While this post may be hard for some to read, her words are important and her story should be read:

If one has a quota for how much sex one should have, then one should (occasionally) examine if it's working.

That's what we did last weekend, when the kids were gone., My husband and I spent more time than usual talking about sex.

I'm grateful that despite how hard I hunted in the BDSM community, I wound up with someone outside that world.

Don't get me wrong - he likes kinky sex. He likes hitting someone who's okay with being hit. He likes being mean when he's given permission. I've yet to meet anyone within the BDSM community who's as good at reining it in as my husband - he's not driven by desires in the same way. The mean parts are small, subtle accents of his overall sexuality.

Hurting someone isn't the point of sex for him.

Then's there's my ex: my Owner. To him, I wasn't a real person, I was a 24/7 slave for two years.

We lived together for a year before and a year after the formal contract in a Dominant/Submissive relationship. He didn't know much about me - he actively shushed me because he didn't want to know. He never wanted to talk about his other life, either. He worked long hours and wanted a slave to take care of things for him. He didn't particularly enjoy having sex with me. We didn't have much sex as he couldn't orgasm from sex - he wasn't interested in fulfilling my needs.

Instead, he masturbated after tying me up and hurting me while I was fully-dressed. I was, more or less, live action porn.

My husband doesn't treat me like that. He's quite clear that I am more interesting to him than anyone else has ever been. He likes talking to me. He likes knowing what I'm thinking. He appreciates it when I tell him what is going on in my head. He likes having sex with me. He'd do it all day every day if we had time and no friction burns.

It's different. Dealing with the two of them is so different. Everything I learned for my Owner is irrelevant. I feel I've gone through life trying on personalities: Who am I allowed to be around this person? What do they want to know about me?

Mostly, very little.

I broke up with my Owner in August 2004 and moved out the first weekend in October. That weekend, I had my first date with Daddy J.

Daddy J liked to bring people home.

Between when I left my Owner in 2004 and my marriage to my husband in September of 2006, I slept with more than eighty people. Most were people Daddy J brought home and said, "She has an empty hole. You should fill it."

We didn't date long; I couldn't handle it. Being treated that way was worse than feeling undesirable by my Owner.

Daddy J made me feel so very worthless.

All he wanted was access to my vagina, my ass, and my mouth. He avoided knowing me by ensuring my mouth was never empty.

My husband, on the other hand, is so very nice. He liked that I'd sleep with other people, but never pushed, watched, or controlled it. Just so long as I wanted it.

I don't want it any more.

I feel used up and abandoned; the majority of people who've fucked me have been unkind - sex didn't form a bond.

Part of the reason I'll be thrilled when my husband quits his job is because he works with my former lover. One who wasn't just once; he was almost a one-night-stand until I ran into him a few years later. Suddenly, he was so impressed with my sense of boundaries that he wanted a thing on the side. I didn't invade his life. I was to show up for sex, be silent, then leave. He liked that arrangement.

I'm tired of people who want access to my genitals while duct-taping my mouth shut.

For four years, I lived with someone who thought it was great fun to put plastic bags over my head, wrapping my neck with duct tape. He liked watching me cry through the plastic. When I freaked out, he'd poke his fingers through the plastic over my mouth, kissing me so that I couldn't breathe. It was "hotter" that way.

He didn't want to know what I thought; felt.

Now I'm married to this guy who's angelic by comparison: he doesn't pimp me out. He doesn't degrade me. He wants to know me.

That means that I've got this quota; this idea, about how much sex we should have each month. My husband is a simple creature, I can easily gauge how much stress he's under. Sex has a trade value: it reduces his stress by a certain percentage. If I want him to keep functioning, I have to help him balance his stress. Compared to everyone else, he's dead easy.

However, that means I'm having sex because it's a stress-relief for him. Not because I want it. Post-kids sex is just weird and I'm not getting off like I used to. It's not that I can't, it's just different.

I'm not who I was - not at all.

I'm struggling to understand the change permitted in a partner. If he married me because he thought it was hot to be with someone promiscuous; we have problems.

I can't be that person forever.

Sex is something I pour my physical energy into that I don't get back. In fact, it makes it harder to live my life - I have too much to get done and nothing more to give.

