This whole beating thing is starting to get Wanda down. It’s just so much work, and god forbid it doesn’t go just right, or he’ll mope around for days. Oh, the whip was the wrong kind of leather. Oh, she bruised him too much/not enough/in the wrong places. Oh, her heart’s not really in it, he can tell, he’s very sensitive to these things. For someone who claims to be totally devoted to her, he’s awfully demanding.

“Shut up,” she growls, and he purrs like a kitten. It drives her up the wall. “Stop enjoying this!” He practically quivers. “You disgusting sack of crap! You quivering blancmange!” He’s in ecstasy. You can’t even get mad at him!

She tries the silent treatment — ignoring him, dig? — and boy, does that not work. He just follows her around, always asking if she’s okay, does she need a pillow, a cup of coffee, cunnilingus? She tells him to shut up, and, so, yeah, he does, but he’s got this look the whole time like he’s being especially saintly. I’m doing this for you, his eyes say, because I’m so in luuuuuuurve with you. She could puke.

Eventually she sleeps with someone else, you know, just to rub his damn nose in it (and why shouldn’t she? he’s always telling her to do whatever she wants) and he snaps and beats her. Like, seriously. He almost breaks her arm!

So she calls the cops on him. She doesn’t have to take his bullshit.