I don’t know why we’re having this conversation again. You still don’t seem to understand the rules, and honestly, it’s pathetic and exhausting having to keep reminding you of your place in this marriage. You’re here to serve me, simple as that. You handle the house and keep everything spotless so I don’t chip a nail and have more time to get ready for my dates with real men who have big dicks, hot bodies, and charming, fun personalities. All things you do not have. That tiny little dick in your pants is barely more than a clit, and it will never be inside my pussy. Your job is to buy me things and make sure I look perfect for the dates I go on, and for the men I fuck. Maybe I’ll even bring them home so you can pretend to know what my perfect pussy feels like. I just shaved my pussy so it’s smooth and clean, so there is one thing you can do: clean my pubic hairs out of the bathtub while I go on my date.