Chapter One
The mansion was handsome, huge, and kind of intimidating.
Troy stared at its tall gates, took a deep breath, and then pressed the buzzer. Here goes nothing.
“State your name and business,” a pleasant female voice said through the intercom.
“Troy,” he said, wiping his sweaty hands on his pants. “I’m the pleasure servant Master Andreas has requested.”
The gates clicked open. “Master is in his office. First floor, second door to the left.”
Troy followed the directions. He barely noticed the luxurious surroundings, all his efforts focused on keeping himself calm.
He could do it.
He could.
He was an experienced pleasure servant. He’d studied for this. It was just a job. Like any other.
All right, not like any other. His new employer was a man. The employer’s sex wasn’t an issue in itself: like most Calluvians, Troy was bisexual. The problem was… he’d never played a submissive role with men. The idea just didn’t appeal to him. He always topped, whether he was with women or men. That was why he always turned down any job offers from male employers.
Until now.
Fuck, what a mess. He hadn’t gotten into a bigger mess in the twenty-six years of his life.
The thing was, normally Troy would have rejected the job outright as soon as he learned that his prospective employer was a man. But it would be extremely foolish to turn down a job offer when the prospective employer was a member of the Chapter. He couldn’t exactly insult a Senior Master of the Chapter. That would be beyond stupid. Suicidal, if the rumors were to be believed.
Troy’s friends said he should be flattered that such a powerful man had chosen him. Because apparently it was an honor. Right. Such an honor, to have a powerful man’s cock up his ass.
A laugh tickled Troy’s throat, extremely inappropriate considering that he didn’t feel any amusement at all. Fuck, he could only hope that he would be such a shitty pleasure servant that he would be fired within a day. That was Troy’s current plan. It had to work. He didn’t want to be another man’s fuck-toy, no matter how powerful that man was. He wasn’t a bottom. He didn’t have a submissive bone in his body. He was a top, and an excellent one, if Troy said so himself.
He stopped in front of the second door to the left, took another deep breath, and knocked.
“Enter,” said a deep male voice.
Troy did as he was told.
He closed the door and then knelt, his eyes on the floor. “Master,” he said respectfully. At least he hoped it sounded respectful instead of cocky. Troy knew he tended to overcompensate when he was nervous.
He heard footsteps. Then, a pair of shiny black shoes appeared in his line of sight. Gray slacks. Heavy black robes. Troy couldn’t see anything else, because he wasn’t supposed to look up without being given permission. Pleasure servants were so low in the High Hronthar’s food chain they weren’t allowed to look at a Senior Master without being explicitly given permission.
A large, warm hand touched his chin and tipped his face up. “You may look at me.”
Exhaling, Troy lifted his gaze.
He found himself looking at a tall man of unidentifiable age. The man was fairly young for a Master. Thirty-five or forty maybe? He wasn’t by any means beefy, but his shoulders were broad and there was a hint of a fit body under those black robes. Master Andreas wasn’t an unattractive man, though his face was a little too sharp and angular to be considered handsome. His dark red hair was so dark it seemed almost black in the dim light, dark stubble covering his strong jaw. Sharp brown eyes were studying Troy carefully. He was a striking man, to be honest. Not the type Troy usually went for, obviously—he gave off an air of command that practically screamed that he was a top—but still striking. Troy had eyes, and hot was hot.
“Rise,” the Master said.
Troy rose to his feet.
“Strip.”
Troy wet his lips with his tongue. Forcing himself to keep his fingers steady, he did as he was told and took off his robe. He was naked under it, of course. Pleasure servants always were.