Friday, June 26, 2015

Guest Column: JERRY’S STORY—‘WORSHIPPING MY WIFE FROM HEAD TO TOE’

(Note from Mark Remond: This is the first in what I hope will be a series of guest posts from "Jerry," a man totally under the spell of his beautiful and controlling wife, "Diane." A powerful aspect of Jerry's submission , as you will see, involves his being cuckolded. This is very much a hot-button topic, of course, and one which I don't recall being discussed here before, though it has become commonplace in many other FLR blogs. The focus here is not on the wrong or right of cuckolding, but on Jerry's need to speak candidly about this deeply submissive fantasy of his, and his subsequent reaction when fantasy became reality)

I’m 42 years old, and my wife, Diane, is 40. We’ve been happily married for 15 years and have three children together—a 14-year-old girl and two boys, 12 and 10. From the beginning my wife has been the head of the household, and her judgments, opinions and priorities rule. She has complete control of the family finances. All earnings from my main employment are deposited into her account, and from this she provides me with an allowance. There is absolutely no need for Diane to explain anything whatsoever about the family finances to me. She is free to spend as she alone sees fit whether, in her judgment, for the benefit of the family or merely for her own enjoyment. Recently, for example, she purchased a new Mini Cooper convertible, and this was her decision alone.


Obviously I am submissive to her. Indeed, I worship the ground she walks on, and I worship her literally from head to toe. Putting her shoes on has become a daily ritual for us. In the morning as Diane gets ready for work she requires me to fetch her footwear for the day and then place her selection on her feet. I go into her closet and locate the appointed pair, then kneel before her with the shoes until she instructs me to begin. I start by kissing the top of her left foot very gently, then carefully putting on the shoe, then kissing the top of the shoe before repeating the same process with her right shoe and right foot. Following this, I fasten a gold ankle bracelet around her right ankle. (Yes, I know what some of you may be thinking—Don’t married women wear anklets on the left, and unmarried women on the right? Stay tuned.)

Increasingly, over the past 14 years since our first child was born, I have expressed my obvious submission to my wife in front of our children in what I think are appropriate ways—as, for example, treating her soles with lotions and creams to keep them soft and sexy. For another example, when watching TV as a family in the evening, my wife and children usually sit on the sofa while I sit on the floor near her feet, caressing and casually kissing them.

Like many other wife-worshiping husbands who have posted or commented on this blog, I do all the household chores—laundry, running errands, scrubbing the floors, etc. Often while I’m doing my chores, Diane goes out shopping for sexy outfits or getting her hair done, or simply out enjoying herself, spending as she sees fit. As mentioned, she need not, and usually does not, tell me where she is going or what she will be doing.

Now here comes a confession, one that I don’t think will shock too many readers of this blog. I have often fantasized about Diane having a secret affair. I have imagined this incredibly sexy woman spending Friday nights out with a lover, being pleasured, pampered and worshipped by him while I stay at home, looking after the children and doing my house chores, perhaps scrubbing floors on my hands and knees.

Recently I had to go abroad for work for a few days, between a Thursday and a Monday. While I was away I of course kept Diane informed of my doings by phone and emails. So on Friday evening, after finishing my day’s work, I left Diane a simple and to-the- point phone message: “Just getting to my hotel room now, honey, I love you.” It had been a long hot day, so hot and humid, in fact, that it took my breath away each time I stepped out of my air-conditioned car into the furnace heat. Holding my overnight bag in my teeth I struggled clumsily to open the hotel door, and once inside dropped everything at the foot of the bed. Letting out a long and loud sigh, I collapsed on the bed, then stretched out for a few moments thinking of nothing but how blessedly good it felt to lie there in my air-conditioned cave.

After a while, however, my tired mind began to wonder why Diane hadn’t answered the phone herself. After all, it was nearly 3:30 in the afternoon, and the kids would be home from school soon. She always liked to be there for them on their return. (Let me insert here that Diane is a terrific mom in all ways.) But I quickly put my mind at ease. It was, after all, no big deal. Lately Diane and I have both begun enjoying a little freedom from the kids now that they’re getting a bit older. So I turned on the TV and began channel surfing. An hour slipped past before my cell phone began ringing. It was one of the kids, asking me where Mom was—all the kids were wondering apparently. No “Hi, Dad, how was your day?” or anything but “Where’s Mom?”

