Who's In Control

Who's in control, I ask?
The man, they say, the master of the house
My husband is my king
A lion, feared by all
When he roars, the whole city quake

But I made his weakness my strength
Cos I know how to scheme my way
With crocodile tears, a remote control
I hold the power in my hands,
Pushing buttons at my will
Making him bow to my desires.

He dare not discern my maneuvers
But I make him wash my feet,
With the very last drop of his sweat
And with his tongue
 He licks the shit in my anus clean

My husband,  strong and powerful
But my toy, my slave
 He toils day and night,
Working tooth and nail,
To provide for me, his queen

So who's in control, I wonder?
The woman, they say, the weaker sex,
Yet so subtle and powerful
My wife, the mistress of the house,
I must bow to her whims
So she doesn't starve me of food

She holds the power to punish at bedtime
She can order me to make the bed
kneel down, hands up and close my eyes
And I'll obey, willingly submit
Cos her love is my sustenance.

So who's in control, you may then ask?
In this quest for power and love,
The man, you may think is in control
But indeed, it is the woman