The third week was exhausting. I couldn’t get used to the cold shower. My “pussy” hurt with the plug in, and the weight I had to put on every night tortured me while my poor cock groaned, unable to get hard. All those hours on my knees left me dazed.
Exhausting Third Week
During the week, I had only received one message, ordering me to put on the weight when I got home in the evening and to take it off before going to work.
On Friday evening, I received a succinct message.
“You are progressing, even if you don’t realize it. This weekend, three enemas on Saturday morning, three more on Sunday morning. 30 minutes instead of 20 under cold water. I like watching you pee on all fours. Don’t forget to swing your pathetic balls when you’re on your knees. Be careful not to let the hair grow back. I think a new shave would be welcome.
On Saturday and Sunday afternoon, from 2 PM to at least 5 PM, you will walk along Avenue Général Leclerc to Porte d’Orléans, just wearing pants, a sweater, and shoes. Keep the weight and plug, of course. Do as many back-and-forths as necessary. Hands behind your back, head down. Remember what you are.”
Reading this made me dizzy. The cold was already gripping me, between the showers and the enemas. So, I walked for over three hours, my balls swinging, with the horrible feeling that everyone could see the weight against my thigh through my pants. Needless to say, with my head down, I was as red as a lobster and didn’t want to see anything.
No other messages for the weekend. The third week ended with that voice still urging me to stop this crazy madness.
I held on. Again.
Self-Training Guided by Simple Messages submissive
The following week, I received no messages. My despair was palpable, and doubt began to creep in.
All those hours spent on my knees, hands on my head, emptying my mind, keeping only the sensations of the use made of me. Open pussy, cock restrained, balls crushed, knees in pain. I vaguely felt that I was in my place, but I was missing that anointment, that blessing from a known female face, a supreme voice for complete acceptance.
I ended the first month like this, on Friday evening, going over in my head those hours of cold showers, meals from a bowl, chastity, going to the bathroom on all fours, and all that diffuse pain. I was almost in self-training, guided by simple messages.
In the end, did the “why” have meaning? Deep down, this was who I was. Did I need confirmation? I was just looking for the guiding hand, and I had found it.
After a Month of Pain and Doubt, Finally, the Meeting!
Suddenly, the sound of a message arriving on my phone pulled me from my thoughts where the evidence of my condition seemed undeniable.
“I’ve made you do in a month what others sometimes take six months to accept. This isn’t praise, just an observation. I don’t praise pathetic creatures like you. Some are more docile and malleable; they are more aware of their insignificance, their baseness. That’s your case. Given your age and physique, it’s fortunate. Saturday morning, usual weekend routine, do the enemas well. I’ll be at the meeting café at 10 AM. Come in a sweater, pants, and shoes! Keep the weight and plug, obviously! Put on your collar so I can recognize you well! And don’t forget what you are when you come to me.”
I remained motionless, phone in hand. Perfect acceptance of the words used: pathetic, baseness, insignificance. After a month of effort, I would finally meet this dominant woman who had guided me and drawn out my vilest instincts. She had erased a large part of my male ego and deprived me of all sexual pleasure with just written words.
The little voice inside me that urged me to give up was silenced, defeated.
I went to bed feeling a relief unlike anything I had known in an eternity. This meeting gave meaning to this month of constant struggle against giving up, pain, cold, doubts. An intense peace invaded my body as I closed my eyes. I slept a deep, peaceful sleep. Even my cock didn’t wake me, happy to finally meet its Mistress, its jailer.
Preparations Before the First Meeting The next morning, I woke up happy. The morning session on my knees allowed me to review my upcoming attitude. So, I should keep my eyes down, even if I longed to see and gaze upon her. I should remain humble and fully accept this new condition of sub-male. Moreover, I had no room for error because I wouldn’t recover from it!
I followed the orders to the letter: enemas, cold shower, frugal meal, sweater, pants over the cage, weight and plug, collar, shoes. My steps led me to Her. I felt no shame in wearing the collar, almost pride and assertion!
I wanted to shout to the whole world, “Look! I’m submissive! I’m myself, finally!”
After just 10 minutes of walking, a walk towards my destiny, I came in sight of the café. My watch showed 9:58 AM. I slowed down, then stopped. I waited… A minute can sometimes feel very long.