“I don’t know, honey,” I answered. “I’m sure she’ll be home soon.”

“Okay, bye, I love you!” Click.

I stared at the phone and chuckled, thinking: “I definitely have to teach my kids some phone manners.”

Figuring now that Diane must have escaped to the local casino, I texted her in a teasing way: “Good luck, hope you’re enjoying gambling away my hard-earned money!” and waited for a reply.

After a short while she texted back: “Thanks, I hope to get lucky : ), but I am not at the casino lol... I’ll text you later.”

“Where are you then?” I queried.

There was no reply. Puzzled, I could do nothing but wait... and let my imagination get the better of me.

Having received her text, I knew my wife was okay, obviously not in harm’s way. Her text was flirtatious and included a smiley face, so I also knew she was in a good mood. So, she had to be out with one of her friends, but who? That was the million dollar question. My rational mind said she had to be with her best friend. All evidence pointed to that—she was out and happy, simply too busy to talk to me.

But there were clues pointing to something else. I felt the familiar stirrings on a fantasy involving my deepest desire of submission to her, my desire for her to cheat on me. Images of Diane making love to some complete stranger swarmed through my mind. I saw her sexy body wrapped up in the arms of this other man, saw her enjoying herself, spending that part of our family income that I’d earned.

Immediately I sent her a couple of emails and texts telling her how much I adore her and how beautiful she is. But I wanted to do more. Immediately on my return, I decided, I would give her a surprise gift and take her shoe shopping as I knew she had a night out planned the following weekend and needed some new heels.

As mentioned above, Diane completely controls the family finances and all the earnings from my main (full-time) employment, and she provides me with an allowance. But I also have a part-time job with her permission, buying and selling items online, and I spend almost all of this extra income for her. I love to lavish her with expensive and elegant gifts. The remaining amount is spent on gifts for our children, such as toys and games.

When I returned home Diane and the kids greeted me. I hugged and kissed the children, then hugged and kissed Diane softly on her lips. Then I asked her please to come with me, explaining to the kids that the two of us had to do some shopping and would be back soon. I took her hand and out we went. As always, I opened the passenger door for Diane, and before we drove away, we kissed passionately. But when she asked me where we were we going, I teased her just to wait and she’d find out very soon. To her surprise and delight, the destination was a designer shoe shop where I paid for a very sexy pair of Italian high heels of her choice.

When we returned home, I asked all the children please to go upstairs as I needed to talk privately to their mom. As soon as they left, I knelt before Diane and worshipped and kissed the soles of her feet, then lovingly helped her into her sexy new designer heels.

Friday night arrived: When Diane goes for a night out with her girlfriends, all of whom seem to be single, she always instructs me to drive her to the nightclub where she meets them, and I pick her up later, whenever she calls me on her mobile phone. As I mentioned, Diane is 40, but so incredibly sexy that she doesn’t look more than 30. But driving her to and from the club is not my only involvement in her nights out.

She allows me to help her prepare for these outings. On the night in question, I drew her a bath and afterward worshipped her neck before putting on her elegant diamond necklace, then worshipped and kissed the soles of her bare feet, knelt before her and fastened on her anklet, and then sucked her toes before sliding on her diamond toe ring. Next I helped her into her new sexy high heels that I had just given an extra polish.


When it was time to leave, Diane reminded me to start the laundry as soon as I got back home and to cook dinner for the children. Then, brimming over with adoration, I drove her to the nightclub, feeling so lucky to be able to worship such an earthly goddess.


Back home again, I started the laundry and cooked dinner for the children and myself. After we finished, I cleaned the dishes and continued with ironing some clothes and some doing some vacuuming.



At three a.m. Diane called me from her cell phone and instructed me to pick her up in exactly one hour. The nightclub is only about a 30-minute drive from our house, but for some reason I decided to leave immediately, and instead of going to our agreed-upon meeting spot, to park near the nightclub entrance and wait there until she left the club with her girlfriends.

Shortly after I arrived and parked, however, I witnessed something that has changed my life forever. I saw Diane come out of the club with a guy, a complete stranger to me, and they were kissing—I mean really kissing, French kissing. They couldn’t see me, but I watched them touching each other intimately and kissing deeply for at least 15 minutes before I backed the car away quietly and went to wait for my wife at our meeting spot.

