Chapter 1

Normal? What is Normal? I used to think I knew what it was. The Television told me that the man was the breadwinner, head of the household, and he wore the pants in the family. The old TV show “Father Knows Best” cast the father as the wise patriarch who had everyone’s best interests at heart. His family trusted him to make all the critical decisions, handle the finances and ensure that there was a roof over their head and food on the table.

In the 1970’s, Enjoli made a commercial about a woman bringing home the bacon and frying it up in a pan. On the surface they were selling make-up to a new generation of women – one that wasn’t satisfied with the status quo. They were entering the workforce and they expected equal rights and respect.

Marriages began to take on more of a partnership feel to them where both spouses had an equal say in the finances and how the kids were raised. They also had equal responsibility to change diapers and clean the house.

I doubt my father would have been able to understand a generation of men that “allowed” women to circumvent what he considered the natural order of things with men on top in a male-led household.

I, on the other hand, have always been a people-pleaser. I worship my wife and I want her to be happy, even at the sacrifice of my own. My marriage vows were to love, honor and obey her and I meant it. I have a hard time telling people “no”. I’ve always been that way.

My wife and I don’t have what many would consider a “normal relationship”. We aren’t an old fashioned male-led household. We have nothing against people who live that way, but it isn’t our way. We also aren’t an equal partnership. I think we may have been at first, but after a few years of marriage, the natural order of things balanced out with my wife taking on many of the roles of leadership and authority in the household.

She isn’t a wicked overseer or a ruthless nymphomaniac driven by her need to cuckold me as she fucks other men. I am sorry to disappoint you if your first thought about a female-led relationship is that it is just a reason for a woman to fuck other men.

It is really no different than “Father Knows Best” in our household except the title would be more apt to say “Mother Knows Best”. My wife is wise, caring, considerate and stern. She handles the finances and keeps a tight control over our spending. I’d be inclined towards frivolous purchases and indulgences for her and my family if it were up to me how we spent our money.

I do work for a living and bring home a nice paycheck, but my wife does as well. We’ve never compared paychecks – we each contribute to the house in our own way. I don’t even know how much she earns.

I do handle most of the chores around the house. I used to do it all by myself, but when my son Freddy was old enough, he began helping me with some of the basics, like lawn care and laundry. I am not the perfect husband. I do have my lazy times when I slack off and make excuses.

I believe my wife and I make a great team because knowing that she expects better from me often inspires me to stop being lazy and take care of the housework so she can focus on the things that she has to do and not worry about such trivial matters.

She handles the discipline around the house. We have two daughters and one son. My daughters Myra and Athena are self-reliant, confident and fully empowered, much like their mother - to take life head-on. My son Freddy is a little more like me. He is a year younger than Myra and a year older than Athena. He isn’t as mature as either of them.

Myra and Athena have chores around the house as well. As an example, they have to pick out Freddy’s clothes in the morning for school and make sure he gets up, brushes his teeth and eats breakfast in time for the school bus. Without their assistance, he would be notorious for being late because he doesn’t like mornings. They also make sure he goes to bed on time and takes his shower at night so he’s well rested for the day ahead.

As I said, everyone contributes to the house in their own way according to their means.

Recently we had a little change of routine at our house. Kim decided that our youngest daughter is now old enough to stay up later. For obvious reasons, Freddy kept his normal bedtime of around 8pm.

Here’s how it works. Say we are all watching TV together (as we often do). At a time of Her choosing, my Wife will just clap Her hands and say, “Okay, boys to bed.” That’s her signal that it’s time for us to brush our teeth, use the toilet and put our pajamas on before saying good night to everyone and climbing into our beds. Myra or Athena will tuck Freddy in before they return to the living room.

My son was at first indignant and at having to go to bed earlier than his younger sister and that she was the one to tuck him in and give him a kiss on the forehead but he dealt with it fairly well overall. I must say that I, too, was a bit miffed at first. But of course, I tried not to show it. That would have undermined my Wife’s authority.

