of the “role reversal” that is represented by men being required to wash the dishes. And from that thin end of the wedge, to go on to cleaning the house, and thence to…well we’ll get to where this may end up eventually in a little while.

Here’s a more traditional view of the same kind of thing, though more likely it evokes an earlier moment in the relationship between a husband and the dishes. Again, I don’t know this artist’s name and would very much appreciate any guidance on that topic. Here we have the Wife with riding crop in hand, wearing a straightforward skirt and blouse outfit, nothing to betray her Dominance at all, while her male has been given some stripes on his bottom, and put into an apron, with nothing else underneath it, and set to doing the dishes under her stern, but perhaps satisfied gaze. Hubby is clearly on the path to more of this, and more of other things too, one suspects.
I had thought for a while that this drawing was by Puyal, who has a thing about this entire aspect of the Fem Dom complex of issues. But close inspection leaves me wondering about that. Puyal favors a heavier line, the use of more shading, and nearly always, an “active” scene, no matter what is being portrayed. Here, in this quintessentially modern kitchen scene, we are past the active bit, at least for now.

We’ll come back to Puyal shortly. But first, here’s a typical Stanton take on the
drama of the dishes. This probably dates from the 1960s or 70s, and reflects Stanton’s own coming of age in the 1930s and 40s. Here we have one of his super-hot Dommes, albeit a Housemaid, who has taken charge of a bratty husband, whupped him with his own belt (role reversal being strong in Stanton’s work) put him in an apron and set him to doing the dishes. As is usual with Stanton goddesses she has a bustline somewhere between Dolly Parton and Pamela Anderson, and an attitude that brooks no refusals from a wretched male. The differences with the two
first examples are very clear and I think, reflect the shift that is underway both within society and within the FemDom world.
Of course, even in the 1930s, it was a very rare Housemaid that wore dark gloves up above her elbows or a super tight skirt, to match that fantastic bosom, but this is Stanton, an artist with near unsurpassable effect on the dream world of Female Domination in his era.

Moving up to the 21st century, there’s this wonderful example of Whizzer Black’s art. Whizzer is having his balls spanked, since as we can see his bottom is already
scarlet and sore from his Dominant Wife Constance’s attentions. He has failed, once again, to get the dishes washed before she gets home from her office job. And then in a modern twist, she tells him that some of “the girls” are coming over for dinner and he is to appear in his new Maid Uniform as he serves dinner to them. Role reversal here is complete. Whizzer exemplifies the enslaved househusband, constantly spanked and dominated by his lovely wife. Whizzer Black is a terrific comic artist. I wish there was more of his work to see. If there’s anyone that should have a website dedicated to his work, a la Sardax, it is Whizzer Black. FemDom eroticism combined with humor, it’s a terrific mixture.

And so to Puyal, and a male maid confronted with a domestic disaster, duster in hand. The vase has gone over, the water is on the carpet, and mr. maid is likely to be receiving a bit of a paddling when his Lady Wife comes home and discovers spots on the rug. Puyal, as I mentioned above, always takes great pains to render his scenes active. His work is well known on the internet and appeared for years in a variety of FemDom magazines, like the well known “Madame In a World of Fantasy” that came out of London. Here we have an interesting little detail. Mr. maid is hobbled, with rope around his ankles. Whether this is to make his day more interesting, or to keep him from running away is unknown. The rest of his attire is the
classic “Maid Uniform” of fetish fantasy– from the high heels and dark stockings, to the little apron and starched white hat. Check back to Stanton’s dark Dominant Maid from sixty years ago, and you have the switchover in roles caught perfectly.

And then there’s this example from an artist, new to me, named Pink. Pink’s work hews tightly to the Clothed Female–naked male, humiliation and subservience axis. The central figure, who may well represent Pink, himself, is this skinny youth with glasses, who is routinely humiliated in front of audiences of rather normal looking young women. Here he serves drinks while wearing a ridiculous “maid uniform” that leaves his pulsing erection fully visible to the ladies, who are laughing out loud at the
Implicit in Pink’s nice little picture is the reversal of roles. The male is the servant here. This reversal is still new enough to the ladies that they are enjoying the symbolism of having this humiliated male, with his stiffy exposed, serving them while wearing his embarrasing little costume. In more extreme situations perhaps, such as a Whizzer Black-style household, such service would no longer produce much mirth, just routine demands for more olives, or wine or perhaps oral servitude in a quiet room upstairs.