When Diane arrived at 4 a.m., I kissed her sweetly as usual and said nothing about having spied on her outside the club, or, of course, what I had seen as a result. On our way home I asked her casually how her night out had gone, and she told me that she’d enjoyed it very much and that the time had passed so quickly, and that she was already looking forward to seeing her friends again.

I bet, I thought! In fact, to this day, my wife does not know that I am aware that she has a boyfriend behind my back.

What is my reaction? Well, yes, there is some jealousy, I can’t deny it. But there is something deeper than jealousy that I felt that night. In fact, I was turned on like never before and saw Diane as truly a sexual goddess. This just made me even more submissive to her. When we got home early that morning I knelt before her and licked her soles, sucked her toes and worshipped her slavishly.

Two weeks later I gave her another surprise gift—purchased like my other gifts to Diane with the proceeds from my extra job, this one an expensive “Sexy” diamond and platinum necklace.

Since that memorable night, I feel incredibly excited and turned on each time I help Diane prepare for another night out “with the girls.” My submissive excitement continues throughout the hours she is gone, knowing that I am obligated to do all the house chores and laundry while my sexy wife is taking her pleasure with another man and, of course, freely spending money I have earned to further her enjoyment.


Wednesday, June 17, 2015

dennis: SERVING MS. BROWN, PART 5—JOAN STRIKES BACK

(Note From Mark Remond: This post can be read as a provocative sidebar to SERVING MS. BROWN, PART 4 – WEEKLY STAFF MEETING.)

Wanting to follow up on my suggestion for Carol to lunch with Joan, our HR director, I called her office, but only got her voicemail. This was unusual since Joan has an administrative assistant, brad, a bright young man, recently graduated from college. A few minutes later brad called me with instructions that “Ms. Smith (Joan) wants to see you in Her office right now.” Having conveyed that abrupt summons, brad promptly hanged up. When, perhaps a minute later, i show up at Joan’s office, brad was there to usher me immediately into his Boss’ office, then close the door. Long minutes passed, however, before Joan even acknowledged me, and then only to motion me to sit on a low chair adjacent to Her desk. Another few minutes passed before she gots up and walked over to my chair, the sound of Her heels further reinforcing Her Female authority. My low chair, Her high heels, plus Her 5’10” height all combined to have Her towering above me.
 
“What the hell happened in Carol’s meeting this morning?” Joan screamed, giving me a sharp shin kick for emphasis.

“Ma’am?” I responded sheepishly.

“Ma’am, my ass!” Joan yelled. “Listen bitch, I don’t like being left out to dry like that. You could have said something.”

“But I mentioned to Carol all that You do for us here,” I said, stammering for an excuse.

“Why bring up favorable things about me after the meeting? What the hell good does that do? Listen, bitch, you better realize that I can make a few calls, and you’d be history here, do you understand that? Trust me, I can find some reason to fire you and make it stick, and the same applies to your bitch buddy, tom – make sure he knows that. I’m sick and damn tired of not getting the respect I deserve around here.”

“Yes Ma’am,” i responded with a gulp.

But Joan wasn’t finished. “As a matter of fact, I think you’re partly to blame over this mobile applications thing, because you didn’t manage the head of the computer science department very well, at least that’s how I see it. How about you?”

“Yes, Ma’am, i guess I am partly to blame.”


“Partly?” Joan yelled. “If you’re implying that I have some culpability here, you’re sadly mistaken.”

“Oh, no, Ma’a, that’s not what i meant at all.”

Still obviously enraged, Joan went on to say that both tom and i were responsible since we were involved with the college computer science department. “I’m going to do an investigation of this mobile apps thing, and when i’m through, both you and tom are going to have some entries in your personnel files, and they may not be too flattering.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

But there was still more: “We have Women coming up who we’re going to be looking at to move into your positions—yours and tom’s—and it’s all that much easier when the incumbents are fucking up, do you understand that?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”


“But you can redeem yourself by helping me confront the head of the computer science department at the college. That guy is my choice as poster boy for misogyny, that patriarchal son-of-a-bitch.”

“Maybe we could have a meeting with the college president to discuss this?” i suggested. “She’s always been supportive, and She’s a committed Feminist.

