Men Should Be Seen, Not Heard (F/M)

[AlexUSA3]

Men Should Be Seen, Not Heard
Saturday, January 15, 2022

I smirk to myself while greeting my older sister with a hug and a kiss while we laugh and talk to one another as we walk into church and then fall utterly silent. We quietly put money in the box and each grab two candles before approaching the sandbox and lighting them. We then head into the main part of the church and approach the icon and venerate it with two bows, a kiss, and one more bow before heading to our seats. I patiently wait, but soon it is my turn to approach so my confession can be heard, as I so faithfully do once a month out of a genuine desire to unload all my distresses before Christ so that I can have a clean conscience and a sense of renewal.

I sit down and quietly adjust the solid brown kerchief that rests upon my head and enjoy the one person I truly share in this building right now: my sister. Here at church, Zoe and I are both one and two. We're the Fredericks sisters, but we are also the wives of our respective husbands in an unbreakable union of matrimony that is but an earthly institution to prepare us for something that is greater and heavenly, Yes, Mrs. Zoe Goethals and Mrs. Joy Sjaastad are sisters who are also a respected pair of young women in their community, as a unit and for their unique talents. Zoe is wearing a white kerchief to match the seasonal liturgical color because… why not?

We are Orthodox Christians, but we were raised in mainline nondenominational Protestantism. I was floored by what we encountered when we first visited our Orthodox friend's church across town, and Zoe was so charmed by it all that soon she was dating that friend's cousin. That never panned out because of Zoe’s strong headedness and desire to continue playing TUGs whilst that young man maintained no animosity and married another before becoming a priest in that body.

Alas, I am not the holy figure I might sound based on my description of me and Zoe because we are both flawed human beings trying their best to achieve happiness and holiness in our lives, but I at least have the assurance that we are both trying our best. I yell at people; I get dryly sarcastic when I’m annoyed; I make cruel accusations; and I do a whole host of other deeds that undo such things as devoutly venerating an icon or lovingly cooking and baking for Mike or our siblings or our friends. Mike, my husband, patiently loves me in my faults like no one but Zoe can.

“Gangsta Girl, how was your church service?” my sister-in-law Erin asks me with a smile.
“Oh, just fine,” I smile back, “It was beautiful and inspiring as always. Thanks for asking.”
“We bonded, too,” Zoe sits down next to me and smiles widely, “So, how about Phase 10?”
“Gmmmmmmmmm,” an urchin interrupts us with its own unintelligible, pathetic protests.
“Men should be seen, not heard,” I dryly comment and walk over to a drawer to get the cards.
“You should trademark that expression,” Erin quips with a grin and adjusts her own kerchief.
“I have seen and heard far too many,” I quietly respond, “And am liberated from my past.”
“Deal me in,” another sister-in-law, Bridget, adds to the party, “If you please.”

Erin is Mike’s big sister, 6 years my senior. She and I have quietly impacted each other in such profound ways since we met and have become more friends than sisters-in-law. Just look at her kerchief to see the impact we've had on each other because she got that from me, despite all my horrific mistakes when I was younger. Yes, for Erin and I, the bandanas we wear aren't just the CGC symbol, even if they're fashionable and pretty. The CGC connection is merely the reason I chose the bandana for my method of headcovering as my reminder to pray without ceasing. It's a long story, but it's one I ought to tell you. I know just where to start to get it all out quickly.

Zoe is two years my senior. When she went to college, I fell apart and became the school tramp, to my sister’s horror. We were Cool Girls, and it seemed the antithesis of what we vowed when we joined the Club. She tried to help when I followed her to Minnesota Tech and continued that lifestyle. Finally, after an intervention with her and other girls from both the CGC and the TUG sorority she founded, I got my life back only to fall into drinking booze after Zoe graduated and moved away. I was a mess, and Zoe lovingly called me daily to help me out even while living in another state that was 1000 miles away. Cool Girls like bandanas, but first I started wearing one everyday instead of just some or most days. Then I began dressing modestly until I fully felt the spirit of modesty and prayer living in my heart through my faith in Christ.

