Sub for Hire – Serving his Master series Book 4

A Master who refuses to love again… A sub who dare not reveal his heart…

Josh’s publisher is nipping at his heels for his latest book, but first, Josh has to get rid of the evil day job eating up all his time. When he stumbles on an ad for subs-for-hire at a m/m BDSM dungeon—no sex required, great money promised—Josh leaps at the stopgap measure to keep a roof over his head until his publisher’s advance arrives. When he gets the gig, he sets one hard and fast rule for himself—no emotional attachments with the clients. This is work, not romance.

Michael’s heart, while not broken, has definitely been trampled on recently. So when a friend suggests hiring a sub, rather than dealing with dating and emotional entanglements, Michael looks into it. The sub boys at the dungeon know what to expect, and there isn’t any messy emotional angst to get in the way. This scenario is a relief, right up until he meets slave j, whose graceful submission takes his breath away.

As Michael schedules more and more sessions, both men struggle to keep their emotions at bay. But just when things might be moving from a rent-a-sub arrangement to something real, another Master decides to make Josh his own, no matter the cost…

Sub for Hire is a stand-alone Serving his Master series novel. Powerful M/M BDSM with a romantic twist.


Michael paid the cabbie and climbed out of the taxi, at first not certain he was at the right place. He checked the address he’d written down when he’d called for an appointment with the number on the door.

The establishment was an inconspicuous storefront wedged between a dry cleaners and a convenience store. There was no sign and nothing to indicate the place contained dungeons for hire. The small sign on the door read “By appointment only”. Michael rang the doorbell and waited. After a moment a voice issued from the speaker beside the bell. “May I help you?”

“I’m Michael Sutherland. I have an appointment.” The door buzzed, releasing the lock. Michael pulled it opened and stepped in.

He glanced around. The room looked like a reception area for a law office, done in muted colors with two chairs and a sofa set up around a coffee table, and a receptionist’s desk across from the waiting area.

A slight man of about thirty-five was sitting at the desk hunched over his computer. He looked up as Michael entered and rose to his feet. Coming around the counter, he extended his hand. “Welcome, Mr. Sutherland. I’m Chris Drury, Mr. Black’s assistant. We spoke on the phone.” He ushered Michael toward the sofa. “What can I get you? A glass of wine? A cola?”

“I’m fine, thanks.” Michael noticed the pile of photo albums on the coffee table. Chris, following his gaze, nodded. “Those are the portfolios we talked about over the phone. Each of our slave boys has his own album. After we talk a little, feel free to browse.”

They talked about the dungeon, its rules, cost structure and what one could expect from an hour’s play. As they spoke, Michael had the distinct impression he was being interviewed at the same time. He approved, thinking how such a place could be a magnet to sadistic bullies masquerading as Doms. Though the thought of the surveillance cameras made him slightly uncomfortable, he also recognized their merit.

Chris took him for a brief tour of the dungeons, which were impressively outfitted with numerous torture devices plus enough whips, crops, floggers and rope to scene with an entire army, so it seemed to Michael.

Back upstairs, Michael waited while Chris ran his driver’s license number through some kind of check. Apparently satisfied, Chris said, “So, what do you think? Would you like to give one of our slaves a try?” He waved toward the portfolios. “Why don’t you have a look? If you’re interested, I can set something up for you.”

He’d come this far, why not check them out? Michael flipped through several of the books. Each guy was good-looking, no question about that. From the headshots, he might have been looking at models’ portfolios for a talent agency.

The other shots, however, put that image to rest with the slave bound in rope, or kneeling, naked with forehead to the ground, ass invitingly displayed for the camera, telltale pink welts giving evidence of a recent whipping.

Michael smiled to himself and shook his head. The place seemed legitimate, but was it really worth several hundred dollars to buy a stranger’s time for an artificial scene that was being monitored, or, for all he knew, recorded?

He was about to decline when his eye fell on the last portfolio, which had been set to one side on the coffee table. He picked it up. Gold letters had been stamped on red leather: slave j. Unable to resist, he opened it.

There were several very sexy poses of a guy bound in ropes or chained to a St. Andrew’s cross. He was tall with long, lean muscles and strong, athletic-looking legs.

