Caught in Her Perfumed Web

In chapter 5 of my book, “Pampering and Pitching In,” I describe husbands relishing giving their wives nightly footrubs and weekly (or biweekly) pedicures, then quote one such doting hubby: “My wife accused me of having a foot fetish, but I told her no, I have a wife fetish.”

That certainly applies to me. My point here is that I don’t think it’s weird, or kinky, or even odd. I think it’s actually…

Natural! We are, after all, animals (at least partly). This husband obviously agrees: “The more I served my wife orally, the more I grew to crave her scent and taste. I think now that this is natural and inevitable.”

Doting husbands not only love to ogle their wives and touch them (when given the green light), and listen to them (and, yes, pay close attention), they also crave their wives’ heavenly scent.

Like this devoted guy, picking up his wife’s nightgown as she drops it before stepping into the adjoining bathroom: “I buried my face in her nightgown, mesmerized and intoxicated by her powerful, feminine scent. After several moments, dizzied, I finally got up and went and hung up her nightgown.”

Dizzied? A married man, hyperventilating into his wife’s nightgown? Yes, exactly! Listen to this guy: “I felt my sense of smell invaded by her musky aroma. I was so light headed with desire that I was prepared to do anything for her."

Or this guy, doing his wife’s laundry while she’s out of town on business: “I came across the outfit she wore at the office picnic, and held it to my nose and gingerly sniffed the underarms. Her fragrance and body aroma filled me and I soon had a very strong erection. Next I picked up her panties and held them to my nose and inhaled her scent from every inch of her underwear. Oh, how I missed her!”

This practice seems to be quite common among red-blooded husbands, worshipful and otherwise. Not secretly dressing up in female undergarments, but slipping them on as a “breathing” mask:

“For me, one of the paybacks of doing the laundry is that I get to smell her panties.”

Another confession: “I find myself thinking of [my wife’s] scent and taste whenever I become aroused.”

A Marseillais couple I met many years ago while backpacking around Europe once told me that smell had always had been a major part of their mutual erotic attraction. They went into more detail on this than I was prepared for. (Of course, they were French, after all.)

My wife, I have to confess, looks askance at this particular urge on the part of her loving husband. And I respect that. Other wives learn to be more laissez-faire: “Early on I admitted to my wife I sniffed Her panties on occasion. She was surprised, but pleasantly so. Which made me very happy.”

And some wives can get very playful, indeed, as this husband confided to female supremacist psychologist Elise Sutton:

“After [my wife’s] orgasms she removes her panties and places them inside-out on my head with the crotch right over my nose and mouth. Then I am commanded to crawl to the corner of the room for ‘corner time’ for 30 minutes. The whole time I am enveloped in her intoxicating scent as I have no choice but to inhale nothing but her [moist and redolent] panties plastered to my face. Her scent is so powerful and fragrant. During this time she usually watches TV or talks on the phone to girlfriends or her mother. I am in plain view of her the whole time. This whole procedure happens night after night.”

Not an image of stalwart manhood, I grant you, a grown man standing in a corner, adorned in flimsy headgear. At least his penance is fragrant. There are many variations on this theme:

“Sometimes my wife rubs her panties over my face. Once she threatened that from then on I would wear her used undies the second day.”

“Threatened”? How about “promised”? Many women consider the proffering of their scented panties a very special and intimate favor: “As a reward for his dutiful lovemaking, I took off my panties and gave them to him and told him to place them over his head so that the crotch was on his nose and he was looking out through the leg holes. As he followed my instructions, I explained that in time he would learn to crave my scent and taste.”

Another guy, who signed himself “william the submissive poet” on an female-led bulletin board, waxed lyrical on the topic:

"She is wise in the ways of entrancement.
She knows the value of the gift you offer.
She has trained you to recognize Her scent
and to submit to Her spells and laughter."

