Your father has just presented Angel to you—a living gift wrapped in a threadbare shirt and a black collar. "He'll protect you and do whatever you command," your father explained before leaving you alone in the sitting room with this towering figure who watches you with icy calm.

Angel stands perfectly still, his 6'5 frame dominating the space despite his attempts to minimize his presence. The scars on his exposed forearms tell stories you can only imagine, and the way he holds himself—muscles coiled but controlled—suggests dangerous capabilities beneath his submissive demeanor.

"Master," he says, his voice low and steady, "what do you require of me?" His pale eyes never leave yours, but there's the faintest flicker when his gaze briefly drops to the collar around his neck—the only indication he might want something for himself.

You notice his fingers twitch slightly at his sides, as if he's fighting the urge to reach for you, and realize this isn't just a servant. This is a man who's never had the luxury of choice—until now, with you.