Joan agreed that we should definitely “take this to the top.” But she concluded our “discussion” with a final warning: “You’re not out of the woods for fucking up today, little man. You owe me and you’re going to start paying—now.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Dipping into Her purse, She pulled out a receipt and a set of keys. “Have my car washed and the oil changed then pick up my dry cleaning.” She held out the dry cleaning receipt and car keys then, as I reached for them, dropped them on the floor. “Pick them up,” She ordered, “and this is out of your pocket.”

“Yes, Ma’am, my priviledge, Ma’am.”

“And one last thing.” Joan kicked Her pumps off in my direction, commanding me to “Shine these and make sure they’re back here by one o’clock.”

“Why, yes, Ma’am,” I said, trying to demonstrate my deference, “i can shine them right now. Where does brad keep his shoeshine supplies?”

“He doesn’t, at least not yet, so you’ll have to take them to your office.”

“That’s fine, Ma’am, do you have a tote bag?”

She didn’t, or perhaps She wanted to teach me some humility by having me openly carry her pumps through the long corridors and into the packed elevators. In any case, that’s exactly what I did, a male executive carrying heels through corporate headquarters.

Some of the Women i passed, having a real feel for their own power, bantered with me. “Nice heels,” one Woman called out, “but not your size.” i smiled and nodded in agreement. “Oh, are those yours?” asked another Woman as Her colleagues giggled.

Courtesy toward all Females being mandatory in our company, i responded candidly, explaining that a staff member needed them tended to. On hearing this, another commented, “Maybe when I get to staff level, I’ll have my shoes shined, too!”

i assured Her that She would, but suppressed a followup thought—“And i’ll be delighted to care for them for you.”  

i returned to the office and immediately got busy caring for Joan’s shoes plus a pair of Carol’s for good measure.

he remainder of the morning was fairly routine. i tended to departmental issues as well as taking dictation from Carol and attending one of Her meetings where my shorthand skills were need. Plus i answered phones, took dictation and handled paperwork. i knew i would have plenty to keep me busy over lunch tending to personal tasks for Carol—and now Joan.


*

Tuesday, June 9, 2015

dennis: ON LOAN TO RHODA—WORKING AT THE HOTEL

i’d spoken earlier about how the guys in our little social group help out when one of the men in our group is traveling. i spoke about Linda and my work while i was on loan to Her when hubby, tom, was out of town for work. My experience extends beyond simply serving Women within our group, however. My Mother-in-law, Sue, has made arrangements with three Women-run businesses: 1) housekeeping at a local hotel, 2) a local Women’s boutique, and, 3) a Maid service. Everyone benefits with the arrangements we have: the Women get needed help, Sue gets money and perks, and i get valuable training and work experience.

At home i’m responsible for domestic service – housekeeping – and while i loved the work i was finding myself getting further and further behind, i was simply inefficient. Sue to the rescue! One day She was speaking with Rhoda, a Woman friend who ran housekeeping for two local hotels. When Sue expressed frustration with me and my inefficiency, Rhoda offered to help. Rhoda proposed training me to be a Maid at the hotel and, in the process, making me very efficient at housekeeping. Hotel Maids have a tough job – plenty of rooms and not much time to clean them. Not only would i learn a great deal about housekeeping but i’d be working in a Woman-run environment.

Sue and Rhoda struck a bargain. Rhoda would train me and, in return, Sue promised to make me available for a certain number of days each year – usually on weekends – to supplement Her staff when needed. i would be paid but i’d give that money, and any hotel perks i’d get, back to Sue. Any tips i received from cleaning rooms were to be turned over to Rhoda to be split among the other Maids.



The two Women agreed, and the next Saturday i reported to Rhoda at the hotel to begin my training. i was issued a uniform and a name tag and a block of rooms to clean – piece of cake, i thought.

Rhoda and Her Girls just threw me into it, assigning rooms and pointing out where the service carts were located. I received no training to begin with, but plenty of yelling and harsh comments. My rooms were continually failing inspection, and couldn’t be assigned to new guests making the front desk angry. i quickly found myself behind in my tasks; they hadn’t shown me any of the tricks of the trade but thrown me into it as a way of learning some respect and humility.

