By Jennifer Mueler
It's never too late (for
a wife to learn) and never too late to teach (a husband). I'm one
of the women who started late in life, but it's better than not
at all. I hope my story will encourage other women to take up their
proper roles in their relationships.
I didn't think I'd ever
completely understand the male gender. I grew up with two brothers,
I'd been married for over 20 years, and I'd raised two sons. Three
generations of men, and I was still bewildered until the day I snapped
and took charge.
I saw the things my brothers
did, and I knew that in their time, my sons would try the same things.
I found the Playboys almost as soon as they brought them in the
house; they were no smarter than their uncles were when it came
to hiding them. I've heard every excuse a boy could offer for not
doing chores or schoolwork years before they were born. I knew that
the male mind was obsessed with sex and the avoidance of work.
I accepted my lot to
a point. "Boys will be boys," and there is nothing a mom
can do except lend her maternal hand where needed every now and
then. I expected my sons to behave like boys and they did. I expected
more responsibility from my supposedly grown-up husband.
My poor husband! He used
to spend hours working at his computer. Every time I stopped by
his den, he was busy pouring over spreadsheets balancing the budget
for his department at work. I wished he didn't have so much work
to take home.
My pity ended and turned
into righteous wrath the day he forgot to turn off his computer
and I decided to shut it down for him. What I found behind the spreadsheet
was a whole world he had literally kept hidden from me. There were
pictures, stories and web links to sex sites all over the world.
It was like finding my sons' stash of Playboys all over again, only
this was a lot worse.
I can understand this
kind of thinking in a young boy, they really can't help it; their
hormones are stronger than their brains. But my husband was an adult.
He had me as a sexual partner. Was I not good enough for him? I
could imagine him sitting at the computer terminal, looking at the
pictures, reading the stories, and masturbating to them. At first,
the thought depressed me then it angered me. Well, if he was going
to act like a little boy, I was going to treat him like one!
Alfred knew something
was unusual as soon as he came in the door that evening. Instead
of meeting him in my sweats and sneakers as I normally kept house,
I was dressed in my "Sunday go to meeting," gray jacket,
white lace blouse, gray over-the-knee, a-line skit, black stockings
and low-heeled pumps. It was my "power outfit;" full of
feminine flair yet conservative at the same time. It was a sure
winner at my job interviews, and I always felt empowered when wearing
it. I needed every bit of confidence I could garner to pull my plan
"Oh, hi honey,"
he said, "What's the occasion. What's with the dress?"
I merely glared at him
and crooked my finger menacingly. "Come with me." I commanded
with a voice firmer than my stomach indicated. He didn't question
a thing and followed me down the hall to his room.
I grabbed him by the
arm and pulled him into his den. Planting my feet firmly apart,
placing one hand on my hip, and pointing with fully extended arm
with the other at his computer I said, "What do you call that?"
A pornographic picture displayed incriminatingly on the monitor.
A woman has to learn
how to read a man. I learned enough from raising a couple of boys
to know shame when I see it, and I saw it in my husband's eyes which
couldn't meet mine. He bowed his head and muttered some excuse that
it was something he, "just found."
I yelled back. "There must be megabytes of 'just found' smut
like that on that machine. Some of it is sick, very sick. Don't
you lie to me, boy." I felt like I was scolding a 9-year-old
again. "What were you thinking of when you downloaded this
stuff." I continued.
"Nothing? Do you
mean you weren't thinking at all? You've been a naughty boy. I'm
disappointed in you. You should know better." I almost heard
myself say, "Wait until your father gets home," but realized
that order in this case, was to be restored by mom - me - now.
"I'm sorry, dear."
He tried to stammer.
"Not half as sorry
as you are going to be when I get finished with you." I threatened.
"You're not going
to leave me or anything?" he asked.
"Not at all! I love
you, you fool." I said, "If I didn't love you, I would
throw you out; you're worth working on and saving. But there are
going to be some changes around here. Obviously you can't be trusted
to maintain self-discipline, so I am going to supply that discipline
for you. I'm going to give you a dose of medicine to remember your
I grabbed him by the
ear, and yanked him off towards our bedroom. Surprisingly, he didn't
resist at all. I was no longer the frightened little girl standing
at the front door waiting for him to come home. I was full of feminine
confidence. I had control over this situation, and I had control
over him. From this point on, it was merely a matter of execution.
"Get those pants
off and come over here!" I said sternly.
"What are you going
to do?" He asked.
"I think you know
what I am going to do. It's nothing less than you deserve."
He swallowed hard and
complied with my wishes. Soon he was standing beside me in his jacket,
shirt, tie, and underpants! I unceremoniously pulled down his underwear,
and merely pointed twice to my lap. This was the same signal I used
to give my boys when they were pre-teens to indicate that their
punishment was imminent. My husband had no problem interpreting
my meaning either. In seconds he had his 200-plus pounds draped
over my knees with his naked butt in the air awaiting his desserts.
I decided to warm him
up with a bare-handed spanking and stern lecture. "I don't
know what I am going to do with you! You are acting like a little
boy. Imagine that, a man of your age! You should know better. I
bet you think you're such a big man, looking at pictures of naked
women like that. Well you know what happens to little boys that
do dirty things? That's right, they get a spanking just like they
deserve." I went on for about five more minutes lecturing him
on his filthy habit, dropping my palm forcibly on his rear end every
time I would normally use a comma, a period or just taken a breath.
His rear end was nice
and pink by this time, and if it was a tingly and puffy as my hand,
I am sure he would not forget this incident for at least a couple
of hours. I wanted more than that. I wanted to make sure that he
would remember this lesson for at least several days. I reached
for my hairbrush. I didn't let off until he was howling and crying
"Get up," I
finally told him. It didn't matter that I was looking up at him
as he towered over my petite frame. To me, he was just a naughty
little boy who needed some firm and loving guidance to grow up properly.
Waving my finger in his face, I continued my scolding, "I intend
to spank you as often as you need it until you learn your lesson,
young man!" "Young man!" Ha! He was 2 years older
than me. My intentions, however, was to deal with him on his emotional
level which was at least 30 years younger than mine.
But this, my sisters,
is just the beginning of my story. I knew that my husband would
need frequent reminders of his new role in our house. The hairbrush
merely reinforced my rule as the head of our household. I had my
husband put his computer expertise at my disposal, and soon had
him looking up sites where women rule and men obey. I discovered
great number of resources there. I've developed a network of girlfriends:
women like myself who got sick and tired of husbands and boyfriends
who couldn't even be considerate enough to put down the toilet seat.
I've learned a lot in
my new world. My suspicions that my husband needed to be more attentive
and do more around the house were confirmed.
You are not alone. There
are many women out there like you; women who have served their men
for too long and have had enough. Take a lesson from me and the
other women who have done it; take charge of your husband and show
him who's the boss. You'll both be better off for it