HOMAGE TO WONDER WOMAN

A woman reader of these posts sent me this compliment on the previous post: “I love that you used a photograph of Wonder Woman. I absolutely adored her growing up!”

Well, I love being complimented—especially by women readers, and in this case by one who is herself the head of a female-led family. But I have to confess that I am a recent convert. I avoided Wonder Woman comics growing up, in favor of Batman, Superman, Captain Marvel and, inevitably, MAD.

I even dialed away from Lynda Carter’s TV incarnation as Diana Prince in the late ‘70s. Until, by great good fortune, I encountered this larger-than-life Hollywood superheroine in person.

 

My then-girlfriend, a sometime studio photographer, invited me to the taping of a TV variety show, which headlined Steve and Eydie, Liza Minnelli and Joel Grey (from Cabaret) and Lynda Carter. Okay, I said, trying to be cool.

I loitered and kibitzed on the cavernous soundstage, tried not to look starstruck, which wasn’t too hard, as there was a great deal of waiting and setting up shots compared to a few moments of “Action!” I really wasn’t starstruck until I found myself standing directly in the path of Ms. Carter as she emerged from her dressing room. She was caparisoned in some kind of dazzling, spangled outfit, striding right toward me to begin rehearsing her musical number.

I estimate that she passed within a foot of me, at perigee. I can’t recall if I merited even a

peripheral glance. Probably not. Was I starstruck? “Blinded by luminescence” is a better description. By sheer overpowering female pulchritude, puissance, sizzle, dazzle, and size. A Big Girl, Lynda Carter—of English, Mexican, Irish, and Spanish descent,” according to Wikipedia. Miss World USA.

For those few moments, my girlfriend ceased to exist. And I went into total eclipse. I believe I felt my soul vacuumed right out of me by the electromagnetic force of her near planetary passage.

The most appropriate response on my part, it occurred to me, would be to fall to my knees in dumb, worshipful obeisance. I resisted that impulse, but only just.

Now, all these decades later, I recall my magical moment with Wonder Woman. And here, for the edification of all her admirers, is a scatter page of Wondrous Women from the web, featuring Lynda Carter and other raven-haired goddesses (can you name them all?), including some favorite renderings by comic artist par excellence AdamHughes.

All hail, WW!

KEEPING THIS BLOG ALIVE

The title of this post is a wee bit melodramatic. Actually, I have no intention of switching off the lights, padlocking the door and giving the keys back to Google. But regular commenter to this blog, Alex, undoubtedly spoke for many readers when he lamnted the recent infrequency of posts, and particularly of posts by dominant women.

He certainly speaks for me, though admittedly I've been keeping mum for some time. Ms. Nancy, Ms. Amanda and, a few weeks back, Ms. Jenn have each occupied this space articulately, each in her own assertive way. Ms. Nancy and Ms. Amanda seem unlikely to return, alas, though I would welcome either one; but I still hope to receive further news of Ms. Jenn and her female-led family.

I have invited other dominant ladies to post, and solicited guest-post submissions via Twitter—and do so again now. If anyone out there has a voice in these intimate and interesting affairs of the heart and psyche, you will get a cordial and receptive hearing from markremond@yahoo.com

In the meantime, I expect to hear more from Alpha_by_Day and Sam, and perhaps from several other female-led male friends. The support and friendship of like-minded,  women-worshipping (and obeying) guys have meant the world to me in my gradual “coming out” as a submissive, even though I have yet to meet any of my e-migos face to face. (But I'm planning to.)

All of which  prompts me to reprise parts of a posting from several years back on the topic of submissive male bonding:

Boys Night Out, Part 2 (July 22, 2008) 

Many in-charge wives put the clamps on their hubby’s night out with the boys, for a variety of reasons. But having done that, establishing their authority over their mate’s time, some wives encourage their husbands to seek male company—of a less macho sort.

These new male companions are hand-picked by the wives, just as my bride-to-be selected the male invitees to my bachelor party. The number one criterion for the new candidates is that they also be in female-led relationships.

The idea is that any male bonding that takes place will be within the inescapable context of their mutual interest—being controlled by their respective wives.

One way of ensuring that the two husbands reinforce each other’s commitment to the lifestyle, rather than indulge in a gripe session, is to have the wives present to set the agenda. And sometimes this is done, as you’ll read below.