The Erin connection is another story. I went to college to become an engineer, and I hated that so much that I became the “C’s make degrees” girl just because I couldn't sink my brain into it while I felt compelled to finish because I didn't have big money scholarships like my friends. At college, I met Bridget, and she was a meteorologist seeking to be a TV weathergirl. Well, after a few conversations with her, when she landed a TV job here in her home of Madison, I decided to follow her here and use my engineering skills while getting a master's in meteorology at the local University of Wisconsin and became a professional meteorology instrument engineer. Yeah, I’m the person—skirt, kerchief, and all—who makes sure the weather station works and maintains all the other gadgets we use both for research and information. What a life! Still, by moving here, I met Erin. Zoe moved to Madison to be a third roommate with me and Bridget, and shortly after I moved here Erin moved back. Erin is her own story of redemption though!

“Mmmmmmm!” that same urchin speaks up again, protesting being ignored.
“I told you already! Men should be seen,” I remain calm, “not heard. Got it, sweetie?”

Erin and Bridget come from a family that fell apart. It ended in divorce because their mother had an alcohol problem. After Mom died, Erin started drinking too. She fought it for years, deciding to move home to fight it off while she was on a good streak of sobriety. We instantly connected in many ways, and she adopted head covering and modesty as a result of my example. Together, we use bandanas and skirts to combat the demons that whisper in our ears. We even work in the same lab where I got my degree, although Erin is a professional environmental scientist coder. I even extended my influence to Zoe, who adopts my style for her church wear although she does not dress like this daily as though it were our connection, on spiritual and personal levels.

Bridget was my roommate in college and my roommate after college, and now she's one of three beloved sisters-in-law. She doesn't wear bandanas except when she's in a particularly TUGgish mood. She fits in perfectly at this table of kerchief girls even without one. She has a spirit that’s admirable. She, like all of us, is flawed. All of us are flawed, and we constantly point fingers at one other to remind each other of the good things that we possess and represent. That's the good kind of finger pointing, and we often have to fight to not have our egos inflate from the words.

“Mmmmmmm,” that person will not stop interrupting us.
“Michael,” I take a deep breath and meticulously use my fingers to iron a wrinkle out of my skirt while thinking about my words, “I told you to be quiet. Now,…… please, be quiet…… or else.”

I forgot to mention that Michael is a little tied up, didn't I? Yeah, that's what I meant back when I said Zoe and I were giggling. He looks goofy with my black ball in his mouth and the red straps pulled around his head and secured. He's the only guy I’ll dominate, and it's absolutely hilarious when I suddenly start barking out orders for him to submit to me or else. It's really funny how I play such intense, and sometimes dirty, games with friends from the sorority and the CGC, but I only play with Micheael in the same style I played as a high schooler or as he played as a child.

Bridget’s married, to be fair to her, and she robbed the cradle in adorable fashion to end up with a handsome young man in her life. Regardless, he’s only interested in playing TUGs as a captor to a female, and even then he only gets involved if Bridget’s also involved because that is just one example of how much he adores his bride. They are the best, and Bridget’s friendships here in Madison pretty much overlap with mine these… at least as far as the TUG circles go! We’re a lot happier here than we were at Minnesota Tech as undergrads, and life has consistently gotten better and better for both of us since we made the decision to move out here because I found my happiness and myself here, from personal, spiritual, and emotional perspectives.

The two sisters are absolutely tickled by the sight of their brother. Bridget is younger than Mike, and Mike is even older than Zoe just to give you some extra perspective. Three kerchief wearing girls and one without any bandana at all are sitting around playing Phase 10 while gloating over the captivity of the only male on the premises because that’s the way life goes sometimes. I only made the snap decision to capture Mike a couple hours before and bossed him into submission in a sharply announced, “Mikey, sit down and shut up. NOW.” Next thing he knew, he was bound and gagged with Erin and Bridget squeezing his cheeks while I stepped out the door and headed to church. Then Zoe got in on the act, and… here we are! Normally this kind of scenario results in at least Erin and at least one other girl getting bound and gagged alongside Mike. Not tonight.

Oh, let’s add to the humor just to add some richness to the scene because I’m boring you with an enormous amount of prosaic walls of text anyway. The Sjaastad’s were raised Lutheran; Zoe and I are Orthodox. Bridget and Zoe married Roman Catholics; I married Michael. I cannot ever get enough of hearing Erin and Bridget talking in fluent Swedish to each other, and they use it when they wish to tease people by talking right in front of them. They cannot hide their conversations from Mike, but it pulls the wool over my and Zoe’s eyes quite nicely. Here, speaking in Swedish is accompanied by pointing fingers at Michael and giggling at my husband’s captivity.