I resumed walking, slowly. There were few people on the terrace. I couldn’t see inside. My throat began to tighten. I was both eager and anxious. My cock shrank in its cage.
I finally received a message: “The collar suits you. Last table on the terrace, at the end!”
I lifted my head and saw her. I approached slowly, hands behind my back, head down but eyes raised to Her.
My Application, Deemed Acceptable by this Dominatrix
Imposing, about 5’9″, broad-shouldered, full-chested, not much of a belly, short white hair, she wore her 65 years well. She was dressed in a navy skirt, a white blouse with a strict jacket. Straight, with a steely blue gaze fixed on me, I stopped in front of the table, standing.
“Good morning, Madam, thank you for deigning…”
“Enough, I didn’t ask for a speech. Turn around!” No shouting, a calm, firm, and decisive voice but no anger. I turned slowly.
“Sit down!” I sat, head still bowed, hands on my knees.
“The first laws of a submissive are simple to understand but hard to accept. Your time is no longer yours. Your suffering is irrelevant. Your only pleasure, the sole one, is to satisfy your Mistress. This is why you’ve lived this month as you have, to start teaching you these laws. To see if you accept, assimilate, understand these basic laws.” She took a sip of coffee, graceful in her movement, and set her cup down. Her silence lasted a few seconds; I kept my eyes fixed on her hands, in silence.
“Having passed this stage with consistency, determination, and seriousness, I consider your application acceptable. Look at me!” I raised my eyes and met her gaze. Cold steel, devoid of any emotion. No contempt, but no empathy either.
“I can make an educated submissive out of you. But this implies your perfect acceptance, knowingly. Beyond the basic laws I’ve just stated, which are now the essence of your life, you must be ready to give up everything from your past and current life. Your entire being, your body, every minute of your life, every thought will belong to your Mistress and be dedicated to Her. Understand these words, their meaning.”
Explanation from Madam about the different categories of submissives submissive male
She paused again, still fixing me with her imposing, hard but clear gaze.
I swallowed, I had a thousand questions but didn’t dare speak.
“Moreover, you must understand that there are different categories of submissives. Six, to be exact, from A to F. The first is the handsome man, good-looking face, good education, perfect body, sizable penis, between 20 and 35 years old. The second is similar but with one of these elements slightly below par. Then you go down in grade. The first can accompany you to the theater, to dinner, give you pleasure with his cock. The lower you go in grade, the less the submissive is used as a man. You are clearly in the second-to-last category. Advanced age, small penis, gaunt body, unattractive face. The last category consists of old pigs, fat, sweaty, micro-penis, often bald. Unfortunately, they are numerous. I don’t deal with them and don’t have any. I rarely take the second-to-last category because I like beauty.
But there is some demand, and I want to test a bit; it will relieve me of certain tasks. This category is E. What you need to know for this case is that there’s no use of the penis for pleasure at least. You are below every other submissive, except for the pigs, below all animals, especially pets, and even some objects. You are akin to a thing, which explains why your pleasure, desires, refusals, or pain are meaningless concepts. The use made of this is very variable. House chores, maid, ass-licker, toilet, punching bag, cum dump, piece of furniture, living room lamp, doormat… Dominatrices often have an overactive imagination. Classified in the E category of submissives She took another sip of coffee as the waiter approached for my order. I didn’t move and didn’t even look up at him.
“He won’t have anything, he’s not staying.” The disappointed waiter turned back.
“Things like you don’t think anymore. Once educated, they act by instinct, habit, reflex. The brain, like the cock, shrinks. Every action is repeated, judged, and punished with a whip or otherwise hundreds of times. Things are often intellectually limited, and over time, it gets worse. That’s normal. Additionally, frequent ingestion of urine doesn’t improve intelligence. However, a pathetic submissive like you can find satisfaction, his place, feel good. It’s up to you while you’re still capable of thinking. Once the process starts, it doesn’t stop.” Last sip of coffee, she looked at me in silence for a while.
More details on what awaits me if I accept…
Finally, she decided to speak again.
