THE KINGSTONS DESIRE

HIS SUBMISSIVE

MADDISON'S POV

The night had begun with the kind of dread that sat heavily in my chest, like a weight I couldn’t shake off. I had braced myself for Jared’s cruelty, for the cold, unfeeling man I knew him to be. I expected that he would take what was his without a second thought, without care for how I felt or what I wanted. After all, that’s what our marriage was, wasn’t it? A transaction. He had made that clear from the beginning. I was his to use, to possess, and there was no room for my feelings in this arrangement.

But the night didn’t go as I’d feared.

As Jared stood in front of me in the dimly lit room, his eyes roaming over my body, I could see the hunger in his gaze. It made my skin crawl, knowing he saw me as something to devour. But then, something shifted. When his fingers brushed against me and he realized I was still untouched, still innocent in a way I hadn’t expected to matter to him, he paused. His eyes flickered with something I couldn’t quite place—surprise, maybe even restraint.

“I’ll go easy on you,” he had whispered, his breath warm against my ear. “Just this once.”

I couldn’t bring myself to respond. I didn’t trust my voice not to betray the whirlwind of emotions raging inside me—relief, fear, confusion. Instead, I nodded, my body stiff beneath his touch, waiting for the inevitable. It was strange, this moment of reprieve, and I hated that I felt grateful for it. Grateful that the man who had bound me to him in a loveless contract was offering me the smallest mercy, as if that was something I should thank him for.

And yet, I was grateful.

Jared was not gentle, but he wasn’t as rough as I had expected. His touch was calculated, practiced. He knew exactly what to do to elicit the right reactions from me, and though my body responded, my heart stayed locked in its cage. I refused to let this mean anything more than it was—a necessary duty, a price to be paid for the life my father had thrust upon me.

But as the night wore on, something unexpected happened. My body betrayed me. I found myself giving in to the sensations, to the way Jared’s hands explored me, the way he whispered low, commanding words that seemed to override my fear. I hated that I wanted more, hated that I was starting to lose myself in the moment. And when the first wave of pleasure hit me, I screamed his name, my voice breaking through the silence of the room, and I hated myself for it.

He reveled in it, of course. Jared took pride in making me lose control, in pulling me to the edge of pleasure and then over. He wanted me to remember that it was him who had brought me to this point, that he owned every reaction, every gasp, every cry.

And when he finished, his breath ragged in my ear, I felt a sense of hollow relief. It was over. For now.

We lay there afterward, our bodies tangled in the sheets, and I felt a strange sense of detachment. Jared had done his part, and so had I. But it wasn’t just physical exhaustion that weighed me down—it was the emotional toll of realizing that this was my life now. This would be my reality every night, and there was no escape.

I fell asleep, my mind clouded with too many thoughts to process. When I woke up the next morning, the first thing I noticed was the cold. The bed beside me was empty, and Jared was gone. He had left without a word, without even a trace that he had been there, as if the night we shared meant nothing to him.

Of course, it hadn’t. It was just another part of the transaction, another step in our arrangement.

I stared at the empty space beside me for what felt like hours, the realization slowly sinking in. This was what my life would be like. I would wake up alone more often than not, and Jared would go about his business as if I didn’t exist beyond our bedroom. I was nothing more than an accessory, something to be used and discarded as he saw fit.

I had thought about making breakfast for him, maybe as a small act of defiance, or perhaps to show that I was still trying to be the wife I had been raised to be. But what was the point? He didn’t care. He never would. I was just a convenience to him, a body to satisfy his needs, and nothing more.

Wrapping the blanket tighter around myself, I rose from the bed and walked over to the window. The Kingston estate stretched out before me, all pristine lawns and perfectly manicured hedges. It was beautiful in a way that felt suffocating, as if every blade of grass, every flower petal, was designed to remind me of how trapped I was here.

My reflection in the glass stared back at me, the girl who had once dreamed of a life full of love and happiness now bound in a marriage that had none of those things. I looked like a stranger to myself. The woman staring back at me wasn’t someone who belonged in this world of wealth and power, of cold transactions and empty promises.

But this was my life now, and I had to accept it.

Maybe, just maybe, if I became the perfect wife—the submissive, obedient woman Jared wanted—I could carve out some small place for myself in his world. Maybe if I played the role well enough, he would eventually see me. Not just as something to possess, but as someone who mattered.

But deep down, I knew better. Jared didn’t care about love or connection. He cared about control, about power, and I was just another piece of that puzzle. I would never be more than what I was to him now—a wife in name, a body in his bed, a shadow in the halls of this mansion.

The thought made my chest tighten, and for a moment, I felt the sting of tears at the corners of my eyes. I blinked them back, refusing to let myself cry. Not now. Not here. I couldn’t afford to break down. I had to stay strong, even if I was slowly crumbling on the inside.

This was my life, my reality, and no amount of wishing or hoping would change that.

Jared had left before dawn, slipping away into whatever business or deals consumed his mind, leaving me behind like an afterthought. I wondered if he even spared me a second glance before he walked out the door. Probably not.

I sighed, running a hand through my tangled hair. I would have to get used to this—waking up alone, feeling the emptiness settle in my chest every morning, knowing that I was nothing more than a means to an end for him.

Maybe, if I was lucky, he would at least come to respect me. Or, at the very least, he would see me as something more than a pawn in his game.

But I doubted it.

This was the life I would live for the rest of my days, a loveless marriage, with the hope that maybe, one day, he would

see me if I was his submissive—just as he would want.