So it might be clear that things are getting back on track. We are finding a really good balance where we don’t really need to talk about it – we can just tell, or more specifically he can just tell that if it’s been a 13 hour work day and I am going to bed early, it’s probably not for sex. That I’m not in the headspace, and I don’t have the spare mental power to get there.

And that’s okay. That’s alright. Because the nights that we do get there, it’s not me topping from the bottom. It’s him reaching for my cunt, finding it’s wet already, and me obeying without question for the rest of the night. Any time we fuck, it’s totally within the boundaries of absolute submission. Any time he touches me, if there’s no hesitance, then we are right into the dance, and his touch turns rough within a second.

When work gets in the way, our sex life takes a back seat. At all other times, there’s no debate about what my role is.