The nicest humiliation ever.

I’ve been wrestling with reporting on this scene. It’s…weird. It’s personal. And it shows just how much insight my wife has into my psyche, and how she can use that to turn me into whatever she wants. It’s not all humiliation and domination — this scene, she did something wonderful for me.

But it is weird and tied into my insecurities and really personal. It’s embarrassing to admit. So, if you keep reading on after the link, you’ve been warned.

My wife is just a wonderful woman, and part of it is because she has this insight into what I want - what I need - that I don’t think I’d get from another domme. We’ve been together 12 years or so. She knows me like she knows herself — maybe better, because she has hangups and insecurities and the like which she doesn’t see because she’s too close. Whereas with me — she knows me. Absolutely. She uses it during scenes to strip away everything, to get right into my head, and my heart, and my soul.

I’ve had an insecurity about the size of my penis since I lost my virginity at fifteen. My girlfriend at the time and I were playing around, and I remember she took off my pants, and looked down. I asked her what she thought — she was the first lover to see my penis, ever — and she said, “I guess it’s alright.”

“I guess it’s alright” did not fill me with a feeling that my manhood was of a decent size, no matter how much she liked it. No matter how big it was according to her. And the thing is, no matter how many other girls I dated, no matter how often they sang my praises or talked about how great I was, my first girlfriend’s appraisal has always been the one that I remember. It’s her voice I heard. I had a girlfriend who was aware of my insecurity measure me in college, telling me, “Hey, this is above average. You’re fantastic.” Doesn’t matter — “I guess it’s alright” was always there, worrying away at my self-esteem. I’m the biggest guy my wife’s ever been with according to her — doesn’t matter. I know, in my head, I’m not hurting in that department. Doesn’t matter. Those words from seventeen years ago pretty much defined my relationship with my penis. Every one who compliments me is lying, or being nice. Because…”it’s alright.”

This is why I don’t understand small penis humiliation — I’ve got enough of my own issues without my lady banging away at that chink in my armor.

Over the holidays, my wife and I were laying together after one of the scenes. We were recovering from our experiment in switching, getting to know each other as Mistress and slave again. She was rummaging through our toychest, playing with toys, when she stumbled onto one of the new dildos. When we first bought it, she refused to use the thing, swearing that one of us would be hurt because it was larger than the cock we use in the strap-on. So now, she played with it, joking to see if I was ready to take the thing up my ass, when she stopped and grabbed me…grabbed my manhood.

“Oh, wow. This dildo is exactly the size and girth of your dick.”

“No, you said that it was too big.”

“I’ve been telling you you’re big, too. For years, but you never believe me.” She gestured with the jelly cock at me. “This is you, baby.”

She started comparing them side by side, commenting on how close they were together. Almost identical, except for my curve. She loves just watching my dick, my balls, seeing how it all reacts to her touch. Now, she rubs her fake cock around mine, cooing. “I’ve been telling you you’re big, and look, now you can see it,” she says. And then she looked up at me, and smiled. “Lay back, bitch.”

And then she lubed me up, lubed up the cock, and started penetrating me. The entire time, she talked about it. “You’re huge. You’ve never had anything to be ashamed of in this department. Now I’m going to show you what you do to me. Remember all those times I told you how much you made me sore? Now you get to experience your dick. I’m fucking you with your dick.”

She kept talking, her voice urging me on, stroking me and fucking me with the fake cock at the same time, talking about how it’s my dick. How big it was. How now I knew. “Don’t let me ever hear that you’re small. Do you feel small? How does this feel?”

I think at some point she made me start apologizing for saying I was small. “I don’t want to hear that out of your mouth. I wouldn’t fuck you if you were small. I need a man. I don’t need your issues anymore.” The pain and the pleasure were mingling, the stroking of my manhood merging with the fact that this thing she was banging me with was tearing me up and hitting me in the p-spot simultaneously. I remember my eyes getting that “rolled back into the head” effect every time she thrust, until she finally figured I got the message and I begged her to finish me with our other toy. Which she did.

Since then, my anxiety is gone. I look down and I don’t hear my first lover’s voice. I think about my wife and her toy and getting nailed with “my” cock. I don’t care how weird this story sounds — and it sounds weird to me, frankly — but it’s like a load has been taken off my shoulders, seventeen years of anxiety washed away in one afternoon. It’s just so cheesy to talk about, but it was one of the most personal scenes we’d ever had, the way she used pain to build me up, to undo the damage somebody had done all those years ago.

I don’t know what to say about it. Don’t know how to describe it. It’s so strange and it’s one of the few things I felt like not writing about here. But I’m glad I am. Because she knows me, and she used that knowledge to strip away my anxiety and fear and rebuild me into somebody she felt was worthy of her.