At other times, however, the husbands are allowed to interact without wifely oversight. Does this lead to mutinous masculine grumblings, hatching plots to undermine their wives’ authority?

Hardly. Almost always (judging by the online discussions I’ve seen) the husbands in FLRs form an ad hoc support group, comparing notes and trading tips on ways to be even more devoted and useful to their wives. Even complaining may take the form of submissive one-upmanship, each trying to top the other with stories about how strict his wife is. A typical exchange:

Househubby No. 1: “I’m going out of my tree. My wife has teased me every night and

denied me orgasm for two weeks now.”
Househubby No. 2: “Is that all? Try two months, like my princess does to me.”

And I came across this quote from a guy boasting about his wife’s “developing dominance,” saying it was “intriguing and also a bit scary”:

“For example, only this morning she said to me, ‘I think I need two husbands, don’t you think that would be a good idea? You’re so good around the house and with the kids but we need someone handy. Plus you could compare notes on me. Wouldn’t that be fun?’ Of course, she was only joking (I think).”

Online support groups fill obvious needs for both wives and husbands in FLRs—providing reinforcement, reassurance, feedback, occasional cautionary words-to-the-wise and a wealth of been-there-tried-that ideas for taking the lifestyle up a notch.

All of these I have found to be, by and large, congenial gathering places, non-judgmental, with new members welcomed warmly by existing members, as in this exchange I saved from Lady Misato’s original Wife Worship Forum:

Old Member:
"Welcome! Get a cup of coffee, sit back and read all the posts to this forum from the beginning. You'll soon see you're not alone! Keep serving your wife, putting her first. Listen intently when she speaks and do everything she says. Encourage her to join the wives' forum as soon as she feels like it…"

New member (replying a day later):
“Thanks for the warm welcome. Having read through all of the posts on this forum (as you suggested), I have come to one conclusion that every man here feels almost exactly as i do….”

Here’s how my favorite wife-worshipper, Au876, explained how much the online ommunity of like-minded husbands meant to him:

“I too very much enjoy all the postings and knowing other husbands find joy in serving their wives. I am glad to be here and am thankful for our Founder [Lady Misato] having the grace to set up a site where men on the cutting edge can discuss, exchange and even daydream. It is great to have a place where I, and we, can get it off our chest and know we are understood by those that read our post.

“For instance, I have never told anyone that my wife sometimes punishes me by making me stand in a corner or write some mundane essay for her. Yet you guys understand why I comply and don't laugh at me or consider me a wimp (I hope) for doing so.”

Of course, Au876 was talking about a virtual gathering place, an online Cheers! bar where everybody only knows your pseudonym. A similar confession—about being stood in the corner by one’s wife, say, and submitting to it—would be much more difficult, embarrassing and unlikely in an actual support group, with guys sitting around in the same room. Or even two guys, face to face.

If or until the idea of female-led marriages becomes safely mainstream, most husbands and wives will wish to keep their domestic arrangements behind closed doors.

Yet some husbands express a longing, not to be publicly “outed,” but to share their experiences with other like-minded husbands—in the flesh, not just in cyberspace:

“It would be nice if I were able to develop real-life friendships with some other guys who are part of an FLR couple.”

This particular househusband, however, did not think he would ever have that opportunity, because his wife was very protective of their privacy, and he dare not do this without her permission.

Some FLR couples, however, actually are quite up front about their role-reversal lifestyle. At restaurants, for instance, the leading wife may take the power position, dealing exclusively with the waiter, ordering for her husband, paying the check, etc. “Ms. and Mr. Lynda BJ” were one such, who posted frequently on the old Spousechat message board. Here is a description by Ms. Lynda of one such “outing,” and how it led to Mr. Lynda making the acquaintance of another househusband:

“Mr. Lynda and I had decided to meet at a restaurant for supper. He arrived dressed in a nice pair of shorts and a polo shirt. I was late; I had a presentation to make and I was dressed in a dark blue business suit. I ordered for the both of us, unaware that this older man was watching us. He may have been in his early forties. He came up to us before we left and commented on what he had observed. He talked to Mr. Lynda while I paid the bill. He said, ‘She has you whipped boy, but, there is no better way to be! Just let her have her way. She is going far.’ He was on his weekly Boys' Night Out. The other friend he was to meet could not show up at the last minute because one of the children had gotten sick. He has been a househusband for over twenty years. He took Mr. Lynda's number; they are going to get together for a Boys' Night Out until we leave for my job later this summer.”

