Gynecocracy

EPILOGUE

The petticoat, as administered by Mademoiselle and then by Beatrice, after all is said and done, I consider extremely beneficial.

A woman can make a man. In the first place she has the monopoly of the making, for she alone can conceive and give birth to him, and in the next place she can make him by discipline, by instilling her common sense into him, and by keeping him rigidly under her thumb. I do not believe that I should be what I am but for this education.

I confess-whether I shall be pitied for it or not-that I love my bondage and I love my tyrant. She has developed me intellectually and physically.

The physical compensations are so many and so great. There is a wonderful luxuriousness and sensuality in being made to bow down before a woman, and to perform her behests, which is not experienced when one takes the initiative one's self.

My lady's stockings and drawers upon me give me, whenever I am reminded that I wear them, an electrifying thrill through and through. And as for the management of affairs, well, they are much better managed by my wife than they could be by me.

Still there is something in me which assures me that man was made for more than the petticoat. This world is woman's earth, and it is petticoated all over. Theirs is the dominion, turn and twist the matter as you will. Therefore, I conclude there must be some other world where men will have a ruling part to play.

Still, I trust even there, it will not be without woman, her influence, and the great mystery of sex.

Is this the reason why it is written that into a certain kingdom the effeminate will not be admitted?

I wish the word defined. What is effeminate? Effeminacy cannot be the product of wholesome discipline.

"Julian, writing still!" It is Beatrice's voice. "Go to my bedroom at once, Sir!" I tremble and go. I must.

Julian Robinson, Viscount Ladywood