But it was the headshot to which Michael kept returning. He studied the photo for a long while. The face was a strong one with a square jaw and dark blond eyebrows thick and gently curved over clear green eyes the color of olives in a martini. His hair was longish and dark blond, curling down the back of a strong neck. It was sun-kissed with streaks of honey. His expression was earnest, something yearning in its gaze. Michael couldn’t take his eyes off the photo.

What would it be like to use this man? To pay in order to strip and bind him? To spank that sexy, pert ass? To whip that strong, well-muscled back? Despite himself, Michael’s cock rose, causing him to shift and cross his legs. He glanced over at Chris, but he was busy at his keyboard.

“Excuse me,” Michael said. Chris looked up at once with a polite inclination of his head. “This one. Slave j. Is he available?”

Chapter 3

Josh punched in the access code and entered the dungeons. Chris told him to report to dungeon number four. The door was shut. He knocked lightly and waited. No one responded so he opened the door and peered in. This dungeon was outfitted much like the others, including the usual bondage equipment, restraining devices and shelves loaded with BDSM toys. There were two large chairs in a corner. Josh moved toward them to sit and wait for his new client.

At precisely seven o’clock there was a light tap on the open door and a man entered. He had light blue eyes, a cleft chin, full pouting lips and a long, straight nose. His wavy hair was light brown and cut fairly short. A tendril escaped and hung over his forehead like a question mark. His face was clean-shaven, his eyes sparkling as his lips curled into a half smile.

“Slave j, I presume.”

Josh rose from the chair. “Yes Sir.” He stepped toward the man and they shook hands. His grasp was firm, his fingers cool against Josh’s own. Josh was taller by several inches. He stepped back, not wanting to make the man look up at him. The guy was definitely easy on the eyes. His body looked firm and muscular beneath the white shirt and dark tailored trousers he wore.

He stood with his jacket casually slung over one shoulder as he studied Josh. His eyes flickered over Josh’s face before gliding down his chest and lower. When he looked back up, Josh thought he saw a faint flush on his cheeks.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Michael.”

Josh was surprised. To date, clients had invariably introduced themselves as Master this or Lord that, in keeping with his own artificial appellation. Michael waved toward the chairs and they sat. Michael leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. He smiled, revealing even, white teeth.

“I’ve never been to a dungeon before.” Michael’s voice was a pleasing baritone. “This whole concept of purchasing the favors of a sub is new to me, but I suppose it has its merits. Keeps things simple. Everyone knows just what’s expected. No messy emotions to get in the way.”

Josh didn’t respond. Michael continued. “An acquaintance of mine who’s into the scene recommended this place and especially recommended you. His name is Harry. You may know him as Lord H?”

“Yes.” Josh nodded, hoping his face didn’t give him away. Lord H was a good-looking, extremely arrogant man who liked to put a leash on Josh and make him crawl while he slapped him with a riding crop. He also enjoyed watching Josh make himself come while kneeling naked at his feet. From his admittedly limited contact with the guy, Josh had formed the opinion Lord H was one of those guys who masqueraded as a Dom but was really more of a bully.

He hoped Michael wasn’t another bully gearing up to call him a little piece of shit while he ordered him to “crawl like the pathetic dog he was”. Josh had never found humiliation erotic. But then, it was the client’s dollar, the client’s hour. He could have whatever he wanted as long as it was within the confines of the dungeon rules.

Josh leaned forward, assuming an expression of eager expectancy, ready to hear which perversions on the BDSM menu had been selected for today.

“Tell me about yourself. Would you call yourself submissive?”

Josh was startled by the question. The initial interview was a formality, really an opportunity for the client and sub to meet face-to-face before committing to a scene. To date, no client had asked him anything even remotely personal. Instead they generally outlined what they expected for the hour and he accepted their terms. He had yet to refuse a client.

Michael was regarding him with polite interest. He marshaled his thoughts, trying to gauge what the guy wanted. He decided to answer honestly. “I would, yes. With the right man.”

Michael nodded. “But for money you’ll submit to whomever stands before you, is that right? You’ll allow yourself to be stripped, humiliated, beaten, used for the pleasure and amusement of a virtual stranger, all in the name of the almighty dollar.”

Josh bristled. What was this guy’s point? Who the fuck was this pompous prick to lecture him on his choice of occupation? He was the one buying the service he was busy disparaging!

Josh forced himself to remain calm. “I’m sorry, I don’t see what this has to do—”

Michael cut him off with a hand raised in conciliation. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend. I’m just curious, I suppose, how someone could do this. I don’t think I could. I wouldn’t have the courage.”

