I’m trying a few themed posts just at the moment. This is a theme some of you seem to like, presumably because it deals with such a subversive, transgressive topic: men’s lib.
Dangerous to bring politics into what is intended to be a fun and sexy blog and I certainly don’t want to offend anyone. Nothing in this post should be taken in any way as an endorsement of a political programme of equality for men.
…and a little bonus story.
Speaking truth to power
“The so-called men’s liberation movement” Simon wrote “is an
absurd caricature of a true political cause: its slogans meaningless, its
demands more like an infantile tantrum than a realistic political
programme. I regret wasting so much of
my life on it. Men simply are not the
equals of women, and the sooner we accept that, the happier we will be.”
He stared at the sentence he had just written. Strong stuff.
A complete repudiation of everything that he had fought for and believed
in for all of these years. But it had to
had to be said.
He imagined the horror that an activist in the movement
would experience, on reading those damning words. Or indeed, how he himself would have reacted
just a few months before. He had been ‘Commander
Riotboy’, shadowy author of numerous savage polemics against the oppressive
matriarchal system and the attitudes – of both men and women – that allowed its
injustices to be perpetuated down the generations. Oddly, the strongest memory for him was a
smell – the smell of the hot ink as the illegal press whirred furiously through
the night, stamping out copy after copy of their newsletter, to be stapled,
transported around the country and furtively distributed on any of those rare
occasions when men gathered together without close female supervision.
He remembered running too, the sounds of pursuing police
whistles seemingly right behind him, his comrades seized to be taken no doubt
for ‘re-education’. He had always
somehow escaped to fight on another day, in the process becoming something of a
legend in the movement. Riotboy – the man
who would never give up.
But that, he reflected, had all been before he met Karen. And here he was. A meek
little househusband, dressed in skimpy little shorts that she had chosen for
him, beneath which his cock nestled securely in a locked tube to which only she
had the key. Where before he had devoted his life to producing articles furiously
calling for male liberation, today he spent his days at his desk writing words
that said exactly the opposite. And he
felt strangely content to do so.
He sighed. Best to
get on, as Karen would be back soon, and she would come up to check on his
progress. He’d already had a hard
spanking this morning, he certainly didn’t want another.
He picked up his pen and carefully wrote the number “312.” Then next to it, with equal care (because
more than three crossings out on any one page would mean writing that page all
over again), he wrote:
“The so-called men’s liberation movement is an absurd
caricature of a true political cause: its slogans meaningless, its demands more
like an infantile tantrum than a realistic political programme. I regret wasting so much of my life on
it. Men are not the equals of
women, and the sooner we simply accept that, the happier we will be.
313. The so-called
men’s liberation movement is an absurd caricature of a true political cause: its
slogans meaningless, its demands more like an infantile tantrum than a
realistic political programme. I regret wasting
so much of my life on it. Men are
not the equals of women, and the sooner we simply accept that, the happier we
will be.
314 …”
What a long way off number 500 seemed. He hoped tomorrow’s line would be shorter.
…aaaaaand a bonus bonus little mini-story. This is from earlier in the same timeline, just after Simon met Karen:
“And what do you think about the men’s-lib movement?” she
asked sweetly.
“Men’s lib is a ridiculous idea.” Simon replied. “Men must accept their place in society and
be obedient to women, for their own good.”
There was
a pause and then an agonising CRACK! of the paddle across his buttocks. He
cried out loud at the shocking pain.
That had been the hardest yet.
“What do you think of the men’s lib movement?” Karen asked
again.
“Men’s lib is a ridiculous idea” he gasped “Men must accept
their place in society and be… and be obed – “
“No hesitation, remember, Simon. What do you think of the men’s lib movement?”