Somewhat kinkier forms of male bonding can take place within the context of FLR couple groups, if the wives are so inclined, as this husband explained in a posting:

“My wife and I recently had a business dinner in which our hosts were another Female Led marriage couple. After many drinks the women encouraged us men to discard our clothing and serve them naked. It was a very powerful first for us and I enjoyed it. It was my first time sharing ‘guy’ talk and tips with another househubby in a similar situation. The other hubby and I both agreed that sharing our nudity before our fully clothed wives and serving them was truly a powerful reminder of our place in our marriages… It was a thrill to be face-to-face with another submissive househusband.”

Another househusband reacted with envy: “You are so lucky! i wish i had the opportunity to talk with someone like myself who has assumed all the traditional duties of the 1950s housewife.”

What would two such husbands talk about? According to another posting, a typical

interchange might start something like this: “Susannah's husband and I got to talk about being owned and controlled by such wonderful powerful women. How we both realized it was the best way and were glad to have found such loving knowing women to train us properly.”

A final word on the topic, from another husband:

“As we move deeper into our FLRs, some of our old lives will recede as our relationship with our Wives becomes our world. Perhaps one way to cope with these painful losses is to forge new friendships with their friends.”

ALPHA_BY_DAY: AND SO I BEGAN

I was so disappointed when I got bored with my last “vanilla” relationship.  We seemed a good match and had fun together, but she was impossibly submissive. Once again I came to the reluctant conclusion that I couldn’t find enough to satisfy my inner needs.  So I broke up with her and decided to reactivate my profile on a kinky dating site. 

But, having repressed by submissive desires for so long, I was paranoid about “exposure” and felt that the only way I could freely explore my submission was with someone who had a vested interest in discretion and who specialized in unwrapping newbies like me.  And, yes, I had interest in learning more about the D/s dynamic and the mysterious world of BDSM. 

Admittedly, there were all kinds of fears, rational and irrational, swimming around in my head, but the one thing I was most afraid of was falling in love with some dominant “her.”  I mean, having the opportunity to uncork 30 years of repressed submissive desires would no doubt bond me to her very deeply and very quickly, and that made me fear an eventual and devastating loss if romantic feelings were involved with this part of my journey.

With a year left on my master’s degree, I figured this was my opportunity to get two educations at the same time, so I committed to dedicating the next year to immersing myself in learning about submission.  I vowed going in that when I found a teacher, I would obey her in every way.  Whatever direction she wanted to take my training, I would happily and energetically follow and I do my absolute best to be completely obedient to her.

As luck would have it, I met a Domme who checked all the right boxes.  Granted, some of her kinks were well beyond anything I had imagined (I had to Google a couple of them), but she was kind, and, after having dinner with her, I was pretty sure she was the one to guide me gently into a low-risk exploration of femdom. Even more perfectly, she was a lesbian and in a serious relationship with a woman. This helped me set aside my greatest emotional fear, because I can’t fall in love with someone who can’t love me in the same way.

Here’s my journal entry from the day after we met:

16 Dec 2012 – Dinner With A Domme

Last night, I had dinner with a Domme. And no, I wasn’t naked and eating out of a dog bowl. It was, at least from a distance, a casual dinner at a trendy restaurant in LA. I was nervous. For the first time in a very long time, I was so very nervous. The conversation in my head was nothing short of manic—“How do I act, what do I say? No, you can’t say that, and for God’s sake, be respectful!”

There was a middle-aged guy sitting at the next table waiting for his wife to arrive who caught about every fifth or sixth word of our conversation,n and I couldn’t help but notice when he heard one that was unexpected.

A couple weeks ago, I broke up with my vanilla girlfriend and decided that I was going to use 2013 to focus solely on exploring my submissive desires. Ironic and apropos then to be sitting across the table from this beautiful, elegant, intelligent, woman and the very last thing on my mind is dating. Instead I’m trying to hide the fact that I’m scared out of my mind. That, I must admit, was a rush. Being so far out of my comfort zone and having her sit there completely casual and comfortable was great.