Later on in our own bed when she joined me, my Wife listened to my respectfully expressed reservations about sending me to bed so early. She considered the matter and agreed that I would be allowed to stay up if I had household tasks that needed to be completed. Otherwise, it was to be bedtime without complaint, for “both boys.”

As a result of this new routine, there were initially groans and plaintive pleas from our son at bedtime usually revolving around him wanting to finish watching a particular TV show. My daughters, the angels they are, always assured him they would record it or find it on other media so that he could watch it at a more appropriate time. Freddy adjusted very quickly.

It’s a funny feeling for me at first, not being able to stay up as long as a child (and my own child, at that), but I think it sends a very good message to all of our children about the respective positions of the sexes. My wife is also more than willing to suspend the girls’ bedtimes if they are not able to get up early enough to ensure that Freddy is on time for the school bus.

And it gives time for the Ladies to be together and discuss important things without males being about.

The pro-Female dynamics in our family may be unconventional at the moment, but the Female Led movement is gaining ground fast, and I feel that my children will one day be ahead of the game and better prepared for the world that is coming. I never really considered us to be at the forefront of any movement – it all happened kind of organically.

When it comes to our children, my Goddess Wife and I put the girls first. Their happiness is central to our family. My wife and I both make sacrifices for them, but we find that there is more scope for me to give things up—with the help of my Wife.

For example, I used to eat too many sweet things, and now, at my Wife’s direction, that has stopped. The idea that my Wife likes to promote for males is one of being slim and trim, and for Women to be rounded and larger.

We both agree that the pervasive effect of media stereotypes (and, to an extent, the “War on Women”) has been to make females thin and weak through dieting and shame about size.

In our family, the Women are large and strong, while the calories are properly restricted for us males.

Here’s how mealtimes embody this family’s dynamic. My son and I must wait for the ladies to start first so they may have first choice in certain food items. Either we start to eat only after the females have already begun their meal, or we may eat at a later time.

Either way, Freddy and I have smaller portions. It only takes a glance from my wife for us to know when we should remove the extra potato or whatever from our plate. Sometimes one or both of us will still sneak in a heaped spoon when it comes to peas or corn though. We both really do love our peas and corn even though we know heaping spoons is inappropriate. As I said, I’m not perfect.

The point is that in this way, the most basic apportionment of power in the family is demonstrated through the apportionment of calories. I suppose I could be ‘macho’ and demand a bigger share of food, but my wife always ensures I have enough to satiate my hunger and sustain me while avoiding excessive weight gain.

Clearly, the idea that the big lion gets the lion’s share of the food is reversed in our house. It’s the Lionesses that get the Lionesses share.

You may think that would make me disgruntled but I’ve been quite happy with this arrangement. Left to my own devices, I lack the self-control not to snack between meals. If I were to attempt to sneak an Oreo out of the cookie jar, I am sure my daughters or even Freddy would tell on me. I am not sure what my wife’s reaction would be to cheating on my diet, but it is sufficient to say that I don’t wish to find out.

I encourage my son to celebrate, learn from and empower women. I know Freddy sees a double-standard that the girls can freely take a snack or a juice pouch from the fridge. He may even be the one tasked with getting it for them while they watch TV but like me, I think he understands at a core level the reasons for our restrictions. He’s a good boy.

Do we really think the interests of our son are less important than the interests of our daughters? That the opinions, desires and hobbies of our daughters are more important than his? Just because they are female and he is male?

Throughout history, girls were taught that men were more important, that the goals of men were more important than their own. That is just plain wrong and it’s embarrassing to think my gender could ever do such a thing. That’s partially why our family is different. In a female led home, girls need to learn to lead males and, yes, because they are female, they need to understand the importance of seeking hobbies and activities that will fulfill them.