Here’s Puyal again, in just such a scene. Three Dommes are at the table, one of them is receiving oral worship of her toes. Another holds a whip, for no discernible reason. The male maid is in full maid costume, a la fetish fantasy, with his genital bulge exposed, and his little white hat in place as he brings in the drinks. From such a scene it is easy to imagine what is likely to take place after a couple more glasses of wine. The lady who has already shed her shoes will probably take the slave on the floor upstairs for some private activities, while mr. maid may find himself hard at work pleasing the other two ladies from under the table.

My final illustration of “doing the dishes” comes from Elise Sutton’s Predominant Webzine, and the excellent artist Coeur. I know little about Coeur other than his (or is her’s?) excellent art work. Here we have the Dominant Wife of submissive men’s dreams, clad in a terrific FemDom outfit with tight leather skirt and some kind of stretchy material on top, that leaves her fabulous bosom prominently displayed.
Hubby, who probably lives with a nigh on permanent erection, is doing the dishes, but either not quickly enough or in lieu of some other task that his Wife regards as more important. The ear has been taken, her expression gives a strong hint that he is about to be disciplined. His expression conveys a considerable fear that such discipline may be long and arduous, and yet, of course, his erection remains. With a wife like that, nothing else would be expected.
The point here though, for my argument, is that within the modern FemDom world, which has evolved mightily since it first surfaced on the Internet in the 90s in such venues as Alt.Sex.Femdom, the role reversal is simply assumed. Males in female lead relationships do the dishes. They may also do all the housework, cook all the meals, do all the shopping, and polish their Wife’s shoes, too. Possibly with their tongues, while she wears them, an incidental detail of tangential enjoyment to both parties.
FemDom has moved on from the old “role reversal” thing. Today, that is simply assumed. And out in the real world, Female/male relations are also moving on. In the academic world, at least in the US, Britain and parts of Europe, the Female gender is in the ascendant. However, that ascendancy is in a situation where the rules are fairly clear and hard work and intelligence alone will produce success. Smart girls can do better than the guys in almost any subject once they put their minds to it. Such success does not automatically translate to success in the world of work. In businesses large and small, men and all-male networks, are tough nuts to crack.

Except in areas like sales, where brute numbers can tell all, promotion and power are closely held and are won usually only with the acquiescence of the guys in charge. This is usually where an assertive young woman runs into trouble. She may be marginalized within a firm, ordered to get the coffee and do “secretaryish” things and low-balled on pay until she quits. The older men know what they’re doing. They’re fighting a rear guard action to stave off the role reversal that many of us can sense is coming. In their generation, they rule and women obey– for the most part. But they can feel the change coming, feel the trembling in the walls of the patriarchal fortress. These men were already grown when the feminist uprising of the late sixties and early seventies took place. They didn’t care for it then and they don’t like “uppity” young women today, either. However, the tide is turning, even running against them now. The better candidates for so many jobs are female that turning all of them down in favor of not such effective young men is impossible. Like water flooding into a home from a river overflowing its banks, capable women are seeping higher and higher into the work space. Old men die, young women are promoted. There are losses along the way. Many women leave the work force to have children and thus derail their careers. Many women find the business world too harsh, too crazy, and seek something more bearable, such as teaching. But still, slowly, step by step, women make progress and somewhere, perhaps within ten years, they will reach a tipping point and become the majority of middle management and achieve equality in upper management. Only the CEOs and CFOs will remain majority male, and then even that fortress will be taken and women will be running, managing and directing the corporate world.

By that point the issue of doing the dishes, and the rest of the housework, will have gone through a revolution. Men will be doing housework, perhaps on a 50-50 basis with their wives, perhaps they will be doing all of it, like the sub-hubbies of female lead marriages now. Men who don’t do housework will most likely not be married by that point unless they’re rich enough to hire cleaners and cooks for their wives.

And the male maid? Like so many things that were once unimaginable, the man turned into a housemaid, wearing a little frilly apron (and a chastity device) will probably be a little odd, but perhaps no more than the lesbian couple who live down on the corner, or the gay guys who run the hot new restaurant in town are today. As mainstream society shifts towards female equality, and perhaps more than that, so the subterranean world of FemDom and submissive men will breach the surface more or less openly.


copyright: Permian Systems 2008


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