So the good news is that I found the right Domme. I trust that she’ll lead me where I want to go; and based on our conversations about her interests, she will also very likely lead me in some places I’m not so sure I want to go. But that’s the best part, because I swore that I wouldn’t push my own agenda. In the true spirit of the journey, I’m going to acquiesce to her kinks and spend the next year becoming whatever she wants to make of me.

It’s particularly fun to think of our foot fetish discussion because I have literally never had a single sexual thought about a woman’s foot. In fact, I have a vanilla friend who I joke with frequently about being a germophobe. She would definitely never believe that I’d go near another person’s foot. But that’s the point of learning to serve, isn’t it? If she likes it and I want to learn to serve, then it doesn’t really matter if I’m into it. Heck, for me at this point, I get turned on by being told to do something I don’t want to do, so this should be a very interesting year.

She seems very comfortable with the fact that I’m a newbie. The bad news is…I’m a newbie. I know it sounds stupid, particularly to folks with D/s experience, but I don’t know how to submit. Is it being less of ‘me’? Is it balancing my alpha side? Is it a release of a lifelong inner need to submit to a woman?

In closing, I’ll share a caveat. I have no illusions about our pending relationship. It’s actually quite refreshing to know this going in. She’s my teacher, I’m her student. I expect nothing more. Well, OK, that’s not entirely true. I expect to be a somewhat sluttier student when she’s done with me.

We would have our first session together a month later. There really aren’t words to describe how nervous I was.  I mean I’m 40 years old; when was the last time I actually felt fear?  Blinding, paralyzing, stammer-inducing fear? And here I was about to taste that which I have coveted my entire life. 

I won’t describe the details other than to say that I was literally shaking and short of breath to

the point that she put her arms around me and assured me that I was safe.  And at the end, she allowed me to kneel in front of her and wrap my arms around her legs and hug her like a child.  I squeezed and squeezed her and kept repeating the words “thank you” over and over again.

I walked away that night knowing that the surge of electricity in my brain and the quiet peace in my soul were telling me I had found my place at last.  That my submissive desires were OK. They were right. They were me. And in the weeks ahead, I would find newfound emotions surging within. A man who hadn’t cried in 30 years was all of a sudden in tears two or three times a week.

I also knew that this was just the first phase of my journey, and that real submission, the kind that I had dreamt of my whole life, required romance, love, commitment, and emotional courage. The vulnerability I was learning to embrace was nothing compared to the vulnerability of a man who happily serves his wife. And I started seriously to dig into research on female-led relationships.

The course of my training would take several unexpected turns. I found out that there were certain things that I have a natural inclination toward, like service and obedience.  And that those things genuinely brought me joy. I’d have the opportunity to meet and serve several dommes over the next few months, culminating in serving a ladies tea and also volunteering as a server at a fundraiser for women’s empowerment. 

It was around this time that I began to see things a little more clearly. I began to understand that

female-led relationships aren’t in and of themselves a kink. “No kidding,” you say? But remember, I’m still just a newbie, so this was a big moment for me. I also began to realize that having more experience with “kink” doesn’t build my resume as a prospective submissive hubby. Sure, I think it would be fun to keep trying new things, but my aptitude for domestication, my love of cooking, my joy of service, and the deep satisfaction I get from obedience are all far more valuable to me as I step out into the sunlight of FLRs.

—Alpha-by-Day (who writes his own blog, My Journey Into FLR)

SAM: A SERVANT’S HOLIDAY ON CRETE

My recent trip to Crete, I’m glad to report, was a resounding success with regards to my servitude to my wonderful girlfriend, Sarah, and her Matriarchal Family—Jennifer (Sarah’s sister) and Linda (their mother). I thoroughly enjoyed two weeks of waiting hand and foot on my superiors—just as the Ladies enjoyed having their faithful male servant working 24/7 for their benefit and comfort.

Over and above the nonstop Female-led activities going on in our holiday apartment, there was an unmistakable and delightful example of Female on display most mornings for  all of us to observe while enjoying our breakfast.

Just across the street a gift shop was opened at about the same time each morning by two Women, a girl and two boys. Just who was in control was obvious from the outset. The Women pointed their fingers and snapped orders, and the two boys worked rapidly and obediently as directed—shifting heavy clothes rails into position, struggling to carry heavy boxes and lining up numerous racks of gifts, all the time watched and worked by the Women.