Somewhat mollified, though still annoyed, Josh said stiffly, “We do what we have to.”

“We do what we want to in the end.” Michael’s voice was soft. He stood. “I apologize. If I haven’t thoroughly alienated you, shall we proceed?”

Josh swallowed his irritation and pushed himself to slip into the deferential mode he assumed during these sessions. Composed, his face blank, he said, “I’m ready, Sir, to serve you.” He moved toward the timer and pressed the button to start the clock.

“Stand in the center of the room and pull your pants to your knees.”

“Should I take off—”

“I just told you what to do.”

Discomfited, Josh hurried to the center of the room and unzipped his jeans. He pulled them to his knees. He wasn’t wearing underwear. Michael looked him over for a while. Standing as he was with his pants halfway down, Josh felt like a naughty schoolboy waiting to be punished. Maybe that was the intention. Maybe Michael liked to role play. He supposed he would soon find out.

Michael walked slowly toward him and stood in front of him, his eyes focused on Josh’s face, completely ignoring the exposed cock.

“What do you think of when you masturbate?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You didn’t hear me, or you don’t understand the question?”

“I—I heard you. I’m just not—”

“No, you’re not, are you? I can see you haven’t had much training. Not as a sub. I suppose it’s never too late.” He smiled, his eyes dancing. Josh felt ridiculous standing there with his pants around his knees while this man tried to get into his head.

“We’ll try again. I’m paying handsomely for your time. I’d appreciate it if you’d cooperate and answer the questions put to you.” He paused a beat, his voice lowering nearly to a whisper.

“When you’re lying alone in your bed at night with only your hand for company and you close your eyes, what images come to mind?”

His tone was persuasive, even commanding. He stood very close, his face inches from Josh’s. Josh keenly felt the vulnerability of his position with his pants around his knees. He wanted to cover himself but knew better. He kept his hands by his sides. He could feel his cock rising in response to the handsome man’s proximity. Michael’s piercing blue eyes were locked on his. He couldn’t seem to look away.

Michael lifted his hand, and for a second Josh thought he was going slap him. Instead he traced his finger lightly down the line of Josh’s jaw, his touch lingering and sensual. Josh had a sudden nearly uncontrollable desire to lean down and kiss the stranger in front of him.

“What makes you hard?” His voice was smooth and low, like melted sex. Josh clenched his fists to keep from stroking his own cock. Michael persisted. “What moves you? What matters? Close your eyes and tell me what you see when you’re alone in the dark with only your dreams.”

Josh closed his eyes. I see you. I want you.Of course he couldn’t say that—wouldn’t say it. It wasn’t even true. He was only aroused by the man’s dominance and his good looks. It was lust speaking, nothing more. But the man wanted an answer. For whatever reason, he was paying to hear what Josh had to say.

“A strong man,” he finally offered.

“Go on.”

Josh took a breath and blew it out. “Someone masterful. Someone who knows how to control me. Someone who understands what I need.”

“What do you need? Tell me.”

Josh swallowed. Michael was standing so close he could feel his warm breath on his cheek. Josh’s erect cock brushed the soft fabric of Michael’s pants. For the first time in the weeks he’d been working this job someone had reached him—reached past his passive, pseudo-submissive front to the real sub who lurked beneath.

His guard down, Josh blurted, “I need someone who appreciates the courage it takes to submit, someone who looks deeper than mere bondage and discipline to the potential for…” He faltered and pressed his lips together. He had been about to say “love” but found his mouth refused to form the word. He’d never shared his secret dreams with anyone. Why should he tell this stranger, this man who paid to play at being a Dom with him?

Michael took a step back, frowning. “I understand. Even without the words you’re biting back. I apologize. It’s your body and your obedience I’ve purchased for the hour, not your mind, certainly not your heart. Any control I might exert over you doesn’t mean shit the second that timer goes off.”

He brushed his hands together as if wiping them clean, and said abruptly, “Strip and stand at attention in the center of the room, hands locked behind your head. Eyes on the opposite wall. Don’t move.”

Josh gave an inward sigh of relief. This sort of command he understood. He shucked his clothing and stood as instructed, wondering if Michael favored the flogger or cane, the whipping post or the cross. Whatever he wanted, Josh could handle. As long as Michael stayed out of his head, he would be fine.