three parts, the fond reminiscence of “Leo,” a 58-year-old submissive male, about coming of age in a strict matriarchal clan headed by his mother and her sister. In this continuation, Leo recalls how, in his early teens, he discovered that his mother regularly cuckolded his father, and, amazingly, how his father seemed to accept this humiliation almost as a badge of pride.)
I was 14 years old or so when I first realized that Mom had lovers. She used to go out some weekends and sometimes not come home until the next day. In my naivete at that age I thought she spent those nights with some of her girlfriends or with my aunt (her sister), but one night something happened that made me understand the reality about Mom’s erotic wanderings.
It was a rainy night, I’m thinking around three a.m., when I heard Mom come home. From my room I heard the front door open abruptly downstairs and then my mother’s high heels clicking on the wooden floor of the front hall. Next I heard Dad moving downstairs, hurrying from the living room, perhaps anticipating what came next—his wife's angry voice.
“Where are you, idiot! “ she roared. “It's raining and you’re not able to come out to meet me with an umbrella? You good-for-nothing! “
As I noted in my earlier postings about growing up in a strict matriarchal home, it had become a habit, perhaps a compulsion, for me to eavesdrop on some of my parents’ intimate conversations and interactions, some of which, as I have admitted, I found extremely arousing.
“I'm sorry d-d-dear,” my father stammered, “I'm r-really sorry, I—”
Dad's cringing apology was silenced with a strong slap. Mom was really angry, I realized. But, instead of being troubled, I have to confess that I liked knowing that Mom was angry and that she was about to assert her supreme power and authority over my father.
Now let me pause to point out that this was in the early ‘70s, when the miniskirt was just becoming fashionable. Let me also note that Mom, who was in her mid-30s back then, was always a strikingly beautiful woman who relished the impact she had on the weaker male sex. In fact, she used to be openly seductive in those sexy outfits she wore, such as miniskirts, leather boots and low-cut blouses that attracted the eyes of every man in view.
Now I heard her start to climb the stairs, followed by Dad’s lighter tread. I had no trouble visualizing where his eyes would be! He would be incapable of taking his eyes off the voluptuous body of his stunning wife preceding him up the stairs. The following exchange carried up the stairwell, every word crystal clear:
“You're not going to ask me how my night was?” my mother called out with stinging sarcasm.
“I hope you had a good night, dear,” came Dad’s reply.
“Oh, I did! I truly did! In fact, my night was just fantastic! I was dancing and having some drinks with a very handsome guy. And then we went to... Well, I guess you can imagine where we went, can’t you, dearest?”
As Mom and Dad reached the second floor and started down the corridor past my room, I eased my door shut and put my ear close against it.
“I asked you a question, cuckold!” Mom demanded. “Answer me!”
A chill ran down my spine. Mom had called Dad a “cuckold!” Yes, I had a pretty graphic idea what that word meant from conversations at school with certain boys. A cuckold, they’d said, was a “wimp,” a “henpecked” guy who allowed his wife to fuck other men.
That night I realized what it really means to be totally subjugated under the superiority of a woman. In a sudden flash of submissive understanding, I saw my father not as a “wimp”—not in the way that insult is usually intended, or the way the boys at school had meant. I saw my father instead as a kind of masculine role model who was “man enough” to accept his natural inferiority to women. An inferiority that I, too, felt, deep in my soul.
I’m in my late fifties now, but that realization has stayed with me ever since. Over time I realized that when Mom or my aunt or even my sister called my father or uncle a “cuckold” or “wimp,” that they were doing it to remind them of their inferior status, a status where humility, silence and obedience are masculine virtues that all need to be reinforced again and again.
Let me add here that, although my mother and my aunt were highly educated, enlightened and classy women, sometimes they deliberately employed a crudeness of vocabulary with their husbands. I have since learned that this is quite typical of women who rule their husbands and families with a firm hand. As my Mother used to say, “A woman can treat her men how she pleases, period.”
I encourage other men, and women, to share their experiences about living in strict matriarchal households. Over the years I've had several online friends in the lifestyle, but that was several years ago back when Yahoo! groups were the best and almost the only alternative to meet like-minded people, and unfortunately I lost contact with these online companions some years back.
In closing, let me emphasize again how much I came to admire my father for his unconditional subservience to my mother. In fact, I believe that he came to take a certain submissive pride in being her cuckold, although it was obvious that it could also be deeply humbling and painful for him to have her throw it in his face so frequently. But for my father, I am convinced, this was another way of demonstrating his reverence and veneration for the woman he loved with all his submissive soul.