Serve The Patriarchy - Blog Posts

a three-holed fucktoy crafted by the universe, that responds to every action you perform, that gets tighter and wetter the harder and deeper you pound it. it grasps at you, clings to you, sinks its nails into you, begs for you to claim it as your own, to use it up, to pump it full of cum whenever you see fit. the entire purpose of it's existence is to take your cock.

Yes please

Just wanna fuck you so often your mutuals ask you why you haven't been as active on your blog

Please 🥺

I want to control everything about her. Control what she wears, who she sees, where she goes. I want to dress her up like a doll. Like a mindless bimbo doll who needs me to make decisions for her. A mindless helpless toy who lives to serve and worship its master. A beautiful little fuck pet that only knows how to arch it's back and do tricks for me. A pretty little plastic toy.

I don’t have a wrong hole

girls should never have orgasms without the control of a Man. there is nothing more exhilarating than the pleasure of a man controlling any pleasure your gifted

You were having coffee with your girlfriends talking about how unhappy they were. How Amazon deliveries were their dopamine high. You just sipped your coffee.

You didn't spend your days fighting your nature. Your husband did the masculine jobs you hated. You did the feminine ones you love. And all of the jobs were done.

It beat the hell out of a dead-end job, sapping your strength. But that was the price of "equality." You'd rather be your husband's property any day of the week.

you don't need to be a "feminist" 🤢

you need to be an Accomplice to the Patriarchy 🥰🥹💕🫂

🐶

Be Daddy's pet!

Aspire to be like her

Tumblr cannot shut down. Where else can I flirt with people I have never met and probably never will

Men with breeding kinks🤝pretty girls who have separation anxiety and don't want them to pull out

Everyone said you had so much potential. That you would do great things. Accomplish so much. And that pressure just broke you from a young age, didn't it?

It was all just so overwhelming. Now, your goal is to just be a man's pretty property. To be his housewife. The greatest accomplishment you can achieve is keeping the house clean and having his kids. Stuff a teenage girl can do.

Respect Him

Your input should be welcomed and considered, but he gets the final say. Do not argue with his decisions.

It is okay to express concern and be worried, but do not be a nag. Annoying him will only push him away.

Women tend to overthink things, but his reassurances should put an end to it. Do not create unnecessary anxieties.

He should enjoy listening to you talk, but sometimes he will need silence. Do not become defensive when he asks for quiet.

Remember that he spoils you as a treat, not a requirement. Be thankful for extra gifts, but do not expect them.

You are his. act accordingly. He should never have to stress about what you’re up to when he’s not looking.

Your body is for his eyes only. Dress modestly with him in mind. You should not lust for the attention of others.

He is the leader in your relationship. Do not try to be a backseat driver. Do not challenge his authority.

Never speak poorly of him in his absence. Your negativity will say a lot more about you than it does him.

Know your place. ❤️

i love traditional gender roles 🩷

doesn’t it sound good to be such a good cunt for your man? doing whatever you can to please him sexually and non sexually too!

cleaning and cooking for him so he doesnt have to stress 😌 do all the house work and just be a loving and caring woman! and maybe while he eats the meal you cook for him you could be kneeling and pleasing his cock 🤭 and only after serving him and cleaning up after him you can eat!

just wanna serve and be a good cunt ☺️ feminists should really take a step back and think about this, it feels so good to embrace the role that we were always meant for 🩷

would you let your man fuck your ass?

Baby id let my man carve his name into me, I’m insane.

Day off, nothing to do but scrolls tumblr and answer your asks. So send some! 💞

you know when i was kinda a feminist i knew i was going too far when i realized i was really unhappy and i was actually really mean 🙁

i figured out that men didnt deserve the treatment they were getting and that feminism is just really an excuse to attack men because feminists blame them for their own unhappiness 🤷🏻‍♀️

the nicest girls ive met are actually girls who support the patriarchy and know their place too! the patriarchy is how ive found happiness ☺️ feminism is a lie and really just harms everyone

thank you to everyone who knows the true way we should all live 🩷

It was almost time for your son to be born. And your husband had sent you for a boudoir shoot. He went all out. Hair and makeup professionals are doing your look. The lingerie he selected was frilly, feminine, and expensive.

Praise from the photographer about how you are glowing. Soft, warm, flattering lighting covering your skin. And you can't help but smile. For all of the pregnancy discomfort you feel, your husband made sure you are reminded how beautiful you are.

Your girlfriends can't understand why you are with such a patriarchal man. Someone who is so controlling. But none of their husband's would do this for them, would they?

