Submissive Slave Story
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Submissive Slave Story
Formerly an Emmy-nominated TV news reporter, Janie Porter is the creator of She Just Glows and (often-unshowered) stay-at-home mama to three boys 5 years old and under. Follow her on Facebook , Instagram and Twitter for more posts about less-than-perfect parenting and finding your inner glow.
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If you’re turned off by the “submissive” word in the title, trust me, I GET IT. Keep reading. (Disclaimer: I’m not a perfect wife and quite often a very crummy one. I’m also not a marriage counselor or expert on submissive marriage. I’m simply sharing what’s worked for me.)
It was nap time. I’d finally gotten all 3 boys to sleep. I collapsed onto the couch, and flipped through channels on the TV, until I landed on The Submissive Wives’ Guide to Marriage , on TLC.
I’d never heard of the show, and I was immediately intrigued. But what does it mean? It means going back to the Bible, and learning about what God says about marriage and wifehood.
The word gives me creeps. The heebie-jeebies. It makes me think of a slave or servant. A woman who doesn’t speak and doesn’t ever do anything for herself. Who lives to serve her husband, a man who must clearly be a tyrant.
The show profiles Tara Furman, a well-spoken, middle-aged, Christian wife in North Carolina. She’s in a happy, more-than-25-year marriage, and she credits it to her choice to be a submissive wife.
Does it mean she doesn’t have an opinion and lets her husband control her?
It means she focuses on being her husband’s helper, lover and supporter. And as a result, he treats her like a queen.
(In fact, I think being a submissive wife takes a very strong, confident woman.)
So about 8 weeks ago, without saying a word to my husband, I started my own submissive wife experiment. I took a few points from the show and adapted them into my own marriage.
In the show, Furman asks the viewer, “Is your dog the first person to greet your hubby when he gets home?” Think about it. Your hubby’s been working all day. He’s been gone since 7am. He fights traffic and finally gets to the front door of his home. He opens it. The dog is there to say hello, but no one else even looks up. How heartbreaking. Furman calls this process “reentry,” and every day when her husband gets home, she and their kids deposit their cell phones into a basket and greet Dad at the door. Furman also usually has dinner going and a cold beverage to greet him.
With 2 toddlers and a baby, I’m not always able to do to all of this, but I can make a point to stop whatever we’re doing when the husband gets home, get up from my seat, and physically meet him at the door with a smile and a big kiss. Sometimes, I’m nursing so I don’t stand up but I let the kids greet him at the door, and I give him a big smile and hello. One day, I thought ahead enough to get him an ice water in his favorite blue Solo cup, and had one of the boys walk it out to him at the car. Groundbreaking? No. But it made him feel special and know that we anticipated his arrival home from work.
The point isn’t that you have to have dinner ready or you have to be fake-happy when he gets home. Heck, you may work and not even be home when he gets home. The point is that, in whatever way you can communicate that your man is respected, he is the leader of the house and that the family is happy when he comes home . If you’re not home when he gets home, can you make his lunch before he goes to work in the morning, or iron the clothes he’s wearing tomorrow? However, you can communicate that you’re grateful for him. In my experience, the attitude is far more important than the action.
I’ve heard this phrase before, but it hadn’t really resonated until seeing the show. I can control my own life, the kids, the house. But when it comes to my husband, I can be content to be his helper. And, here’s what changed it for me: “just” being the helper totally takes the pressure off of me!
With 3 boys 4 and under, I have enough to worry about everyday. So now, instead of micromanaging all that my husband does too, I just let it go. And all I need to do is ask him how I can help.
For example, for years, it’s been my responsibility to manage our rental properties. Now with 3 young children to bathe, feed, change and teach, it is a huge drain to my emotional energy to manage tenants and maintenance of our properties. Rather than trying to do it all myself, I asked my husband to take over. He agreed happily. Since then, he’s been doing an excellent job, and I have the relief of knowing that he will make the best decisions for our family. I don’t need to ask him to give me the rundown of what he’s doing for the properties. All I do is ask, “Is there anything I can do to help you?” The pressure is now off me, and I don’t have to worry about it. And even if something goes wrong, I don’t have the pressure of knowing that the responsibility falls solely on my shoulders. It’s his responsibility.
For me, I’m learning that it’s more about what I don’t say, than what I do. And, I’m finding that holding back when I really want to direct or tell my husband what to do, might actually be communicating more love and respect to him than words ever could.