As a male, their brother understands that sometimes he needs to forgo his own interests so that his sisters may have the opportunity to pursue theirs. It’s more than just atoning for the sins of male kind. It’s simply doing his part to ensure that females get their well-deserved share of opportunities.

If he was always allowed to pursue whatever he wanted, often the girls would not be able to enjoy what they want. Freddy’s been raised to accept that brothers need to accept the importance of always placing the female first, helping her become the woman she can be and Freddy is a well-adjusted boy.

So, yes, in my view, the importance of our interests are less important than the interests of his sisters; they need to be for girls to be able to lead in their home and society. My interests are still important, just not AS important.

Much of my interests involve crafting things for the house. I love to work with potpourri to create a fragrant and inviting aroma in the house as well as a visually pleasing sachet for display. I work with needlepoint when I am not too busy with my chores.

My daughters know this is my role in the house and my father’s day gifts often reflect practical items such as a new apron or cookbook. Myra once got me a wonderful set of wooden-handled spatulas that I only use on rare occasions so as not to wear them out too quickly. They are exquisite!

My wife is a stickler for perfection, and she expects the house to be clean. She isn’t OCD about it being spotless though. We have kids, and there is always a chance the girls will leave something out before I have a chance to pick it up.

Freddy taught himself a long time ago to never leave something out and if he spills a drop of soda when delivering drinks to his sisters, he immediately returns to clean the mess up. He takes pride in being like his father and that fills ME with pride too.

I am very polite and I always knock before entering rooms. I always ask permission. I always say please and thank you. You may see this as a weakness, but I see this as a strength. It is also setting a great model of behavior for my son to be a perfectly considerate gentleman.

I mentioned earlier that there was a recent change in the dynamic at home with my daughters receiving an extension of their bedtimes from their mother - compared with my bedtime, that is. A number of days after that, there was another change that was even more impactful.

My wife came to me and told me that her mother was without a housekeeper. At first, I did not understand what that had to do with me and I mentioned that I was sorry to hear it. I knew better than to offer a suggestion on where my wife’s mother could place an ad for a new one. My wife’s pet peeve is unsolicited advice.

“Mom wants you to go over and clean her house from top to bottom this weekend,” my wife said plainly.

“I thought we had plans to visit the beach this weekend, my love?” I asked my wife. Her name is Kim in case you are wondering if my wife has a name. I rarely use her first name because I prefer pet names such as ‘goddess’, ‘queen’ and ‘my love’ to place her properly on a pedestal.

“WE do and we will go to the beach, but YOU will go to Francine’s and clean her house. Why are you being so difficult about this, Jasper?”

“I’m sorry, love! I didn’t mean to sound reluctant,” I defended myself. My wife saw that as defensive behavior and verbally corrected me. Afterwards, I felt like a total cad for being so uppity. I was sure to thank her for her correction and together, we explained to the kids that I would not be coming with them to the beach this weekend.

Freddy sighed but I told him that he would have to be the “man of the house” while I was away and carry the cooler to the beach, set up the umbrella and ensure that the girls had enough suntan lotion available.

My wife dropped me off at her mother’s house on the way to the beach. I kissed her goodbye, and she grabbed me by my shirt roughly which really got my attention. “Make me proud, Jasper. If my mother complains about you, then we will have to have a VERY serious talk on the way home.”

I didn’t want to have that talk. I would hate to disappoint my wife and I believe she knows that. Still, the message was clear. Kim was giving me a chance to excel outside our home and she was trusting me with a big responsibility. I smiled and pledged that I would do my utmost to please her mother. I even called her Mrs. Walker to convey the same seriousness she was imparting to me.

My mother in law’s husband passed away when we were first married and she never remarried. It’s easy to believe she’s still in morning all these years later. As a result, I’ve spent very little time with Francine over the years. I’ve always suspected she can’t easily stand to be around men of lesser caliber than her late husband.