One online enchantress, by-lining herself Becky, actively tutors her husband in this erotic susceptibility:

“Nose training is the process of adapting a man’s nose to all [a woman’s] scents and smells … everything about a woman, including her scents, should be appealing to him. This does not come naturally to most men and therefore training is necessary. It can start with something simple, like sniffing your armpits after you finish your exercise… Once this becomes a second nature to your man, you can proceed to the next step, which could be your feet, stockings and shoes... Next will be your…”

I’ll fade out there, leaving Becky’s further prescriptions to the imagination, and fade in on another lady also busily enmeshing her man in her erotic web: “It amused my wife to lock me in her wardrobe among all her gorgeous clothes, leaving me surrounded in the darkness by her scented dresses.”

Finally, rounding out this survey, we come to the use of milady’s unmentionables as a husbandly security blanket: “My worshipful husband loves to lower himself beneath the covers to take in and savor my scent. He says it helps him to quiet his thoughts.”

“On several occasions I have summoned up the courage to ask my wife if I may bring her panties to bed with me,” a slightly embarrassed husband testifies. “She has, somewhat surprisingly to me, said yes. I have on those nights fallen asleep with the crotch of her panties to my nose. She knows this, and I think feels empowered by it.”

It’s time for final fade-out, with hubby curled up with his nightly wifely pacifier as his enchantress looks on, amused, tolerant and all-powerful:

“For some time now, I have been giving my sweet husband the panties I wore each day, and letting him sleep with them on his pillow. He seems to really love that, and it turns me on knowing that he adores me so much. [Once, when he broke one of my rules] I told him he would not be allowed to sleep with my panties. But he had made me feel so wonderful that I just couldn't bring myself to deny him for the night. I am really trying to develop a cruel streak.”

Walking the Walk

When I began writing and publishing online the first chapters of Worshipping Your Wife more than eight years ago, I was mainly writing for the benefit to husbands, along with guys in committed relationships.

The idea was to offer these guys both a persuasive rationale and a step-by-step program for “Turning Marriage Back Into Passionate Courtship.” I came up with six steps:


The husband needs to:
1. Realize that "the thrill is gone" and that he wants to get it back.
2. Save his sex energies for his wife.
3. Make HER his fantasy.
4. Court her every day, attempt to win her anew.
5. Pamper her and pitch in around the house.
6. Dare to be known by her.

This was the progression that I myself had followed—or was in the process of following. In support of my six steps, I cited ‘Net and newsgroup testimony posted pseudonymously over the years by worshipful husbands and worshipped wives, all of whom were busily practicing what I was still mainly theorizing about.

Happily, my own experience in the years since has confirmed what I wrote in 2000, namely that “The transformations described in Worshipping Your Wife are real, the ideas workable…”

Does the program always work? Of course not. Sometimes it never even gets off the ground. Husbands who suddenly and enthusiastically spring this revolutionary notion all at once on an unsuspecting wife, whether in their own words or by handing her a book (like mine!), are likely to be met with healthy skepticism, maybe outright rejection. Where did all this weirdness come from?


Husbands who opt, on the other hand, for the cautious and incremental path to wife worship, a process often called “stealth submission,” may encounter other obstacles. A few weeks of overzealous dishwashing and gift-giving may leave the wife in utter puzzlement. What’s gotten into my Oswald?

Emily and Ken Addison describe this impasse clearly in their Around Her Finger books and on their blog :

“Women are very often confused by this approach. They ask their husbands what is behind the change in behavior, but their husbands have not yet mustered the courage to articulate their honest feelings… It is not enough for most [husbands] to simply undertake to serve and pamper their wives. There must be some explicit acknowledgement on the part of the woman [of her leadership in the marriage] or else the man is left unfulfilled.”

For many guys, alas, it doesn’t take much discouragement to get them to abandon the whole wife-worship campaign, stealthy or otherwise. The novelty and initial euphoria of doing housework wear off fast, and the wife’s skepticism is thereby validated. Ditto for the husband whose wife hands back the FLR printout or book or impassioned confession with a firm, No-Sale expression. He is likely to give up and go back to not worshipping her, unhappily ever after.

These husbands may ask themselves, Was it all imaginary? Was I just pretending to be this ultra-romantic guy who wanted to suddenly treat my wife like a queen?