For example, one night we were grilling dinner, and as is usually the case, it was my job to prepare the sides in the kitchen, and my husband was going to grill the meat outside. We’d decided we wanted to eat at 5:30pm, so around 5pm, I started prepping the sweet potatoes and corn to bake inside, but I noticed my husband wasn’t starting the grill.
Rather than nag him, over and over, to start the grill. And then telling him that he never times the meat cooking correctly, I asked myself, What’s the worst that could happen? Well, the meat won’t be done until after the rest of the dinner. We might be really hungry by the time dinner starts.
Well, we can have some snacks then.
So starting that night, I made a conscious decision to not direct my husband.
Eventually, he started the grill, and we ate dinner a little later than normal, but it was fine. Since I hadn’t blown up at him, or critiqued him, it was a happy, peaceful vibe at the dinner table, and we all had fun. We even laughed! (Like, a lot.) The best part was I didn’t have to take on the role of being the “boss” of everyone in the house, as I might have previously thought I needed to. I don’t need to assume that role of being “the nagger” . The fact is, I don’t enjoy that. And, it’s not helpful to anyone.
As I continue implementing this lack of directing my husband, I’m realizing that I actually don’t need to nag. When he knows that I’m not going to be reminding him, it seems like he’s actually more likely to initiate the tasks on his own. And again, if he doesn’t, the responsibility falls squarely on his shoulders.
This happened recently when we were leaving on vacation . We were going to be staying in a beach house, which meant we had to bring almost everything with us, from shampoo to charcoal to paper plates to food. Before we left, rather than calling the shots, I asked my husband what he wanted me to do. He said he wanted me to handle the interior, and he’d take care of putting the boat on the trailer and getting the outside stuff together.
Suddenly, it became so easy. Once I knew what my job was, from him, that was all I had to worry about. And because I wasn’t nagging him to get his stuff done, he just… well, he just did it. Let me tell you, my friend. This was our very first family vacation where there wasn’t a single solitary argument, disagreement or miscommunication. We got 3 boys 4 and under (including a 5-week-old at that time) down to the beach house with all our stuff for 5 days without a single ounce of tension. It was glorious!
And it all came from me learning to take his direction, and not fighting to direct him and tell him what to do.
In the show, Furman focuses a lot on what she loves and values in her husband. And in this process, I’ve tried to start doing the same. And it turns out, it’s really helping my attitude about everything. When I focus on how hard my husband works for our family, I’m less likely to be mad when he leaves his dirty socks on the floor. When I think about how he still thinks I’m beautiful (despite 52 pounds of baby weight ), I’m not going to be annoyed that I have to take out the kitchen trash again.
As an admitted control-freak, type-A personality, this has been a huge change for me. But I simply go into each day, asking myself how I can best help my husband. And how I can show him my respect. And love.
Once I realized that I’m thankful for who my husband is, I stopped valuing him based on what he did or didn’t do. I started valuing him for the person he is .
My husband works his butt off all day, so that I can be home with our kids. My husband loves me unconditionally. When I think of it that way, why wouldn’t I want to make him feel important? He is!
Once I decided that I wanted to make my husband feel special, it just started coming out in my actions. I’d bring him his favorite peppermint tea in bed. Or, I’d pick him up some new loafers at Target, because I noticed his old ones were getting raggedy. I’d let him sleep until 8:30am on a Saturday, while I get up with the kids at 6am. Of course, with our 3 little ones, I’m not always able to do all of this. But the point is: the gratitude is there. If not in my actions, then at least in my mindset.
Alright, I’m ready for your comments and questions! Please keep the conversation constructive.
This article originally appeared at She Just Glows.
We made For Every Mom because we wanted a place online where women could experience the essentials of motherhood: Jesus, laughter, community, and really awesome parenting tips. This is a place where we’re all in it together. We may be at different stages of motherhood, but every mom is a full-time mom. And you are ALL welcome here.
This is a story I made up and wanted to share with people, hope you enjoy it.
P.S. This is not a real a story, only a fantasy.
Tommy was 13 the day when his life was fully changed.
It was Friday, the day Tommy would go to his room and talk to his friends on social networks or applications, he was home alone, as it was like this everyday. Tommy, who has a stunningly beautiful mother at the age of 30 with wonderful size 8 feet and 2 sisters that are adopted when their mother was 21, are both blonde with size 7 feet, one of which was 17 and the other 18, his father had died after a plane crash. Tommy would usually make his sisters and mother angry by his natural aggression to them, but this week, he was grounded with no computer in his room and couldn't leave his room after school hours. He was extremely bored, so he decided to ride his bike, even if it was against the rules of his punishment, but he went on to ride it anyways. After about 2 hours he parked his bike back home and opened the door, there his mother and sisters stood there.
