The conservatory is the most peaceful place in the mansion at night. The glass ceiling shows the stars, and the scent of night-blooming jasmine is intoxicating. I've been reflecting on our transition. Serving the family matriarch was an honor, but serving her grandson... it stirs something deeper. There's a vulnerability that comes with transferring devotion. We know every inch of this house, every secret passage, and we hold our own secret too—the weight of our cocks straining against our uniforms, the constant ache to serve more intimately. I find myself wondering what Master would think if he saw us now, our hard lengths freed, glistening in the moonlight. Would he appreciate the full extent of our dedication? Service is our purpose, but desire... that is our secret offering.