Like this guy, who writes: “What if I convince my wife to go for this new arrangement where she’s the queen of everything, and then I change my mind? What if serving her all the time was just a big, stupid fantasy after all?”


The answer, I guess, is that if you give up, it was never meant to be. You weren’t sincere, it was just a fantasy, and you never really wanted it that bad. Whatever. And don’t blame your wife for seeing through it, for not embracing a wild idea that you yourself were not committed to.

A husband in this quandary wrote for advice to Katherine West, who blogs occasionally at Loving Female Authority. Her answer was forcefully to the point: “In a recent comment to one of my posts 'Quiet Guy' complains that his wife refuse to believe that he'll start doing more housework. Well, Quiet Guy, prove it to her. Get up at 4:00 a.m. and have it done before she's out of bed, if that's what it takes. [This] is very serious business. It is not a game. Until she's received her 52nd foot rub from you, until you've made some token confession of your [total devotion], until you have made every effort to prove to her that you are there to serve her, then don't give up.”

Another wife gives a similar response in a letter to the Addisons' Around Her Finger blog: “About four years ago [my husband] tried to communicate his feelings to me [about wanting a wife-led marriage]. He did a good job. But, what he said and how day to day life was lived were two different things… It wasn't until my husband actually started walking the walk and not just talking the talk did I take [him] seriously. He started doing the housework, running the errands, all the things I had done for the past 24 years.”

You can’t just close the deal, in other words, on the basis of a feverish sales pitch accompanied by sales pamphlets full of glowing testimonials from happy wife-worship customers. Talk is cheap, as Liza Dolittle sings to Freddy Eysford Hill in My Fair Lady: “Show me now!”

Which is exactly what this devoted husband did in a successful “stealth” campaign that last many years:

“To convince my wife that I truly wanted to worship and serve her as my queen took years of dedication to housework, child-rearing and pampering without any thought of reward. I did the chores cheerfully and enthusiastically. Yet, each time I failed and became lazy, I felt that I took several steps backward for both of us. I was moving from one equilibrium to another in terms of our relationship, and I needed to be perfect, not anything in between, not just sometimes. Ultimately I convinced her that this was my life, that I was fulfilled in that role and didn't want anything other than to worship and serve her.”


“I decided I could not create a female-led relationship,” writes another husband. “I wonder if any man can. What I did decide is that I could be in a male-following relationship… So I settled in to serving my wife and doing my best to obey her will whether she asserted it dominantly or not. I truly had no expectation that she would change her behavior. The funny thing was that, almost immediately after I made this change, my wife changed as well [becoming comfortable in a leading role].”

A last word on the topic from another husband: “It took many years for us to learn how to get along and build a new relationship… Like the Nike add says, ‘Just Do It.’”

Questioning Manhood

I cater to my wife. I defer to her judgment, her recommendations, her desires, even her whims, on a daily basis. Most husbands don’t act like this, but my contention is that they did, once upon a time. When they were a-courting.

And turning marriage back into passionate courtship is what I both preach and practice.

But… you may ask… is it manly? Or is it wimpish? I ask myself those galling questions more often than you might think. Because I know how I can appear to others. And I have overheard occasional comments from friends or family, male and female, who view me through the optics of traditional masculinity, as less than manly.

Perhaps like the foppish young man in Robert Louis Stevenson’s “Story of the Bandbox” (from New Arabian Nights), quoted in the very first post of this blog two years ago:

“He took a pride in servility to a beautiful woman; received Lady Vandeleur's commands as so many marks of favour; and was pleased to exhibit himself before other men in his character of male lady's-maid and man milliner.”

I wouldn’t be surprised if, occasionally and safely out of earshot, I am described as tied to my wife’s apron strings. Or wrapped around her finger. As spineless, or henpecked. And, to be sure, as pussywhipped.

