Let us imagine a dystopian world where all women have electrodes implanted in their brains and all men are given a control box with a button that, when pressed, gives the woman a burst of indescribable pleasure. In fact, almost all women quickly become totally addicted to the pleasure chemicals and we know she is addicted because she thinks of almost nothing else. She craves it. Aches for it all the time. She thinks about the moment when you press that button, and just about the only time she doesn’t think about you pressing that button is when you just pressed it a few minutes before.

Bob and Jill Smith are husband and wife in that world. Let us spy in on a typical night in the Smith home.

Jill (Hugging her husband warmly after making dinner, rubbing his feet, handing over her paycheck, and giving her husband a new I-Phone just “because I love you”): “I was thinking you could press the button later darling.”

Bob (Pulling back surprised): “What! You were just being nice because you wanted me to press the button.”

Jill: “No darling, I love you so much. It is just so good. Oh come on, it doesn’t cost you anything to press the button. Will you do it for me tonight, dear. It will not even take 10 minutes. Please.”

Bob: (frowning and pulling back more): “I don’t think so. It is very unattractive when you act like a little girl and whine like that.”

Jill: (sobbing, crying hysterically) “I’m sorry, just tell me what you want me to do. I will do whatever you tell me to do. Anything you want. Just tell me. Please, please, please just tell me what I can do to make you happy.”

Bob: “Well you could suck my dick. That might make me press the button.”

Jill (eagerly complies, slurping his essence like a giant fleshy straw, then wiping her chin smiles fetchingly): “I did what you said. Did I make you happy? Oh baby, will you press the button.

Bob fondles the box and lightly rubs his hand over the button several times as Jill goes into near convulsions. She is in physical pain, muscles tense, frantic, her entire body trembling as Bob toys with the button. Then smirking slightly he makes eye contact with his wife.

Bob: “No, I am just not feeling it.

Jill (crying openly) “But why, what is the problem? I did everything you said you wanted me to do.” Between sobs she managed to get out: “Is there anything else I can do, anything you want me to do, just tell me.”

Bob: “You are starting to irritate me now. Is the only thing you care about me because of that damn button?”

Jill: “No of course not darling. I love you. You are my one true love. It is just so easy for you to do. It’s not so bad. It will only take a couple of minutes, you can be really quick and just get it over with. Please, we are married. You promised in our wedding vows that you would obey and press the button whenever I wanted. Can’t you do it, pretty please. It would mean so much to me. I just had a hard day, and I was…

Bob: “Your getting pushy and I don’t like it. You can go sleep on the couch now.”

Jill (gives Bob a shattered, tear filled look but realizes it will only cause her trouble to complain or beg any further): “I’m so sorry, I will be good. I will be a better wife tomorrow. Good night darling. I am sorry I disappointed you.”

She turns to leave slowly, sadly.

Bob (calling her gruffly back and handing her the Control Button): “You forgot the button and remember, only I get to press it. That would be cheating if you pressed it and I would divorce you if you did something terrible like that. I would take the house, both cars, the kids, and get you kicked out of our church. Then I would move in a younger, prettier girl while you still paid my rent and fuck the hell out of her on this bed you bought us.”

Jill: “Yes dear. I will try harder tomorrow. I will look at the button until I go to sleep and think about how I can work to please you better.”

Bob: “Good night.”