"What on earth were you thinking Tommy?!" Yelled his mother.
"I was bored so I went for a bike ride, but that's none of your business, bitch." Replied Tommy.
His mother was just an inch from beating him, but that never worked, Tommy was a true paintballer, he could rarely feel pain.
"That's another week for you Tommy, cussing at your mother is a terrible sin." Said his mother.
But Tommy didn't care... at all.
"Can it skank!" Tommy said with anger coming from his voice.
"Go to your room we will arrange what will your punishment be. NOW!" Said his mother angrily.
Tommy could never stand his mother's screaming so he went to his room immediately. After fifteen minutes Tommy heard his name called by his mother from the Entertainment room.
"Tommy come down here, I want to apologize for the screaming and drama I did fifteen minutes ago."
Tommy rushed down and saw his mother and sisters sitting down in front of the television.
"You can watch T.V. if you're that bored." Said his mother
"Cool, where's the remote though?" Replied Tommy.
His mother had told him that she forgot where she put it and asked him to find it under the sofa, as she reminded him that it might have been there. Tommy went down on his knees and hands to look for the remote, but as he saw the remote he felt the pressure from his mother and sisters hands pressing on to his hands and simply bringing them behind his back and tying them up.
"OH WHAT THE F**K LET ME GO!!" Tommy screamed out.
His mom and his sisters dragged him to the sofa and moved the carpet, it seems that they have installed chain loops for Tommy to hold him and prevent him from escaping. His mom stood over him, she was still in her business dress, pantyhose and high heels.
"Listen, we've got you now, you're ours. You will follow every single command that we give you from now on."
"NO LET ME GO NOW!" He flinched and moved, but nothing worked.
His mother attached the loops and chains of his to the loops on the ground.
"I told you once, if you don't follow our commands, we will call the police, and set you up in a way that it would seem that you wanted to brutally murder us. So you've got 2 options."
His mother took off her high heels and held it in her hands.
"Now this is extremely necessary. I know, I know, I've been on this heels like, aaaalllll day, but you gotta accept your consequences, we're not taking shit from you anymore. So get ready to give up your life to us now."
Tommy shook his head and accepted the consequences.
"Alright here we go, first whiff for our new family owned slave"
She lowered her high heel to his face and placed the smelliest part of her foot, the toes. He inhaled, coughed and gagged he did, but he knew what his job was and had to do it. His mother and sisters laughed as hard as they could. The youngest of the two sisters took off her Puma high tops that she wore all day at cheerleading.
"Hey loser, I've been at cheerleading all day today, mind if you take whiff of what that smells like?"
"Yes Josie, I do, if it is your command and wish." Said Tommy
"Excuse me? My name isn't Josie for you anymore, from now on you will call me Goddess!" Said Josie
"Yes Goddess, you are the most powerful one and rule me. I am meant to be stepped on and nothing more." Replied Tommy
"That's better." Said Summer, Tommy's oldest sister
Their mother smiled with happiness in her, seeing her daughters dominating her son as well as her. She always thought that men are nothing more but snakes and deserve this kind of treatment from women. Josie placed her Puma on his face and held it there for a minute straight. Tommy almost died without any air in him. Summer, his older sister took off her knee high boot and placed it on his face after her younger sister was done. After several minutes they all finished choking him with their terrible foot odor inside of their shoes, boots and heels.
"Okay dear, now you need to clean our shoes, the inside and the outside, we've been walking on dirt and they're really dirty. I mean, you can't expect me to go to work with dirty heels like these will you now?" Said Mary, Tommy's mother.
"No! Smelling them is the last straw, but licking them?! I mean that's just degrading!" Tommy replied.
"Oh dear, you are a comedian aren't you? You know what's going to happen if you don't do it dear. I'm not going to clean my heels for something I didn't do, so as default you'll do it. Oh, and also you'll clean everything that I do to them too!" His mother told him with a sweet voice.
So he got to it, knowing he would have to do this for the rest of his life. After what seemed like hours to Tommy, he was finally done with licking the dirtiness from the outside of their shoes and the sweat from the inside of their shoes.
"That's right dear, suck it up. You will be doing this for the rest of your life. Oh yes and I've planned out what we're going to do to you tomorrow and so forth." Said her mother sweetly.
Part 2 will be continued soon.
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