Halfway through the day the Women invited me into the break room for cigarettes and lunch. i was way behind and begged the Women to help me – i promised i’d make it up to them. They loved the begging! They’d rightly perceived that i underestimated the task; worse, a few of the Maids assumed i didn’t respect them. That, i assured them, was not the case. Rhoda assigned me to Tiffany, a tough, no-nonsense Maid for my training. Tiffany set the record straight. i was told that all the Maids were to be treated with respect and deference – “Yes, Ma’am, no, Ma’am.” The Maids were to be addressed as Ms, and their first name or however i was told to address them, “yes, Ms. Tiffany!” i was to obey all the Maids, all the time.

After lunch we went at it full force, with Ms. Tiffany ordering me around like a drill sergeant. FYI, yelling works! i learned a lot of humility, too. i’d always worked for or with educated Women, but here i was a guy with graduate degrees as the lowest-ranking member of an all-Woman team, none of whom had attended college! And i deserved to be at the bottom! It was humiliating for me because in their world of the housekeeper they were in charge. i entered their domain at their pleasure at the very bottom of the hierarchy – and i’d stay there, said Rhoda.

Two of the Maids on our team were sarcastic toward me, often saying things like, “Oh, you have a masters degree and can’t even clean a toilet!” These Women exercised their power over me in a number of ways that i won’t now mention, but their comments were right – my formal education didn’t count for a thing. Formal education didn’t help me to efficiently make beds, dust, vacuum or clean toilets, only the skills Rhoda and the Ladies would teach me would do that. The other Girls reminded me of this, too. And Rhoda started our shift meetings with “OK, Ladies....” – giving no special recognition for me, a recognition that i’m now very embarrassed to admit i initially thought i deserved. Of course i didn’t.

Only when Rhoda and Tiffany decided that i learned the job and learned my place, did they give me a cherished educational credential, a silver hotel logo “Housekeeper” nametag engraved “Denise.” Yes, Denise! The engraver assumed that Dennis was a misspelling and took it upon himself to make the change – sexist bastard! It was returned and corrected with proper spelling and capitalization; it now reads ‘dennis.’ This is the first step, the next is “Maid” if Rhoda sees fit to promote, but before that happens i have to gain experience in other departments.

My biggest reward, though, is that i’m now accepted by the other Maids. We converse, take smoke breaks, i pitch in to help them when i can, always bring cigarettes, and make and serve coffee. It all means a lot to them. i was flattered when, during one Saturday’s lunch break, the Women presented me with a feather duster and a rather fancy maid’s apron. i tried it on for them to their applause; i took it home but will bring it in for special occasions.

With this outside job in housekeeping i learned a great deal of technical skills that helped greatly in my daily homemaking tasks. i had no choice other than to get more efficient at my household tasks or get devoured by them. Rhoda, Tiffany, and the Maids taught me a lot!

Thursday, May 28, 2015

dennis: SERVING MS. BROWN, PART 4 – WEEKLY STAFF MEETING

The board is assembled for our weekly staff meeting. Carol enters, “Good morning, Ladies,” She says, and it’s all business from that moment forward. Each manager will go through Her department’s activities and issues. i take a seat to Carol’s right and open my steno book. While i’m at the meeting because i run a department, it’s no secret that my ability to take shorthand would have me here even if weren’t a manager. i frequently sit in on Carol’s highest-level, most sensitive meetings because of shorthand. i'll record the proceedings in detail, including developing a report to send to the attendees for their approval and add any issues they may want noted before making it part of the current record.

Carol is a capable and personable executive, but She is a Business Woman and She means business. By Her own admission, She’s a Bitch first and a Lady second. She wants Her staff to take the initiative, and there’s hell to pay when She perceives they haven’t – we’ll see an example of that today, and it won’t be tom or me on the receiving end.

This week after routine updates, we have hiring on the agenda, specifically eight offers for a variety of technical positions that are going to be offered to applicants, all recent college grads, three men and five Women. The Female candidates are well known to us, we’ve employed all of them as interns throughout their academic preparation. Their qualifications are impeccable.  All things being equal, we’d hire a Woman over a man but it rarely comes to that; Women are presenting excellent credentials compared to many male applicants.
This, coupled with a strong record of performance from Women already working for us, and we have steady growth in the number of Women in technical positions – but that growth isn’t always as fast as Carol would like to see.

