Male Submissive

On the third year of our anniversary, the cruise ship Louise York—my fiancee—and I were on sank. I gave her the only life jacket we had before getting dragged under the currents and losing contact with the world. Three years later, after I healed from my injuries, I rushed back just in time to see her getting married to my adopted brother. Since she owed me her life, she was forced to marry me instead. That caused her to start hating me, because I had separated her from the man she loved. Even my parents accused me of being immature. They said that I was ruining my brother’s happiness. Their coldness and rejection caused me to become obsessive, and I fell into despair. Then, my family’s enemy came looking for revenge. To save my life, Louise ended up being stabbed right into her heart. Blood gushed out of her as she tried her best to drag me to a safe place. “Nathan, I’m returning the life I owe you. I just hope that you won’t bother me again. I just want… to be with Stanley…” I felt my chest twist in pain as I died full of hatred. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back to the day I crashed their wedding.

Three years ago, my childhood sweetheart, Eleanor Carter, left me at the altar to marry Dillan Perez—the adopted son of my family. The church erupted in whispers. I became the laughingstock in a single breath. Then Victoria Brown—the aloof, formidable CEO of the Brown Group—stepped forward. "I'll marry you, Lambert," she said, her voice cutting through the wreckage of my pride. I said yes. For three years, she was the perfect wife. Gentle. Attentive. She was my salvation. But there was one thing that always hung between us like a quiet ache—we never had a child. The doctors found nothing wrong with either of us. Victoria would just smile softly and say, "It will happen when the time is right." Today, I came home early. The door to our bedroom was slightly open. I heard her voice. She was on the phone with her best friend. I didn't mean to listen. But then I heard my name. "Lambert wants a child with me," she said. "But he doesn't know I've been on birth control the whole time. That's why we never got pregnant." My blood turned cold. "As long as he has no heir," she continued, "Dillan's place in the Clark family stays secure." I stood there, frozen. My hands went cold. My heart shattered into pieces. I was just a tool to protect the man she truly cared for. I didn’t confront her. Instead, I calmly planned my death—a quiet disappearance from her world.

After connecting to a call hosted on a treasure-appraisal livestream, I find out that the "Fields of Freedom" stamp my grandpa has left me with is worth 10 million dollars. I've been troubled as to how I should afford my upcoming wedding with my girlfriend, Danielle Dalton. Delighted by the news, I call Danielle to tell her about it. Unexpectedly, Danielle, who's always such a prude about physical contact to the point that she refuses to let me kiss her, turns up on my doorstep that night. She spends the night draining me of my stamina with her skills and body. When I wake up once again, both Danielle and my stamp are gone. I visit Danielle's home to get my stamp back. But her father instantly shoves me out of the door angrily. "We don't welcome you here! Get lost right now!" At first, I thought there was a misunderstanding between us, so I still held back on my rudeness. But when I notice how rude Danielle's father is being to me, I decide to go all out on him. "Sure, I can leave, but you must return the stamp Danielle has stolen from me—" Before I can finish speaking, someone has dumped a bucket of ice-cold water onto my face. It turns out that the culprit is Danielle's mother. As she carries the bucket, she scowls at me, her features completely twisted. "Who the hell did you claim to have stolen your stamp, huh? Don't you dare run your mouth without any proof! I'll definitely sue you, you know!" Having realized how vile Danielle's parents actually are, I can't help but feel a strong hint of relief. Thank goodness I had only shown Danielle a fake copy of the stamp last night.

For the ninth time, my wife chose to have an abortion for the sake of her ailing first love. This time, I did not stop her. Even when my grandfather flew into a fit of rage, his heart faltering as he called me a disgrace to the family, I stayed silent. The truth was that I had already decided to divorce her. In three days, I'd be leaving for Westmarch to begin my research. Until then, I have decided to grant her every wish. If she wanted me to hand over a promotion so her first love could take the credit, I gave it up without hesitation. If she wanted to bring him home to rest, I vacated the master bedroom on the spot. She beamed with satisfaction, praising me for finally learning to be "sensible." She promised that once he recovered, she would give me a child of my own. However, what she did not know was that there would be no next time.

Our expedition team ventured into a desert wilderness to investigate rare mineral resources when we were suddenly struck by extreme heat that reached 158 °F. I nearly passed out from dehydration and quickly reached into my backpack for the electrolyte water I had prepared in advance. Just as I was about to drink it, I realized the bottle was half-filled with urine. When I turned around, I saw Ben Murphy, my wife’s childhood friend, gulping down my electrolyte water. As I was about to confront him, Amy Garner, my wife, grabbed my sleeve and said, “Don’t be mad. I gave Ben your electrolyte water. He’s almost dehydrated. You can make do with this for now.” My vision started to blur. Clutching the half-empty bottle of urine, I asked through gritted teeth, “I’m dehydrated. Instead of letting me rehydrate properly, you want me to drink this? Are you trying to kill me?” Amy was upset. “Don’t be ridiculous! Ben doesn’t work out daily like you do. He can’t handle this heat. Wasn’t it right to give him the electrolyte water? Besides, urine can hydrate you, too! Don’t be picky at a time like this.” Seeing how unreasonable she was being, I sent a distress signal with my location just before losing consciousness. [Severely dehydrated, near death. Expedition mission suspended. Request immediate rescue. Also reporting a robber in the team. Notify the police immediately.]

