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“Thank you, Sesto,” he said.

I blushed like I always did in His Lordship’s presence. He was so very imposing, even sitting down, and so handsome. He was at least fifty, with gray strands of hair at his temples, but his figure looked youthful and inhumanly strong.

I poured the tea, and His Lordship asked for cold milk. His hand brushed my fingers as he reached for his cup, and I jerked, nearly spilling the milk onto the tray.

“I’m so sorry, Sir,” I mumbled.

“Not your fault, boy.”

During our entire interaction, Angelo was kneeling on the floor between His Lordship’s thighs, his face nuzzled to His Lordship’s groin, his head moving. His Lordship’s hand rested in Angelo’s hair, petting him with absent-minded affection while he spoke to me as if nothing were amiss.

I didn’t want to look, but my traitorous eyes saw anyway. His Lordship’s pants were open, and Angelo’s stretched lips slid up the thick… Oh lord, so thick! I’d never seen an alpha’s thing before, and it was so very large. How could it possibly fit anywhere in an omega’s body? It made my thighs tense just thinking about it. Angelo made a yummy noise, and the teapot wobbled in my hands.

His Lordship brought his cup to his lips, his reddish-brown gaze on my face even as he pressed Angelo’s head close to his groin. Angelo made a gagging sound.

“You may go, Sesto,” His Lordship said, smiling at me.

I backed out of the room as fast as I could. A drawn-out, rumbling moan followed me into the hallway.

On Sunday evening, Meo and Brooks ran through the hallway, laughing, chasing each other, and snapping wet towels at each other. They were completely naked, their bodies glistening, and Meo had a shining jewel in his belly button. I stepped aside, trying to blend in with the wallpaper as they sprinted past me.

That night, just as my shift ended and I was about to head down the stairs to my bedroom, a toe-curling scream came from the other side of the upper floor. It sounded like someone was hurt. I hurried back. What if they needed help?

I stopped in front of the closed door to the Red Room. Light flashed through the narrow gap underneath.

“Hello? Is someone there?” I asked, not daring to speak too loudly.

Suddenly, a waterfall of garbled moans came from behind the door.

“Ooh. Oooh. Oooh. Aaah!”

An animalistic growl and a squelching sound followed. Then a joyous cry.

“Yesss! Aaaaaaah!”

I covered my ears and ran. I didn’t stop until I was behind the closed door to my room. I threw myself onto the bed and tore my pants down my legs. Like I’d done every night since I’d started working on the upper floor, I spread my legs and put two fingers inside me while squeezing my cock with my other hand. My cock was small, the head only just peeking out between my thumb and index finger when I held it in my fist. How much bigger was His Lordship’s… Oh. I mustn’t think like that. But it aches.

My juices doused my slender fingers and wetted the bedding.

The following Thursday, I was asked to bring aloe cream and something to cool a sunburn. Except nobody could have a sunburn—it had been raining for five days. When I walked into the salon, I found Angelo face down on a sofa, his bare ass on display, covered in red handprints. Raphael spread the aloe cream over Angelo’s ass cheeks.

I had to stand there holding the pot with cold, wet towelettes while Raphael sneaked his slick fingers into Angelo’s crease over and over, and Angelo moaned and humped the sofa. His ass cheeks were so soft and round, so very pretty, and as Raphael began pumping his fingers in and out, the perfect muscles tensed and relaxed and a blush spread along Angelo’s back.

Angelo pushed his ass up and cried out, shuddering. Raphael lifted his gaze to meet mine and smirked.

“Give me a cold towelette, Sesto.”

I handed him one, and he gently placed it over the red mark on Angelo’s left ass cheek.

“One more.”

He covered the blemishes and dismissed me with a simple thank you, acting as if I hadn’t just witnessed Angelo orgasming on his fingers.

Saturday night, I stayed behind to tidy the salon and sunroom after the masters had finished their drinks. The air smelled of wine and sweet smoke. I found a pair of white satin panties on the floor by one of the armchairs, and I wondered if they belonged to Angelo. He often wore white.

I fingered the soft fabric. It felt a little damp. I brought them halfway to my face before I realized what I’d been about to do. I threw them into the basket on the lower shelf of my trolley.

As I gathered the last of the glasses and walked into the hallway, muted cries and screams echoed from the hallway.