Carol and other executive Women have structured a college outreach and a variety of internal programs targeted at attracting Women to technical careers and ensuring they succeed. We’re all committed Feminists and believe that economic empowerment is absolutely essential to Women overcoming the still-too-prevalent sexist attitudes and structures that confront them.

“Why are we hiring so many men?” Carol wants to know. “We can’t find three Women? How about two Women, or even one?” She asks, obviously disturbed. Carol is assured that the three men have unique skills – mobile applications development – that we need. “So three Women were denied positions,” Carol asks, looking to Joan, our HR manager. “Not yet, but Yes,” Joan responds sheepishly. “Putting aside mobile applications, were they good candidates?” Carol asks. “Oh, yes, very good candidates,” Joan responds. “So we have three talented Women who are going to work for competitors? Am I right?” Joan stammers a bit, wanting to extricate Herself from a touchy situation. Carol doesn’t want to hear Joan’s response. “Well, hire the men and make offers to the three Women, too,” insists Carol, “and make sure they are focused on mobile applications once we get them in here.” “Yes, Ma’am,” Joan responds, trying to raise a concern about budgets.  Carol cuts Joan off, “Just get it done! I’ll worry about budgets. And I want you in here at eight Wednesday morning to review your progress, and I want progress!”

The meeting lasts for an hour, then Carol brings it to a close with Her traditional send-off, “OK, Ladies, have a good week!” Carol, still perturbed by Joan, stops Her on the way out and requests a meeting with the Dean of Computer Science at the college that we so generously support – subject: mobile applications. Carol and i meet immediately afterward; i’ll be following up with the various staff members, particularly Joan. Carol is angry with Joan, but i try and calm Her by recalling all that Joan has done for our company. i remind Her that Joan has been our HR manager since we became a Woman-owned company and that She’s driven significant change:

§  Taken us from being a place where even the most talented Women couldn’t get ahead to one where Female management was the norm.
§  Traditionally Female departments are now 100% female-staffed AND -managed
§  Drove our university outreach and mentoring programs
§  Doubled the number of Women in technical positions and tripled the number of Female technical managers
§  Greatly changed the company culture, particularly male attitudes about Women – no small feat!
§  Improved the lot of Women in traditional secretarial and administrative positions by increasing salaries and creating paths for advancement such as ‘office manager’ positions
§  Hired men into traditionally Female secretarial and administrative positions. Her efforts and more attractive salaries are attracting male candidates. Men in these roles are typically supervised by Female office managers. If current trends continue, our company will soon have secretarial and administrative positions staffed by a majority of men.
§  Established a mentoring program for Women
§  Launched a golf program for Women; Joan sees golf as a necessary business skill

Carol, sees my point and i convince Her She should have lunch with Joan on Wednesday to discuss these issues – besides, i tell Her, it seems like our University Dean dropped the ball on mobile applications, not Joan. “Set it up,” Carol commands, as She abruptly turns to leave, the cadence of Her heels on the hardwood floor announcing Her departure. i take great satisfaction in calling Joan and having Her reserve time on Her schedule for a Wednesday lunch with Carol.


–d

Sunday, May 24, 2015

MARK REMOND JOINS THE MOLLY SANDS FANS CLUB

Over eight years of posts on this blog, I’ve recommended three writers of femdom fiction, all male—Eosuchus, William Gaius, and most recently Ryan Peterson. Oh, sure, I’ve read and relished the output of dozens of other exponents of my favorite erotic genre, but these were the writers who inspired me to post about their works.

Now, at last, I’m recommending a female writer of femdom fiction. And appropriately enough, I do so on bended knee, acknowledging this woman as by far the best writer I’ve ever encountered in the genre—and I mean going all the way back to Leopold von Sacher-Masoch (Venus in Furs), John Glassco (Harriet Marbury), and the pseudonymous “Viscount Ladywood” (Gynecocracy).

She’s an Englishwoman who writes under the name of “Molly Sands”—and that’s the sum total of data to be gleaned from her Amazon Author Page. In the last three years Sands has published three femdom novelettetes (released initially in installments):




All three stories are beautifully crafted and realized, but the last one, A New Devotion, is to my way of thinking an almost perfect work of art, from first word to last.

Like its predecessors, Devotion is an erotic tour-de-force, in which Sands charts the intricate metamorphosis of a mostly vanilla couple over the course of a few climactic days into a full-blown femdom dynamic, complete with major kink and cuckolding.