After our company loses the eight-million-dollar deal, my girlfriend, Lindsey Corwell, gets mad at me for the first time ever. She goes as far as to heavily insult me in front of everyone in the company. Once we get home at night, she retains her professionalism. "There's no such thing as a romantic relationship between us when it comes to work. The fact that you screwed up still stands. This is your fault." Meanwhile, Lindsey's junior, Gerald Whitaker, sends me an apologetic text. "This is all my fault, Julian. I'm the one who screwed up the deal. Lindsey bought me a cupcake to comfort me. It's pretty delicious. Let me buy you a cupcake as well." The next morning, Lindsey chucks the breakfast I've made for her into the trash can without hesitation. "I told you many times that I don't eat breakfast!" At work, my colleague, Joshua Miller, suddenly approaches me and begins sharing gossip with me. "The newbie really is fearless, eh? He actually had the guts to start a conversation with Ms. Corwell and even bought her breakfast! Guess what happened after that? Not only did she eat it, but she also claimed that it was tasty!" Oh, so that's how it goes, huh? Whatever. Anyway, the woman who keeps texting me is still trying to get me to switch lovers. "If worse comes to worst, I don't mind being a side chick! C'mon, give me a try!" I purse my lips in return. "It's fine. You shall be my official girlfriend now."

On one mid-autumn day, my national classified mission finally came to an end. I dug out the phone I hadn't touched for four years, planning to call my wife, Nora Christie, and tell her that I'd be coming home. But the moment my phone screen lit up, I saw a public court notice declaring me… dead. I froze. Then, I looked closer. The person who had filed the petition to have me legally declared dead was Nora. Frowning with confusion, I dialed her number. With a soft chuckle, she brushed it off, saying that it must have been a clerical error by some court intern. Then, she asked when I would be coming home. Just when I was about to answer, I heard a soft, restrained moan from Nora. "Ah, don't touch me there…" Realizing something wasn't right, I told her that I would be back in a few more years before hanging up. Then, I grabbed the medal I had earned from four years of service to my country, and took the next train home. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw when I arrived. Right outside my front door, Nora was holding a wedding ceremony. The groom was Henry Crowley, the poor student I had sponsored!

To protect the assistant who had been evading taxes, she deliberately gave false testimony in her role as my superior's wife, putting all the blame on me. I protested endlessly, but the law held me accountable. I was imprisoned for two months. Upon release, my colleagues turned against me, ostracizing me and destroying my promotion chances. Seeing that I neither cried nor caused a scene, my wife assumed that I had finally submitted. She even threatened to make amends with a lavish wedding for me. However, during the wedding vows, the assistant, suddenly overtaken by jealousy, ran to the company rooftop and threatened my wife with suicide to force her to cancel the wedding. My wife, who had always been obedient to him, panicked. She abandoned everyone at the ceremony and spent the entire night comforting her assistant. Afterwards, she calmly explained: "Wilson is young and impulsive. I was just afraid he might get hurt. Besides, you were released from prison so early thanks to him. He helped a lot. By right, he's still your lifesaver. I couldn't just abandon him." I looked at the couple rings she had just put on her finger, let out a faint hum, and said nothing. She believed I accepted her excuse and was pleased, even making an unprecedented promise: once she had calmed the assistant, she would take me on a honeymoon. However, she seemed to have forgotten one thing. She had already signed the divorce papers, and I had filed a lawsuit in court to have the case heard. From that moment on, we were no longer husband and wife. We were only plaintiff and defendant.

I've been in a relationship with Wendy Hudson for ten years. Somehow, I'm not surprised at all when I find out that she's been cheating on me. But what surprises me is the fact that she's been cheating on me with her uncle, Timothy Zuckerman. On our wedding anniversary, Wendy finally fulfills her promise to go on another honeymoon trip with me to make it up to me for the lost one. But as soon as we arrive at the airport, her phone gets crammed with text messages instantly. All it takes is one glance at the phone for her brows to be tangled into a frown, which is weird, considering that she's the type who keeps her composure at all times. "Darling, my best friend has been hospitalized because of an acute disease. I need to visit her right now." The way Wendy speaks is very rapid. The genuine anxiety on her face makes it difficult for me to say no. As I watch her silhouette disappear from the VIP passageway, I rip up the ticket in my hands. Then, I tap on my phone to see the photo my assistant has just sent me. Heh… The truth is, Wendy's best friend is currently on a honeymoon trip with her boyfriend in another country. How is it possible for said friend to get hospitalized due to an acute disease? I'd like to see who on earth Wendy is actually visiting at the hospital!

To attract more potential customers, my wife decided to join the cycling community. During the two months I was away on a business trip, she posted new cycling routes every single day on the map and became a well-known cycling socialite in the local scene. A neighbor suddenly sent me a video. The location tag pointed straight to my backyard. [Dude, your wife is something else. Already found herself a riding partner? Looks like the bike’s not the only thing getting ridden.] In the video, an unfamiliar lace panties hung on the handlebars of the bicycle. The lush grass swayed rhythmically, with an undulating figure occasionally peeking from behind it. I dialed her number. “What are you doing?” She squealed, “I’m out for a ride, honey. I’ve been landing a lot of high-quality clients lately. I’m working really hard to make money!” “Oh?” I smiled. “With your body?” I tightened my grip on the phone and enunciated each word, “It’s pretty dark in the backyard. Want me to turn on the lights for the two of you?