Black Rose

by Steele, Suzanne

  She walks by me and grabs my cock, squeezing it hard. “Your cock is hard. You’re such a whore for me, aren’t you? You’re such a little slut, boy.”

  She squeezes again as her emerald green eyes bore into me, demanding an answer. When I hesitate, her smack is swift and painful as it makes contact with my face. I lower my eyes in contrition and respond, “Yes, Goddess. I’m truly a slut for you. I’m a mere boy toy and one who is not worthy of your attentions.”

  “I’m fucking waiting,” she hisses, demanding even more verbal submission from me. She is always pushing my boundaries. It’s one of the reasons I love her like I do. “Yes, Ma’am, I’m a whore and a slut. I’m whatever pleases my Mistress.”

  “A whore and a slut for whom?”

  Her voice is a sinister whisper tickling my ear.

  “Only for you, Mistress.”

  “Such a good little fuck toy.” She taunts me, gently rubbing her palm over my cheek—a cheek that still stings and is no doubt sporting a bright red handprint. “Now get your fucking ass in the car and you’re getting your Mistress coffee before we go to the scene of the crime. You may think you’re the boss at work, but we aren’t clocked in yet. You. Will. Do. As. I. Say.”

  She hands me her blazer, holding it out and daring me to defy her. I gently take it and walk behind her to help her put it on.

  “Such a good boy,” she purrs.

  My cock is really hard now. The woman makes me crazy. She has me wrapped around her little finger and I gladly give into her. She has all but moved in and I simply can’t imagine my life without her. She insists on us being monogamous and I couldn’t be happier about her decision. The bruises on my ass cause me to shift in my seat as I get in the car. She eyes me in that way she does when I know she’s trying to read me. The scary thing is that I know she can… like an open book.

  “The next time I see you talking to that fucking receptionist that works for you, it won’t be a paddle I’ll be using; it will be a whip and chastity for a week. You stay away from that bitch. You and I both know she is trying to get my big thick cock, which just so happens to be between my slave’s legs.”

  She grabs my chin and squeezes, forcing me to look at her.

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “I still haven’t decided if I’m going to make you fire her. There are plenty of willing slaves out there but I chose you. Are you worthy?”

  I hang my head in shame. “No, Mistress, but this unworthy slave would die without you. I need you.”

  “Such a good boy,” she says as her hand smooths over my cock and it jumps beneath her touch. She chuckles because she is all too aware my words are true… I need my Mistress. I make a mental note to stay away from the receptionist. I shift in the seat once again as the bruises give another heated reminder of all that my Mistress provides for me, reaffirming my need for her. I make my way out into traffic to hit the drive-thru at the specialty coffee shop she prefers. A feeling of warmth and contentment passes through me as I bask in the glow of being owned…

  Chapter Nineteen

  Agent Turner

  I chuckle as I listen to the witness talking while an evidence tech scrapes underneath her fingernails. We are looking for epidermis that she could have possibly scratched off of a john who tried to assault her.

  “I’m telling you that crazy mother fucker had death in his eyes. He was trying to kill me. After all the kinky shit that he put me through, I should have been paid a hell of a lot more than a hundred dollar bill. Icing me down and wanting me to play dead was one thing, but when he went to choking me, I beat his ass and left him in the hotel room. I got his license plate number too. Why is it it’s always you white boys who are so kinky? Y’all must have some fucked up kink DNA or sumpin’. I don’t mind a little bit of kink but I ain’t gonna have no mother fucker tryin’ to piss on me and playin’ dead is just weird. Damn, I was countin’ on a good night too, maybe even getting some dick from my Daddy, but now it’s all just shot to hell in a hand-basket.”

  I reach over, taking the small piece of paper from her hand, and a part of me hopes this is our guy. Too many women have been needlessly killed.

  I always work these cases harder because I know if I don’t, many officers will let prostitutes’ cases go cold. I don’t work that way.

  Once again, I chuckle as Shanta looks at one of my agents through the large plate glass window. “Who is that fine ass white man? Now for a man that looks that good, I could go straight or kinky, or whateva I needed to go. That is one fine lookin’ mother fuckin’ white boy.”

  Well, at least she is entertaining and funny. On two hours sleep, I could use a laugh or two.

  I fiddle on my tablet, running the plate number and my eyes fly wide open. I look up and lock eyes with my partner. Our attacker is none other than the good Dr. Anderson. It still isn’t enough to prosecute him though; I need proof he killed those women.

  I’ll wait until we’re done with Shanta before I get into the details on the information I’ve found. I have to say, this is one of the few times I have been surprised. I’m truly flabbergasted on this find. Never in a million years would I have thought our killer was someone who has the social standing that Bill Anderson does. The man is a notorious brain surgeon and now it looks like he may be a notorious serial killer as well. Yes, I have to say, I never saw this one coming…

  Dr. Anderson

  “Bill, where were you last night?” Evelyn questions me as I stand at the sink and shave. My face has literally been raked over by a woman’s nails.

  “I asked you a question!”

  I turn and eye Evelyn and I revel in the upset I’m about to unleash on her. The look in her eyes clearly reveals to me she is scared. I’ve never looked at her this coldly.

  “I think that we need to call this marriage off. Have your shit packed and out of my house today or you are going to see a side of me that you have never seen. You have been warned!”