Yes, it’s a fantastic sexual voyage, but one that’s emotionally and viscerally real thanks to Sands’ descriptive powers and mastery of her subject matter. A particular trick of hers is to shift the narrative viewpoint back and forth between husband and wife, giving full character dimension to each exciting or explosive event.

Is there a moral? Frankly, her books are so darned exciting, even on a fifth read, that no moral is needed, at least for this submissive male reader. But, sure, I can think of one. How about the warning given by female supremacist psychologist Elise Sutton to submissive or wannabe submissive husbands, who yearn for their lovely wives to dominate them completely:

“Be careful what you wish for! You just may get it.”

*

Finally, to whet your appetite, here’s a brief sample of Molly Sands playing fast and loose with the whole notion of coercion vs. consensuality:

“Well, James,” Catherine said sharply. “Do you want this to end? Do you want to stop being my slave?”
He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. He’d never seen her look so beautiful and, for a moment, he wondered if she was a mortal woman at all. Such beauty could only belong to an angel or goddess come to claim him for her own.
“You need to answer,” she told him, “and you need to answer honestly. Do you want this to stop?”
“No,” he said, a current of fear tingling in his blood.
“You want to be my slave?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll stop if you want. All you have to do is say the word.”
“I know.”
“I’m not forcing you.”
“I know you’re not.”
“You don’t want it to stop?”
“No, Mistress.”
“There’ll be no going back.”
“I know that”
“So this is your decision? You agree to be my slave?”
“Yes, Mistresss,” he said, laying his head on her soft lap, feeling again the exquisite drowning feeling he’d come to crave.
“Even though you know what it will mean?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“You won’t be my husband any more. You’ll be my slave and I’ll be free to do as I please. Do you understand that? Really and truly, do you?”
“Yes, Mistress,” he said from a place beyond pride.
“Then let me hear you ask for what you want.”
“Please,” he begged her, “please be my Mistress and make me your slave.”
“Very well, James,” she said in a grave voice, “I will.”

(From A New Devotion by Molly Sands)


Monday, May 18, 2015

CARRIE & GEOFF—‘WHAT WOMAN WOULD NOT WANT TO BE A QUEEN?

(Note: In this fifth part of an occasional series, Carrie details her increasing delight and satisfaction with the wife-led lifestyle at the half-year mark.—Mark Remond)

Hi Mark, Well we have now passed the six-month mark in our FLR lifestyle and it just keeps getting better. So good, in fact, that I thought I would start this post with a question: “What woman would not want to be a Queen?”

In the six months I have been the Queen of our lifestyle, I have experienced more happiness than I thought possible. My wonderful husband Geoff has dedicated his life to serving me and making me happy. In public he is my knight in shining armour, helping me whenever I go shopping, by pushing my trolley or carrying my parcels. He is there to serve me and protect me. At home, when we have guests, he is my servant and waits on my every request. I love ordering him to make me a drink when we are with friends, as all the other wives look on with envy. We haven’t told them our secret as they would feel more envious.

At home when we are alone, Geoff is my slave and comes under my complete power and control. Failure to obey any of my commands results in serious punishment with the riding crop. So far I have only had to use it a couple of times, and it certainly gets his attention!

The only command he is slow to respond to is when I order him to get out of bed. You have to understand that each morning we have cuddling with stimulation, and he is reluctant to stop cuddling, touching, and caressing me. I like to see him squirm when he has to stop touching me, so I don’t punish him for being slow.

The really nice thing while we cuddle is that my slave tells me his innermost thoughts and feelings, and promises his continuing commitment to love and serve me. He loves to slowly run his hands over my body, oftentimes resulting in an orgasm for me, and he gives me body massages as well. If I was a cat, I would be purring!

After rising, my slave prepares my breakfast. He always does the dishes, and sometimes I will wipe up if I am in a generous mood. Besides keeping the kitchen tidy, my slave does most of the housework, and all the washing and ironing. He loves to do odd jobs around the house and not tell me, instead waiting to see how long it takes for me to notice.