“GMMM MMMM MMMMMMM!” Michael resumes his protests, as if that’ll help him.
“Mike,” I sigh and calmly put my arms down and adjust my kerchief to be just so, “I love you so much, but you’re being annoying,” I sternly remind him, “Men should be seen, not heard.”
“GUH UH UHHHHHH!” he repeats this with a stern, dominant nod of his head.
“Oh, Mikey, you are so adorable,” Erin leans over and squeezes his cheek.
“Instead of a brother-in-law, I got a guy who can professionally drive a snowplow by day yet is plowed by night,” Zoe quips with a gleam in her eye that shows that is happy for Mike and me.
“Instead of a sister-in-law, we got a freaking professional dominatrix and headmistress,” Bridget retorts, “I’d say you made out better in this situation, Mrs. Goethals.”

OK, let’s talk Michael Sjaastad, the gorgeous hunk of man wearing blue jeans and a Green Bay Packers t-shirt. For once, the Packers are the losers instead of my beloved Minnesota Vikings. I admit that the Sjaastad and Fredericks clans go scorched earth twice every NFL season, which is a necessity because Bridget, Mike, and I are crazy about all three. Erin and Zoe get their rivalry from the baseball diamond, because Zoe is crazy about the Minnesota Twins while Erin loves the Milwaukee Brewers. I am really doing a fantastic job of getting totally and completely off topic like this, and I am still failing to go into details about Michael’s bondage. Here goes!

It’s a simple bondage, really! I tied his ankles to the legs of the chair and tied his thighs together. I think the problem for him is that he’s 5’10”, so his arms come down just far enough on a short chair like this one so that I tied his wrists to the legs of the chair and his middle forearms to the side of the chair’s back. I also tied his shoulders to the side of the chair’s back, and I have one secure harness worked to pin his torso to the chair’s back as well, which is quite the sinister yet effective blend when you really think about it. Harnesses don’t look as good on guys, but when you use proper technique it’s just as good at holding guys captive even if it doesn’t accentuate a specific part of their body like it does on a girl. The blue jeans and snow boots (because he did indeed come home from doing volunteer snowplowing) somehow really sell the scene for me.

“GMM MMMMMMMM!” Mike drools in such adorable fashion when he tries to talk.
“Michael,” I again stop the game to hand-iron a wrinkle out of my shirt, “What did I tell you?”
“GRRRRRR!” he growls and shakes his head in the most playful anger you’ve ever seen.
“Honey, I’ll take that gag out of your mouth if you promise to be quiet. Deal?”
“Mmm hmm,” he blushes and looks down and away from me, enjoying the moment.
“Men should be seen, not heard,” I say and undo the straps, “Don’t speak unless you’re asked.”

Mike knows better than to mess with me, let alone act up when two of his three sisters are here (poor man, always surrounded by bandana-wearing TUG-sters) as well as Zoe when she’s also in a kerchief mood. The man is completely doomed, and he has to happily sit there and take it until one of us decides to take pity on his pathetic and sad state and let him take that shower that I am sure he wanted to take as soon as he got home rather than take this detour to the chair. But there are only 2 or 3 days in any given 1 or 2 month period where I wish to dominate him so badly, so he caved rather than miss the opportunity. I love adjective and adverb clauses!

“So, ladies, how were your days?” I ask as if Mike weren’t present, “Just us Cool Girls here.”
“Oh, like you don’t know?” Zoe asks me in a mischievous tone, “Did you mention pathological sarcasm when you were confessing to the priest?” her eyes, however, say, “I love you, Joy!”
“My day was good. My husband is going stir crazy because of winter killing baseball season for him, as if he doesn’t have plenty on his plate,” Bridget laughs about her home life, “He’s cute.”
“Yes, just us four Cool Girls, though three of us are COOOOOOOOLLLLLL,” Erin teases Bridget, “But, hey, I can’t change my sister for anything and have no desire to do so, either.”
“Yeah, Bridge,” I look at her, “What’s the matter? Not in a coooooooollllll mood?”
“I’m sorry,” Bridget puts down her last card, “I didn’t hear you,” she leans back and crosses her legs with her tongue pushing her cheek out, “I was too busy winning and hear nothing because I am a winner who married a winner,” she snarkily speaks of her rowing accomplishments.

