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My boyfriend laughs at you
It makes you feel so weak and pitiful. I've got a date with a real man tonight, and I'm only going to let you touch me to help me get ready, because my body is exclusively for my boyfriend's enjoyment. For his pleasure alone.
When I bring him home, we're going to dress you in my dripping wet panties. It's only appropriate that you should be dressed that way while he is fucking me.
I never let you fuck me anymore, not with your pathetic useless excuse for manhood. That little peepee of yours turns me off, and you're lucky I even keep you around.
The more you think about it, the more excited that little weewee gets, and you just have to touch it.
You're hoping that this time I'll bring my boyfriend home, so you might get a chance to see that big cock again, see it fuck me and stretch my pussy, hear me scream with pleasure that you can't give me.
But you're my husband, and it's your job to make sure I get satisfied. You'll do whatever you have to do to keep me happy.
But you're my husband, and you love me. You want to stay my husband even though it means never having sex with me again. You'll do whatever you have to do to keep me happy.
And so you grew to love the humiliation and crave it.
You're just lucky I keep you around, and you know it. I'm so good to you. I could throw you away, toss you out on the street like a piece of trash if you were to annoy me.