This means that sex doesn't (usually) feel very sexy. Sex is for stress-relief and bonding: part of my job. He spends a lot of time gently touching me. I've never experienced anything like this - he's so nice to me.

I feel like I don't deserve it - I'm the stupid whore. Why is he wasting time being nice to me? I don't matter. That's what I've been taught.

So... things are muddy.

When you emerge a survivor of early childhood sexual assault (and ohman INCEST) - especially when you've been promiscuous as an adult - people tell you that maybe you should try celibacy, which is annoying. I can't "work on my issues" unless I stop having compulsive sex.

The day-to-day life I now lead bears absolutely no resemblance to anything I've ever lived before. It's hard to believe that anyone can change so much. And I'm not going to stop changing.

I don't think celibacy will be a part of my recovery; I care too much about relieving stress. I need to have my husband feel invested in me - he bonds through sex. And sex is much better when I tell him what I am thinking about.

My husband is different.

It's hard to parse out the differences between compulsive sexuality, my feelings of obligation, and desire to be loved.

My husband really likes me - when the kids are gone, he follows me around because he's so happy he can relax and adore me without anyone screaming. Six years. He still follows me around because he wants to listen to what I'm babbling about.

I feel completely overwhelmed - Why does he care? It feels so good. Part of it is the sex. He wants me to feel loved and wanted all the time, not just when we are having sex, and we have a lot of sex so he feels pretty required to be demonstrative all the time. He wants to make sure he doesn't make me feel used.

He brings me flowers.

Yes, I'm going to keep a quota so this man stays happy. I think that taking sex away from him would be like kicking a puppy. It makes him so very happy. He's not demanding. He phrases it as, "As always I would be entirely interested in sex. It is totally ok if you would like to just snuggle. I just wanted you to know." When I say no, he still rubs my back. He still talks to me. He still strokes my hair and soothes me to sleep. There is no punishment. No revoking of love. No lessening of attention. He still likes me.

The only time my husband yells at me is when we are on opposite sides of the house and we can't stop talking to each other. We like talking and we like getting up and doing stuff. So, we just raise our voices to carry on the conversation. No big deal.

I feel so loved in this house. It is very hard that feeling loved is so alienating. I wish it wasn't.

I explained to my husband that the "quota" is my reminder to hit the "stress relief button" a certain number of times every month. I watch his life; I see his stress level rising and falling and I adjust my quota accordingly.

If I hit the stress relief button enough times, he's happy, calm, and less stressed. If I don't, he's tired and rundown and sadder. He doesn't get angry. He moves slower. Just add sex. It's like a miracle drug. I'm going to keep doing that.

It is a pragmatic choice; I don't feel exploited. I'm unusually well-suited to benefit from having a partner who has this much of a connection between sex and well-being. We have vanilla missionary sex - he's gentle, nice; it's not a big deal. Honestly, it's sweet. It doesn't rock my world, but it makes me feel good about myself.

I feel I've changed so much during our marriage that I have to be considerate of his needs. Once upon a time, we had a set-up where I could revoke sex and he was allowed to fuck other people if needed. He can't do that any more.

Marriage has to be good for both parties; I don't feel exploited by him. If anything, I'm overwhelmed by shame because he married down. I don't feel competent enough, smart enough, or worthwhile enough for him. BUT I CAN HAVE SEX.

It would be good if I felt I didn't owe anyone access to my body, but I don't anticipate feeling that way. I got married; I'm no longer a closed system. I am part of a unit. I am not being harmed and I like being part of this unit. This is the most positive experience of my life. I'm not going to punish him over a philosophical difference - it wouldn't make my life better.

He's respectful - when I say, "not tonight" he backs off. If I tell him that his needs aren't important and I'm not going to meet them, he'll put his head down and accept that. I married him because I wanted to be part of a family - we'd help each other become bigger and better. I want the mutual exchange of support. It allows me to do things I simply can't do alone. I want to be part of a unit.

Marriage means consideration. A sex quota isn't romantic, but it reminds me that he has needs; he matters. Meeting his needs means he'll keep meeting mine.

And that's enough for me.