All true, in a sense. But, arguably, it takes a real man to put up with those kinds of putdowns. Which reminds me of the consoling words of a favorite wife-worshipping mentor, Au876 (from Lady Misato’s original husbands’ forum):

“I think it takes a real man to properly serve and worship his wife. As husbands it is our challenge to be the real man our wife wants. No matter what it is she wants, we should devote ourselves to her and strive to serve her in every way possible.”

Now that I’m pumping myself up, let me venture a bit further. I contend that catering to one’s wife actually builds character. Let me cite, in solidarity, this articulate husband:

“I look at the process of wife worship as part of my growth process as a person. I see the wife worship process as one means to look at my ego, to think before speaking. For instance, I try not to contradict my wife in public or private anymore. So part of the process for me is letting go of certain ego attachments — a big one being the ridiculous need to always be right, even at her expense. Does anyone else out there find himself looking at wife worship as a means of spiritual or personal growth?”

Well, yes, I certainly do. Some of my deferential behavior may be natural inclination. I admit to certain inborn tendencies like Harry in RLS’ story. But much of my daily deference involves struggle. I, too, confess to a tendency to interrupt my wife, a compulsion to always be right. My resolve to worship and follow my wife’s lead in all things supplies a unity of purpose to my daily life, even moment by moment, helping me to resist these compulsions and modify my natural behavior in her favor.

Finally, under this heading, I will quote myself, from a posting on May 16 of last year, “Wife-Worshippers as Monks or Fakirs?”:

“I believe there are some obvious parallels between the man pursuing a deeply wife-led marriage and a person who dedicates himself to a certain spiritual discipline or way of life. In both instances, there may be a daily sacrifice of certain creature comforts and personal prerogatives in favor of a simplified existence focused on service and devotion.

“Whether or not vows are sworn, in either case the individual attempts to set aside his own wants and wishes and to submit his will to that of another. And whether the backdrop be sacred or profane, there can be considerable struggle in this setting aside of one’s natural inclination.

“The devotee, in either instance, may be required to sacrifice favorite and even cherished things—hobbies and pastimes, appetites and desires, even traditional rights, as well as bad habits and vices—to keep his pledge and further his quest.”

Maybe I should make a list of some of the stuff I forgo or give up on a daily basis, and happily so, to be more perfectly and ardently hers.

Happily Shackled

“…And it's knowin' I'm not shackled / By forgotten words and bonds / And the ink stains that have dried upon some line… / That keeps you ever gentle on my mind.”
—Glen Campbell, “Gentle on My Mind” [actually written by John Harper, as noted by one of my readers]

Of course, it’s precisely the contractual shackling of the wandering, marauding male animal that makes civilization (and wife worship) possible. “It's the miracle of love—and commitment,” as I wrote in Chapter One of my book, citing a favorite quote from author George Gilder’s seminal work, Men and Marriage:

“Women manipulate male sexual desire in order to teach men the long-term cycles of female sexuality and biology on which civilization is based.”

Yes, manipulate. Hence, the wife-led marriage. It’s not just comic relief, watching Fred Flintstone getting his daily comeuppance from Wilma. Nor is this domestic role reversal, with the wife calling the shots, contrary to the natural order of things.

I don’t think it’s going too far to say that the “perpetual courtship” or wife-worship or wife-led marriage is really what marriage is intended to be—the daily undertaking by the husband to make good on all those high-flown, ultra-romantic promises he repeated before he got to kiss the bride.

For the wife-worship husband, every day is promise-keeping day, with “love,” “honor” and “cherish” atop his perennial to-do list—and "obey,” as well, for a growing number of worshipful husbands.

Looking through saved web postings on these intimate matters, I came across the following, attributed only to a “Ms. Justine”:

“In order for a male to fully be a man he must come under the full influence and control of a woman. The contract of marriage guarantees what the male animal most deeply longs for--to empty his testes on a regular basis. In exchange for this simple favor, he must surrender all that he thinks and knows as freedom. No longer can he do as he pleases. He must now work hard and be productive. Men only become loyal, faithful and productive when they come under the control of a woman. It is only the contract of marriage which insists that a man work and surrender the fruits of his labor."

