This is the story of my journey to accepting myself as a submissive man.
Widowed at 60
At 60 years old, I was a widower. To many, I might have seemed old, but I carried my years with quiet confidence—until the day I found myself utterly alone. No children. No defined goals. Just… alone.
The first few months after my loss were consumed by grief and reorganizing the remnants of a life now solitary. Slowly, I began to look toward the horizon, though it was undefined. I still worked and explored paths such as travel, volunteer work, cultural pursuits, and friendships.
The Shift Toward Irrevocable Change
Everything shifted one day in a small store near my home.
While shopping, I turned abruptly in an aisle and nearly collided with a woman. She was tall, brunette, elegant, and carried a commanding air with a severe expression. The accidental bump wasn’t intentional, of course, but her piercing glare and haughty posture rooted me to the spot. Her words were low but scathing: “Pathetic loser.”
Though meant for me alone, those two words were like a bolt of lightning. Years of buried fantasies, suppressed desires, and solitary dreams came rushing back in vivid force. My world paused.
After hastily completing my shopping, I stumbled back to my apartment, dazed and disoriented, much like a boxer knocked flat by a sudden uppercut. Sitting on my couch with my head in my hands, her words replayed endlessly in my mind.
Awakening the Submissive Fantasies
In recent years, my submissive desires had faded. Life’s challenges and a nearly dormant sexual drive had dulled them to near extinction. But her words—those sharp, cutting words—reawakened something primal.
That night, I tried to push the thoughts aside, reminding myself of the reality: submissive men often dream of dominant women for years, rarely meeting them. Fantasies and reality are separated by a vast chasm.
Yet in bed, the visions persisted. My arousal was undeniable, and by 4 a.m., I gave in to a reluctant concession. I indulged in a vivid fantasy of kneeling before her, kissing her feet, and offering my chastity and submission. The release was swift and overwhelming. Exhausted, I finally slept.
When I woke, the doubts were gone. That primal obsession, long buried, was now fully awake and immovable.
Taking the Next Steps: Creating a Profile
Determined, I began to plot the steps needed. At 60, I knew the odds were slim of finding a dominant woman who would take interest. But I also knew honesty and preparation were essential.
Physically, I was fortunate: not overweight, not bald. I prepared by grooming and revisiting online spaces where such dynamics thrived.
The first platform I chose was Slave Selection. Living in NYC provided a slight advantage—there were more dominants here, though also more competition. I crafted an honest, thorough profile, detailing my limits and readiness to serve without embellishing or hiding my age.
Contacted by a Dominant
My profile received some attention but few messages. Most younger dominants seemed focused on financial domination. I shifted my attention to women over 55, crafting personalized messages based on their profiles.
Finally, at 8 p.m., I received a message.
“Widowed and childless, you seem humble and aware that at your age, you can only serve without expecting anything in return. That’s good. You might interest me, but you’ll need patience, determination, and total devotion to keep my attention. If you think you’re capable, send me your number.”
Her profile confirmed her to be 65, a statuesque woman with “some curves,” seeking perfect obedience. I immediately sent my number.
That night, she called.
“Are you the man from Slave Selection?”
“Yes, Madame. Thank you for calling.”
“Spare me the whining I usually hear. You’re old and unattractive, but you seem aware of your inferiority and motivated. That’s something. I’ll test you. If you persist and prove worthy, I might make you an offer. But it’ll take time—three months, minimum. Most don’t last even a fraction of that. Still interested?”
“Yes, Madame. Thank you.”
Her tone was commanding, and her conditions strict. For three months, I was to focus solely on earning her attention. No other searches. No fantasies. Only her directives.
I immediately deactivated my profile and awaited her instructions. Though none came that evening, I went to bed with anticipation—my desire burning steadily.
To be continued…