“If you wish to become this, you will start by coming to live with me for a minimum of two weeks. I will teach you the basics. Then, as long as you work and depending on your learning capacity, we’ll set a training schedule. It will take between one and two years if you’re not full-time. Understand that at some point, you won’t be able to hold a normal job. It would be more serious if you quit now. Anyway, if you think you still need to work to earn a decent retirement, know you won’t have a bank account or even an identity anymore. You will simply disappear from society, which is normal since you are no longer man nor woman. Your lifespan will be shorter than that of a normal man… I’d say a maximum of fifteen years, maybe less, it depends on whom you serve… I leave you to think about all this. Tomorrow evening, at 8 PM, send me a message with ‘yes’ or ‘no’. And now leave. You can turn off the cameras, remove the cage, the plug, and do whatever you want until tomorrow evening. After that, if you say yes, a life of pain, effort, humiliation, abstinence, disgust awaits you. A life where you will also sublime your self-offering and understand the deep meaning of the words veneration and gynarchy. If you say no, you’ll probably spend the rest of your life regretting it, but you’ll have those fleeting joys of your solitary wanks… Now get out.”
I stood up in a daze, stunned by this last part of the speech. I mumbled a “Thank you, Madam” and left with hesitant steps, lost gaze, and tumultuous thoughts.
Back Home, Reflections on My Past Life and My Future Life If I Accept to Be Submissive Back home, I sat on the floor. I stayed like this for almost an hour, thinking about my future life. In fact, I didn’t want to go to the theater, to the movies, to meet people, to watch TV at night, to cook for myself, to travel, to file taxes, to have solitary wanks… I didn’t want any of that anymore.
However, telling myself that for the rest of my life, I would be an abhorrent doormat without any personal thoughts, degraded, demeaned, and punished constantly was hard to swallow.
This last month had been tough, very tough, but I was starting to find all this almost normal. So if it was full-time, after a year, I understood that indeed, there wouldn’t be much left of my own thoughts.
I decided to get naked and kneel in the corner. I stayed like that for three hours. I wanted to think of nothing. I think, I wanted someone to decide for me. The ultimate cowardice.
Then, I reviewed my past life. What had been my greatest joys? My greatest sorrows? My prides? My shames? Ultimately, I realized I had enjoyed this life, but it was time to move on. These thoughts of submission had followed me every day of my life, every night as I fell asleep, during each of my countless masturbations! To die without having realized my submissive fantasies, truly, made no sense.
Decision Made: Acceptance of Being a Submissive
It was time for me to finally venerate women as they deserve, to serve them beyond myself, because I was born for this, no doubt, and it had taken me sixty years to accept it.
I picked up my phone and sent a message to my employer, informing him I wouldn’t be back for at least two weeks for serious personal reasons. Getting rid of a senior is always a pleasure for a boss. I quickly got a “no problem, you have plenty of vacation days left, at least six weeks, don’t hesitate.” as a reply.
I thanked him, indicating I was taking the 6 weeks. I took it as a sign of destiny. Then, I sent the following message: “yes, available immediately for six weeks” to my Mistress. I put down the phone and resumed my position.
I then felt my shoulders become less heavy. The weight hanging from my balls felt almost pleasant. Only my cock showed its desire to explode, behind its little bars, condemned for life. I wasn’t even hungry despite being like this since the end of the morning and into the evening. My legs were welded to the ground, my mind extinguished, I wanted to be nothing more than this, and I was almost there.
First Punishment for Disobedience submissive
“Disobedience is never an option. I said tomorrow evening at 8 PM. But since you seem seriously committed, I’ll just punish you for this disobedience. Pants, sweater, shoes. And your passport, I’ll need it. To 17 Rue XXX, code 2507B, top floor right by the stairs, elevators are forbidden even for dogs. You have fifteen minutes.”
I arrived without delay. The door opened to this woman, even more imposing standing. A simple nod invited me to enter, and she closed the door.
I knelt and handed over my passport.
She took it and, looking at me, said:
“This is unexpected and not pleasant for me because I have other plans. Consequently, someone will come to pick you up and take care of you until tomorrow evening. They will teach you that your first act of disobedience as a submissive should better be your last. You must obey them, of course, like you will obey everyone you meet from now on. All have full power over you, from simple punishment to death penalty… Wait here.”
Then, she left calmly, leaving me kneeling on the doormat.