 

As for the Girl (their sister?), she spent most of her time sitting down, sipping iced coffee, only occasionally joining the Women to suggest that something might be better repositioned. The obedient males were quickly summoned to carry out this “donkey work.”

My wonderfully Pro-Female family thoroughly enjoyed this display of male subservience and commented on how natural and right it looks—and how natural it is—for males to work for, serve and obey Females. Linda, the supreme Matriarch of our clan, suggested that “the only thing missing is a whip in each Woman’s hand!”

 

 I replied, with some trepidation, “I don’t think they need whips; they have their males fully trained.”

I must apologize for the brevity of this posting. Since our return from Crete, my life has been even more hectic. Not only is Linda making the most of her position as Matriarch and keeping her male servant hard at work, but she has loaned me, free of charge, to a Female friend of hers—an artist. Not for housework, as has happened many times before, but to model!

So—last week I posed nude for this woman and two of her friends (luckily I keep myself in shape). And Linda has just informed me that next week there will be at least seven Ladies drawing me.

I admit it—I’m terrified.

ALPHA_BY_DAY: THE ORIGINS OF MY SUBMISSION

I always enjoy hearing about the development of people’s kinks. That first moment you knew something was different. For many of us those moments occurred before the Internet. And that made it difficult to seek out information that would help us understand and identify our desires.

It wasn’t until my early twenties that I even heard terms like “Female Domination” or “submission,” and yet I had already spent more than 10 years harboring the secret desire to submit. I had long attributed my first feelings of submission to women as being a memory from when I was 12 years old, but the more time I’ve spent examining it recently, the more I realize that there were other catalysts.

An obvious place to start is that I grew up the youngest male in a female-led household. My mother was in charge of the family and ran the household unilaterally as we were a working-class family and my father was very rarely home because of his grueling work schedule. When my mom wasn’t home, my oldest sister was in charge, and in her absence my other sister was in charge. My brother, for the most part, was absent from my life. So I had what I would consider to be a very happy, well-adjusted childhood, but one that was decidedly under female authority at all times.

After 48 years of marriage, my parents are still together today and they both very openly, honestly, and happily discuss our female led family. Just the other night, my father said, “I trusted your mother to run the household. She was in charge of the family and my job was to provide.” And to that, my mom echoed, “We were a good team and still are. We both knew our roles.”

So that provided a solid base and good example of both a successful, loving relationship and a well-balanced female led household. And several of my early interactions with women (girls at the time) would also play a role.

One that very recently took on new meaning for me was the very first time I kissed a girl. I was 10 years old and had been “dating” the girl down the street for almost all of the fourth grade school year. Very early into that summer, I was hanging out with her and her best friend. We’ll call them “Paula” and “Jen.” Spending the afternoon swimming in Jen’s pool, we all ended up sitting on the roof of her house over the garage, and she asked the question of whether Paula and I had kissed yet.

Of course we hadn’t and shy, nervous little boy that I was, Jen took it upon herself to make it happen that day. “Kiss her. Oh, come on. God, don’t be a wimp.” And then she finally grabbed the back of my neck and pushed me toward Paula for the most awkward, forced peck on the lips imaginable. I hadn’t given that moment any thought in many, many years but looking back through the lens of my current submissive mindset, I can accept that the kiss itself was only a small part of the importance of that moment. It was actually Jen’s hand on the back of my neck that left the lasting impression.

The following summer, I was hanging out with some neighborhood friends when one of them brought out one of his father’s Playboy magazines and the four of us sat there making creepy remarks about the women we saw. I remember feeling a little conflicted because while the images of the women turned me on, I was creeped out by the commentary of my friends. But a few weeks later while visiting family, I would discover my uncle’s massive Playboy collection, and the first thing that came to my mind looking at the very first picture was a desire to kneel in front of the improbable goddess.

This would prove to be my first masturbatory experience, and afterward I was deeply confused and conflicted. I didn’t understand why I would want to kneel in front of this woman. I mean, wasn’t the whole idea of porno mags to objectify women? Instead I wanted to worship her. And I felt humiliated and ashamed because of it. I remember thinking, “Oh, no, what’s wrong with me?”  