Erin simply shakes her head; Zoe giggles, knowing full well how much of a treat Bridget can be during games; I roll my eyes with surgically precise passive aggression; Mike shoots daggers at all four of us; Bridget bursts into energetic laughter. She knows our pact stated no TUGs for us four so that we could enjoy Mike’s embarrassing position. I’m the real winner, though, being a friend to Bridget first of everyone at Minnesota Tech. When Bridget arrived at school, she was scared and reclusive, so private and disconnected from me and our roommate (in addition to all my other friends) that we dubbed her “The Bridget Wall.” I was the one who first found a point of entry into Bridget’s heart, and here I am over 7 years later married to her brother.

“Good one, Bridget!” Michael fans the flames of sisterly discord by taking sides now.
“Watch it, Mikey!” Erin rebukes her younger brother, playing the big sister card to perfection.
“I thought you knew better than to talk,” I flash the black ball gag once again, “Must I?”
“Hey!” Bridget leans over and wraps her arms around Mike’s neck, “Don’t pick on Michael! He is my big brother, and I love him!” as if she wasn’t part of the conspiracy until 17 seconds ago.
“Thank you, Bridget,” he smiles, but she just as cutely hand gags him, “GMMMMPHH!”
“I’m defending your compliment,” Bridget oozes affection, “Not permitting disobedience.”
“Men… should… be… seen… not… heard,” Zoe slowly says the words like a self-help mantra.

“Men… should… be… seen… not… heard,” Erin repeats it, channeling big sister energy.
“Men should be seen, not heard?” Bridget thinks about it, pretending to be confused by this.
“Men should be seen, not heard,” I repeat with headmistress clarity, running the house now.
“Men should be seen, not heard,” Bridget responds, with an understanding nod.
“Men should be seen, not heard!” Erin emphasizes the words with great confidence.
“Men should be seen, not heard!” I regurgitate the words as a command of Cool Girl power.
“Men should be seen, not heard!” Bridget turns into a chant, “Men should be seen, not heard!”
“Men should be seen, not heard!” Erin and Zoe repeat the chant in unison.
“Men should be seen, not heard!” We’re all together in this movement against Mike now.
“Men should be seen, not heard! Men should be seen, not heard! Men should be seen, not heard! Men should be seen, not heard! Men should be seen, not heard!”

It is going to be a looonnnnnggggg night for Michael Sjaastad. Really long.

Men should be seen, not heard! Men should be seen, not heard! Men should be seen, not heard!
Men should be seen, not heard! Men should be seen, not heard! Men should be seen, not heard!
Men should be seen, not heard! Men should be seen, not heard! Men should be seen, not heard!
Men should be seen, not heard! Men should be seen, not heard! Men should be seen, not heard!
Men should be seen, not heard! Men should be seen, not heard! Men should be seen, not heard!

I decide it’s time to give my beloved a break. He has been tortured by me, his sisters Bridget and Erin, and my sister Zoe enough for one night. Who knows when the next time will be, probably in spring or summer, that it’ll work out like this? In between now and then, his sisters and I will all enjoy the routine romps along with our local friends, and we’ll be happy and love each other and just all around enjoy the atmosphere, because nothing brings happiness like Cool Girls being in bondage at each other’s hands.

When Mike is standing again, I get on my tiptoes so my lips can kiss his lips and lead him by the hand into the bathroom where I long ago had prepared everything he needed for that shower, and he can now do so in peace and happiness after a lovely evening. Maybe I’m a headmistress but a soft one at that. I slowly stride out of the bathroom and quietly come up behind Zoe and clamp a hand over her mouth to tightly gag her. She may be older and taller, but I’m stronger.

“That hilarious chant was all your fault, and now you must pay for it,” I playfully hiss in her ear.

THE END

[jone123]

I truly loved this story thank you for sharing and looking forward for more like this.

[AlexUSA3]

I truly loved this story thank you for sharing and looking forward for more like this.

I tried to go outside the box on this one!

[tiedinbluetights]

I missed this one when it first came out! Nice! (given F/M is my favorite dynamic). Thanks for sharing this lovely story.