Monday, January 30, 2017


(Arthur’s continues the journal of his submissive courtship of  the dominant Miss Ling in the lead-up to their matriarchal marriage, and his increasing service to Miss Ling's two live-in daughters from a previous marriage, Miss A, age 14, and Miss D, age 23.—Thomas Lavalle)

Yesterday Miss Ling went looking at wedding outfits with a girlfriend who got married two years ago. They had a lot of fun, girls’ time together.

This morning in bed I asked her if she was planning to show her power at the wedding. She looked at me for a few seconds, then said “Secret.” I asked her if she had discussed something like this with her friend. She smiled and said “Yes,” so I may be in for a shock. I said I think her friend has the power. Miss Ling agreed that was true. I asked her if they discussed their female power in their relationships. She said that they did, but would say no more about it. Damn!

I’m pretty sure she wants to show her power in some manner in front of all, but how, I don't know. It’s a pretty vanilla group, and it's a conservative Asian culture. But a show of power would do wonders for Miss Ling’s standing in her family, and also with the girls’ standing with their female cousins.

And of course I think back to our proposal ceremony, and especially the part where I was ordered to kiss the feet of both girls as well as Miss Ling. That was such a very special moment, never to be forgotten by any of us. I wish and hope it will happen again, and that it could become a regular ritual in our matriarchal family.

Meanwhile I'm becoming quite diligent with my laundry duties for all three ladies. Miss D prefers to do her own wash and hand-washes some underwear. But I am permitted to do her ironing after her clothes are dry.

The other day Miss D told me she had no work shirts and had to borrow one of her mother's. After she left for work, I retrieved her dirty laundry, washed and ironed all her work shirts and pants and left them neatly folded on her bed, along with her folded underwear. I also cleaned her shoes and flip flops. During all of this, I was sinking deeper and deeper into submission. When Miss D returned from work and saw all her neatly folded clothes, she gave me a big smile and thanks. I wanted to kneel at her feet at that moment to properly thank her for not being mad that I had done this without permission and to tell her that thanks are not necessary as my duty is to serve her, her sister and her Mom. But I didn’t!

However, because of her pleased reaction, I am assuming that I now have permission going forward to do her laundry. Maybe I will ask her just to be clear. If she says yes, then that will give me the opportunity to ask if she wants me to hand-wash anything. I can mention that her Mother tells me when she wants anything hand-washed. And as for Miss D’s younger sister, Miss A, she now takes my laundry service for granted, including asking me to iron specific items immediately when she wishes to wear them.

Miss Ling has taken my laundry service, or subservience, much farther. A year or so ago she would place her clothes on the bed, no matter where she took them off. I suggested politely that she simply leave them on the floor for me to pick up and put in the laundry room, that she need not remind me, that I would be pleased to help relieve her of this simple task, and that I felt this was another way a man can serve a woman.

Her response was quick and decisive. “I like that,” she announced. “Yes, that will be your job, but I expect my clothes to be picked up promptly.”

I responded with a quick “Yes, Ma’am” and a thank-you. She initiated the procedure that very day, casually dropping her clothes on the floor, and this is now an every-day, or every-night, routine. It would be great if the girls followed their Mother’s lead, but so far she has not instructed them to do so. I do pick up Miss A’s dirty clothes out of the hamper in her room, and, as I mentioned, am hoping to begin doing the same with Miss D.


Today I took Miss D to the airport. She has a four-day break and went back to her home town. I asked her if she was being picked up when she lands. She said no, but would call a male friend. I suggested that she call the friend now, before she takes off, so he can be waiting when she lands.

“You are learning from your mother that the man must always serve the women,” I said respectfully, “so here is a way you can teach him his proper role, and you don’t have to wait for him to show up.”

If you begin to think this way, I went on, in time it will be natural for you, and natural too, for some of your men friends to be under your control if they want to please you. Not all men, of course, but more and more men are seeing the light.

Miss D is still a bit confused with this FLR approach, as this is alien to her culture, but she seems to like what she hears.

I also told Miss D that I had noticed a big load of dirty laundry in her room when I was picking up the trash from her wastebasket. I asked if she would “allow” me to take care of her laundry while she is away. She smiled and said yes, and thanked me. I reminded her that I am here to serve all three of them, just as we discussed on Proposal Day. I said that I want to do it and like to do it.

She smiled again and exclaimed “I  know!” I also told her that she need not be shy if she needs something or wants me to do something. “Just ask or instruct me. I want to serve.” She promised she would.

All in all it was a good discussion we had on the way to the airport. Tomorrow I will wash and iron some of her clothes and leave them neatly stacked on her bed, which will remind her of my proper function in the matriarchal household.

In fact, as soon I got home from the airport I went to clean her shoes, starting with her flip-flops. (BTW, a shoe cleaning always starts with a respectful kiss of each shoe at the toe and inside where the female's heel rests.)


1 comment:

  1. I too spend my time cleaning up after my Wife and Daughter. At first it was the younger ones joy to in front of me just drop Her clothing on the floor and expect me to pick it up. Sometimes She would kick it further from my hand. I understood Her want to make things difficult for me and did not cavil at Her whims. Eventually the novelty wore off and my Daughter just dropped Her clothing on the floor without a second thought. I have to check as to leave it on the floor fills me with shame at a duty not properly performed and offends my sensibilities.

    For me I bestow a kiss on the garment ironed or polished after I have finished and wish it well on its way to covering their precious bodies or elegant feet.