Fast-forward a couple of years. I’m now 13 and competing in a state fitness challenge at my middle school, and everyone on the track team is being timed for 50-meter sprints. For expedience, boys and girls are tested at the same time meaning that sometimes, a girl and boy would be lined up at the same time since only individual times were recorded and we weren’t racing each other.

I walk up to the line and this gorgeous girl lines up next to me. She has this exotic look of slightly dark skin, long curly hair and a body that was far more mature than the rest of the girls our age. We’ll call her Alexia…and I’m pretty much in awe at this point. The gun goes off and would you believe it if I said that she smoked me? I mean, I was a pretty darned good athlete all through school, and this girl beat me in a straight-up sprint. Something that all of our classmates in attendance didn’t miss out on.

She and I would go on to be great friends, and there were times in high school that we actually trained together. And it doesn’t matter that Alexia already had national junior Olympic gold medals or that she would go on to capture Division I college national championships. She whooped me. To add to the legend, Alexia would go on to Harvard Law and to this day is the absolute epitome of an alpha female in my mind. My first real “crush” was on a girl I viewed as superior to me. But surely, I was just confused, wasn’t I? This had to be some kind of immature phase, and before long I would start to have “normal” feelings toward women… wouldn’t I?

The night that I lost my virginity occurred when I was 16, the week before school started. My best friend and I were both working the closing shift at the restaurant and had told our parents that we were sleeping at each other’s houses. Instead, we were going to a party at a friend’s house. We’ll call her “Erin.” By the time we arrived it was after midnight and the party was beginning to quickly die down. We drank fast and furious to “catch up” and somewhere around 2:00 a.m. it was just the two of us and Erin left. She said we could crash at her house since we had been drinking, and both John and I crashed out on the two couches in the living room. But a few minutes later, she came out of her room and pulled me off the couch and dragged me to her bedroom.

Erin stripped me naked, threw me down on her bed, climbed on top of me and took complete control of the situation. She asked if I had a condom, but virgin that I was, I wasn’t even sure what that was. No problem. A drawer opens, she feels around in the dark, rips it open, puts it on me without ever stopping her kissing and fondling and grunting. In retrospect, I remember being amazed at how good she was at all of that. Needless to say it was my first time and I’m quite sure that it was terribly fast and unsatisfying for her; but for me, lying helplessly beneath her as she held down my hands and had her way with me, I was in heaven. I had no control over my first time with a woman. And I loved it.

Despite all of these seemingly obvious signs, somehow I didn’t catch on. I would maintain these submissive fantasies and feel guilty about them over and over for years and years. All of my most successful long-term relationships were with vanilla women who were attracted to my “alpha male” personality. You see, for whatever reason, I’ve always felt a very natural inclination toward leadership and I have an extroverted personality and an easy smile that enables me to relate to people in a very comfortable way. I can be gregarious, and people who meet me professionally get a very pointed glimpse at my leadership characteristics whether I intend it or not.

Examining all of those vanilla relationships over the years, I see that I was playing the part I thought they wanted me to play. I was so focused on making them happy that I pretended to be happy in a “male-led” relationship for their sake. In a sense, you could say that I was “bottoming from the top” so to speak.

But ultimately, I left each of those relationships because I wasn’t truly happy and didn’t feel authentic. Yet through it all I repressed my submissive desires. Or tried. In reality, my submissive fantasies went from “occasional” to “part-time” to “most-of-the-time” to “always”; and what was left was a feeling that I wasn’t being myself by pretending to be happy in these vanilla relationships. All those years I thought I could pretend to be vanilla so that I could find a woman to love me. And yet, it wasn’t the real me they fell in love with, and so I continually found myself isolated and immune.

At the age of 40, still confused and conflicted about why I couldn’t find a long-term, sustainable love, I realized at long last that I hadn’t allowed myself to explore the one thing that felt the most natural and authentic—those inescapable feelings of wanting to submit to the opposite sex.

Eight months ago, I decided finally to pursue my submissive desires. As a result, what was once inner conflict has been gradually replaced by self-acceptance. I understand my needs and have a renewed sense of self. I was never more free and empowered than the first time I knelt before a woman. And I look forward to sharing my continued journey to find a female led relationship.

­—Alpha-by-Day (who writes his own blog, My Journey Into FLR)