When she comes over for the occasional Christmas dinner, I get to give her barely a nod in greeting before I’d have to disappear into the kitchen to prepare the meal and she’d already be off to the living room to spend time with her grandchildren.

If I only had two words to describe Kim’s mother, they would be rigid and loving. The last time I’d spoken to her was briefly after Christmas dinner two years ago. I’d delivered a sherry to her to settle her stomach after the large meal.

I remember Francine saying to Kim that she would never remarry because she had found the love of her life in her deceased husband, and no man could ever match up to what she once had with him. I’d had to return to the kitchen to clean up and once I was finished there, I discovered that Francine had left again.

This assistance I was lending, would be the first time I would spend any appreciable time in Mrs. Walker’s presence since I’d met the woman. I knocked on her door and waited for some time with my packed bag.

I was reluctant to knock a third time after ten minutes of waiting patiently. I know that Kim gets annoyed when someone knocks repeatedly at our door when she is busy and I’m at the other end of the house unable to hear the knock. In my case I was lucky because after less than fifteen minutes, Mrs.Walker opened the door. I’d begun to worry I’d be in for a long wait if she’d gone to the grocery store or something

Kim’s mother regarded me as if I were a stranger, looking blankly at me as if I were a vacuum cleaner salesman or something.

“Hi, It’s Jasper!” I greeted her after the pause got too uncomfortable for me. She had been at our house less than two years earlier. I thought she would recognize me. She didn’t until I clarified that I was married to her daughter, Kim.

“I know who you are. You are here to clean. You should not have brought so much luggage. You’re only here for the weekend,” she sniffed derisively at my luggage. I only had a small travel-sized carry-on bag. The kind you can put under your seat on an airplane.

“I wanted to have some changes of clothes in case you decide we are going out to eat or go shopping,” I smiled politely.

“WE won’t be, and you won’t be wearing clothes while you clean.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Jasper, I am not in the habit of repeating myself. What part of what I just said do you need re-explained?”

“All of it, I am afraid,” I smiled nervously. It was unthinkable to clean a house without clothes in front of another woman beside my wife.

“There is no point in getting your clothing dirty while you perform chores. You have no one here to impress and I doubt you have anything swinging between your legs I haven’t seen before. Disrobe at once.” She wasn’t suggesting – she was telling me what I had to do as though it was a foregone conclusion that I’d act immediately.

I thought better of arguing and what she said made sense. I felt myself getting a little tingly at the thought of cleaning in the nude. It seemed so naughty. I would never have dared do that at home. I urged her to permit me to come inside so that I could comply with her order.

“Are you bashful, Jasper? I haven’t all day. Remove your nasty shoes, and clothes at once,” Francine made it clear that I was going to have to undress on her doorstep. She lived on a quiet cul-de-sac, but it was still possible someone could see me through one of their windows.

I blushed, bit my lip but hurriedly began to undress. I left my underwear for last in case Francine had meant for me to keep my underclothes on. She seemed to understand my reluctance and insisted the entire kit be removed including socks and underwear.

“Where is your cage?”

“My what?”

“Cock cage, chastity device. Surely, you have one?”

“No, I don’t ... that is to say I have no idea what you mean,” I blushed as I held my hand over my growing erection. The fact that she was staring at me and I was standing in a breezy doorway as naked as when I was born was doing something to stand my manhood at attention which only added to my embarrassment.

“I am going to have to have a talk with Kim,” Francine tisked loudly. “This is totally unacceptable. You have an erection. Do you think I want to see that?”

I did think she wanted to see my manhood because she was the one who ordered me to undress. I didn’t challenge her though. I knew that would be a mistake and it’s not in my personality to challenge authority anyway.

“Wait here.” She slammed the door in my face and left me standing outside in broad daylight. It was a quiet day in a nice neighborhood. I tried my best to angle myself so that my butt was covered by the mailbox on the porch and my hands were covering my full blown erection. What could I do, though? I’d been made to strip then told to wait.