Your husband had enrolled you in pole class as part of his physical fitness requirements. And you loved it. Something he picked up on. So he planned. A few days later, you found out that he had signed you up for an amature night at the strip club.

You knew the perfect outfit, and you got advice from some of the strippers. Some careful alterations were made, and when it was time, you stepped on the stage dressed as a 50's housewife. The music clashes as Closer plays. Some carefully cut seams come away as you rip your top open. Exposing the lacy bra that doesn't hide your nipples.

Skirt and petticoat falling away to show off your panties and garter belt. Stepping out of the puddle they make on the floor before you start doing pole tricks. The audience cheered as men put money on the rail. Soon, you fling your bra to your husband. The feeling of all of those men eying you like a piece of meat makes you soak through your panties. Something the men pick up on. And the catcalls join the cheers and money on the stage.

Soon, the song is over, and you gather up the money the men left for you and go to your husband. Giving him a little curtesy before handing him the money. The look on your face screaming that you need to be railed. Now. In the VIP room, over the hood of his car, right here. He puts his hand on your ass and guides you out. The leering not stopping.

The actions of a good wife/slave:

- Complete obedience of her owner

- Maintenance of attractive appearance (working out, eating healthy, doing hair and makeup)

- Carrying of her owner’s children, even if she doesn’t wish to

- Allowing the use of her holes if her owner needs a urinal

- Does not leave the house without her owner

- Doesn’t speak unless spoken to or at all

- Keeps the house spotless and her owner fed

- Accepts regular punishments and maintenance spankings

- Wears what her owner’s wants her to wear, even if that is nothing

- Is completely free use

- Addresses owner as Sir or Master

- Teaches misogyny to her children

- Understands and is appreciative of her place beneath her husband

You were so happy when one of your girlfriends reached out. Very shyly, she admitted she wanted a relationship like yours. She wanted to be a submissive wife.

So you spent weeks helping deprograming. Helping overcome the belief she should be in control. Helping over come the idea she needed to be an equal. Further weeks were spent with her learning the skills she needed to keep a man. She even watched your husband take you roughly a number of times. So she could see how hard it made you orgasm. And how she was so turned on she couldn't stop touching herself during it.

Now you are at her wedding. Matron of Honor, watching as she shyly walked down the aisle toward a man who would give her what she needed. Who would protect her and take care of her.

you were full of righteous fury after a frustrating day at work. you'd spent the entire day dealing with unnecessary garage created by idiots who thought themselves your better. you were home now, but your anger wasn't fading as it should.

I took our conversation to the bedroom subtly, though it was more of you railing against the world and Me nodding. you were so engrossed in your agitation that you didn't even take notice as I pulled a few things from the "box" under the bed.

As you took a breath, ready to start another tirade, My hand shot up to clasp your neck. you slapped it away.

"Not the time." you said with authority that you simply did not have in our dynamic.

My hand grasped your neck again, but this time it was forcing you backwards abd your arms were too busy trying to catch yourself to try to slap it away. you hit the wall and rage flashed in your eyes as you tried to remove My hand, but My grip was firm and your arms were helpless to remove it. you squirmed and I slapped you, hard, in the face. you froze, stunned for a moment in indignation, but it was only going to get worse. The ball gag was forced into your mouth and pulled tight in one deft movement.

I pinned your arms to the wall as you screamed into the rubber, but your protests were muffled and felt belittling.

"Shut. Up." I ordered. I was calm but this was not a request. you stopped.

I grabbed your hair and dragged you to the bed. you clawed, raking marks in My skin that I ignored. They'd heal. you pounded, certain to leave bruises but likely hurting your fists more than My body. I tossed you to the bed and you rolled away, but I dragged you back by your ear.

"Don't fucking move." I hissed. you froze.

I removed your clothes and used you. Mercilessly I used you in whatever way I saw fit. I was not gentle. I pinched, punched, pulled, slapped, bent, and bit until My frustration with your attitude that you brought home was sated.

you were crying. Balling. But it wasn't because of Me. your frustration finally spilled over into My hopeless, emotional sub who needed to mourn the events of the day. you cried and I held you. you'd bottled everything up and I'd smashed the bottle against the wall when I pinned your arms to it. All that was left was the soft fizz after the violence of the explosion was spent.

"Good girl, My little rebel." I soothed. Let's go have dinner. you nodded, put on your robe, and followed quietly to the kitchen. you watched My heels with your head bowed and matched the rhythm of My steps.

Losing to boys creates conflict. Losing to Master creates peace.