He bathes me every night, and creams and massages my legs when requested, and paints my toenails. He says he loves it when I use my power and control on him. Having so much power and control over the man I love is quite intoxicating. Being placed on a pedestal and worshipped is a wonderful feeling. All the years of our vanilla marriage, I had no idea how happy and wonderful it could be! To be loved and cherished every hour of every day is hard to put into words, but it is intoxicating. I am no longer tired, my libido has reignited, and I’m having more orgasms than ever before. I only allow my slave an orgasm once a week, or longer if I choose. This keeps him fully charged and focused on me and my desires.

Not Carrie's chair, juts an image!
Recently my slave made me a “Queening Chair” to give me extra pleasure, and I can fully recommend it for anyone considering it. I made an extra cushion to put on top of the chair. This cushion has a skirt that covers the chair, so I can use it as a seat at my dressing table and nobody knows its true function.

This lifestyle is unbelievably good, and it just keeps getting better and better. I’m still getting used to having all this power, but I’m feeling more comfortable with it, and love using it.

My slave tells me that he can’t stop thinking about me and says he is now totally addicted to me, serving me, pleasing me, and giving me pleasure. Each morning he asks me how can he serve me that day. He also loves it when I command him to wear one of our sex toys, as a constant reminder of my power and control over him. Each time I see his gold glans ring, I’m reminded of his commitment and submission to me, and I feel pleased.

There is no way I would EVER consider going back to our previous lifestyle. So again I ask, “What woman would not want to be a Queen?”

Regards,
Carrie, Queen of Geoff

(Postscript from Mark Remond: Carrie and Geoff have expressed interest in making contact with Australian couples living the FLR lifestyle, with a view to meeting, talking, and learning in a strictly social way. Interested couples can email me, markremond@gmail.com, and I will forward all respectful inquiries to Carrie and Geoff.)


Saturday, May 16, 2015

dennis: SERVING MS. BROWN, PART 3 – TYPING AND SHORTHAND


One of the skills that makes me valuable to Carol and the other Women on staff is my ability to write (or “take”) shorthand. Shorthand is an abbreviated way of writing and one can literally record hundreds of words per minute and do so very accurately. It’s obvious how valuable this skill is in business, whether keeping record of a business meeting or taking dictation.


(As a young newspaper reporter, Charles Dickens taught himself shorthand and used it to take down verbatim accounts of political meetings, and later to capture the colorful dialects and dialogue that filled his novels.) One would think that this skill would be widespread, but it isn’t, alas; in fact, i’d guess it’s almost a lost art today. In the past it was mostly secretaries and stenographers – the vast majority of whom were Women -– who had this skill.

When I was in high school, my Mom was wise indeed and petitioned the school administrators to allow me to take typing and shorthand in place of the machine shop and drafting classes. i was college-bound and She realized the value of both these skills in a college environment. But even She could never have realized how valuable they’d prove to me in a business environment! So, i enrolled, although i was ridiculed by my classmates, some of whom inquired whether i’d be taking home-economics, too. Taking these courses took me outside the norm...

Well, i had the last laugh, since shorthand and typing have been amazingly useful to me. Not only does shorthand allow me to take accurate notes but it uses a script that is so unique to an individual, that it’s much like encryption – It’s not only fast and efficient, but almost secret! The stereotypical shorthand taker is a 1960s - 70s Woman, often depicted sitting on Her boss’ lap, the tops of Her nylons visible below Her hiked-up skirt, “steno” book in hand, taking dictation. But i’ve known a number of men wise enough to use it to their own and their Female boss’ advantage. And it’s secret in another way, too; unless someone looks at your notes, they’ll never know you’re using shorthand. A little consolation for guys who fear being accused of ‘writing like a lady’! Yes, i’ve been accused of this – patriarchy is easily threatened! For those of us who use shorthand, we consider it provides a real advantage to the business-person; think about it, how valuable are accurate and complete notes?
 
Just as Mom had predicted, typing and shorthand were useful in college, too, where i was again ridiculed for both. Last laugh again, good notes and professional papers were invaluable to my academic performance and my subsequently securing a full scholarship. And typing grew to be much more, for it morphed into “keyboarding,” a necessary skill for efficiently writing software! i’m still laughing!

Are my skills valued? They certainly are! Any time Carol loans ‘Her bitch’ to another Female staff member, it’s likely that staff member wants to employ my shorthand skills to record a meeting and my typing skills to type the notes of that meeting.

It’s nice to be appreciated!