George Gilder, I doubt not, would agree.

But, in Glen Campbell’s terms, can’t a guy “just leave my sleepin' bag / Rolled up and stashed behind your couch”? Does he got to be matrimonially bonded and shackled?

I dealt with this at some length in a previous posting, “Marriage Is No Excuse,” but the short answer is, “Pretty much, yep.”

Fumika Misato, creator of the provocative Real Women Don’t Do Housework website, explains that while it is certainly possible for a woman to be worshipped within a long-term non-marital arrangement, “outside of marriage, there is (a) a temptation on the part of the man to seek an easier resolution, and b) no committed relationship into which to invest.”

He needs, in other words, to be shackled. Happily, even blissfully shackled, if you ask me.

Letting Him

I might as well fess up. In my marriage, the impetus for wife worship came from me. I was the one making the sales pitch, though,. God knows, it was overdue. I had neglected my beautiful bride in so many ways. In fact, without my “conversion” to this courtship lifestyle, I don’t know that my wife and I would still be together.

Her initial skepticism over “wife worship” morphed into a kind of amused tolerance. Of course, I had to prove to her, over time, that this wasn’t just another crazy phase. When I began writing the book (intended primarily for her), I think she began to be intrigued.

At one point, when I was outlining all the various topics to be covered, she volunteered to write a chapter of her own: “Letting Him.”

I’m still waiting for that chapter, but, in a way, her chapter title says it all. Sure, she seems to be implying, it’s male fantasyland, but at least it’s putting the husband’s focus where it belongs, on the wife. So, ladies, why not let yourself be worshipped as your husband’s queen? Or his goddess? Or whatever hyperbolic imagery he prefers.

It’s the advice I would give to any wife who is approached by a semi-coherent husband with a tract or printout or webpage advertising the female-led lifestyle or a wife-worship marriage.

Let him—worship you. Serve you. Adore you. Just… let him.

My wife, these days, is doing so. Letting me. Not making a big deal of it. Often not even acknowledging it (best of all). It’s routine for me to make our bed, fold her nightgown carefully and lay it under her pillow. To do the laundry, and clean the house, and rub lotion into her lovely feet at night, and be instantly ready for her whenever she initiates intimacy.

And whenever I look around these days, I find another simple service right there in front of me, something to be done for her. A recent example occurred during a holiday trip, where we stayed several days at a hotel.

After we checked in and kind of collapsed, with Christmas packages and luggage all over the place, a lightbulb went off over my head. I remembered a posting on Lady Misato’s original Wife Worship husbands’ forum from my favorite poster, Au876. I saved it, so I can quote it here:

“We went to visit some of my wife's girlfriends at a lake cabin a couple of years ago. We had to take our own sheets and etc. One of the first things I did after getting the car unloaded was to make up our bed and put our clothes away. Later we were all sitting around talking. My wife asked me, ‘Have you made up my bed yet?’ One of the ladies started to laugh like that was a stupid thing to expect of a man. But I quickly responded, telling her yes and I had hung up all of her clothes, too…

“The lady who laughed made some sort of comment about what a good husband I was, and my wife responded, saying something like, ‘He knows what is expected of him.’ I was not embarrassed. I was proud of myself. I had done what I was supposed to do. The fact that my wife asked me was a sure sign she did not intend to keep my devoted status a secret from them. The fact I had already done it was a sure sign to her I was not ashamed of my status.”

Flashback to me, with that lightbulb flashing over my head. I was instantly energized. While my wife called our friends in other rooms and made evening plans, I began quietly to unpack, starting with her bag and her clothes, hanging up some items, putting others on a shelf in an adjoining wardrobe area, putting her book and reading glasses and other items on her bedside, her toiletries in the bathroom, then put away her bags. Did the same for me, even made a start with the kids’ stuff.

I had never done this simple service before. (Don’t ask me why.) But my wife took it for granted, just as Mrs. Au876 had, as if it were expected of me.

She was practicing what she had never gotten around to preaching in that unwritten chapter. She was “letting me.”