  Something about the look on my face and the tone of my voice makes her turn and leave. For once, the bitch is at a loss for words, something I have never witnessed. To put it simply, I’m scaring the fuck out of her. I can see her thoughts on her face plain as day.

  Who is this man and what has he done with my fiancé?

  Evelyn will find out soon enough that I have sides, much like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

  The question is, how am I going to explain this to my colleagues? These scratches on my face are not only going to raise serious questions, but they are going to start rumors as well.

  I’m certain the only question in Evelyn’s mind is how she ever going to live down the terrible atrocity of being dumped. To say that the honeymoon is over is an understatement. Honestly, it had never started. She is so self-centered. All of her thoughts revolve around herself and her quest for a higher social standing.

  She deserves to be humiliated. She is doing nothing but using me as a rung in her ladder of success. I hate women. They’re all selfish cunts that use unsuspecting men who have worked their asses off trying to attain something good in life.

  They’re whores just like that bitch last night. She fucks anyone she can so she can go give the money to a pimp. Why don’t these worthless bloodsuckers go get jobs like the rest of us?

  They deserve to die. They deserve to have their throats cut and be thrown in a ditch. I’m very disappointed in myself for letting that whore escape me last night. It was unavoidable though; she fought like a full grown man. I can only hope she doesn’t prove to be my demise…

  Chapter Twenty

  Black Rose

  The florist stands behind the counter and eyes me, her customer, as she speaks. I’m certain she thinks I’m just your run-of-the-mill guy buying flowers for a woman due to the way I’m dressed. I’m in ragged jeans, a t-shirt, and a baseball cap which prevents any glimpse of my eyes and most of my facial features. I also make sure that my gaze remains downcast towards the linoleum flooring.

  No one is aware I have gained the
Intel I need on the pervy necrophiliac killer to set him up. A man of means such as myself can find out anything he wants to know. It was just a matter of me scouting that dating site and finding the profile that fit. The media had let it be known that the woman killed had been on that specific dating site. I was able to go and view her friends list. Immediately, when I saw the doctor’s name and the fact he was from Louisville, I started following him on a hunch.

  I have to admit, I became angry when that fucking FBI agent started putting me in the same class as that geek and that is what spurred my search of him on. I have a method—a mandate from a higher calling—to rid the streets of scum. That guy is just nothing more than killer. He’s a killer with no vision and no purpose. Yes, I’m highly offended that Agent Turner put me in the same category as that loser.

  I have one purpose for being in this shop and that is revealing to Anderson’s fiancée that she is marrying a killer. The florist’s voice brings me out of my thoughts.

  “You do know that black roses are symbolic of more sinister things, don’t you?”

  “I am an educated man and I have no need of a mere counter girl giving me a lesson in botany. Do as I ask you to do and send the flowers to Evelyn Davis at Mercy General. I want the card to read:

  Evelyn, it is a time of rebirth. The truth is soon to be revealed, my love.

  Yours, Dr. Bill Anderson.

  “Now, do you think that you can manage that?” I sneer with an air of superiority that only the wealthy can pull off.

  The poor counter girl can barely raise her eyes to me, her difficult customer. I have achieved exactly what I set out to do. I have demeaned the poor girl and now she is a nervous wreck. She can barely look up towards me, much less directly at me. This ensures that she will not be able to recall any details, details such as what I look like.

  The fact that I have purposely picked a florist which lacks security cameras only further ensures I won’t be identified. I hurry and make my way back to my aunt’s home. After all, I have a wedding to attend.

  I make my way back to the apartment to pick up Melanie. I hand her the bouquet of black roses with the few white ones sparsely arranged throughout them. I watch as tears well up in her eyes when she reads the card.

  Though a single black rose tis his kiss of death, for her it holds no power…

  For when she doth receive, tis not a mere black rose, but a bouquet thereof.

  Love your husband, Charles…

  If she has any reservations about the black roses and the fact that a killer gives them out, but ONLY in singles, she doesn’t show it. I have always been a man who is capable of pulling off deception in order to maintain control.

  I am so good at the art that you can see me committing an offense and I will convince you that you didn’t see what you know you saw.

  To say that I am a smooth operator is an understatement. There are very few people who can see past what I’m doing and into my motive of why I’m doing it. Melanie is not one of those people. It is one of the many things that intrigued me about her. She is so innocent and yet, she is nobody’s fool. We make our way downtown.

  ***

  “Quit fidgeting, Darling, and sign the papers.”

  I smile at the justice of the peace as she eyes him. It is evident that she is nervous, but, thankfully, her nervousness is speeding up the process of me being married to my obsession so I don’t care. In other words, her nervousness is working to my benefit because, right now, she will do anything to hurry up and get out of here.

  I bend down, sign the papers, and release an inward sigh of relief. The fact that Melanie is secretly marrying me isn’t an issue. The only issue is and always has been, obtaining that which I covet—Melanie.

  This marriage ensures a couple of things. I own her now. It also ensures I have an heir in Tommy. I’m convinced a son born of my seed isn’t an option for me. He is certain to have my serial killer DNA and I can’t allow that. I have no way of being sure that he would hone the craft of killing to work for the good of the community as I have.

  My next step is to adopt him and make certain that his biological father can never reenter his life. I’m positive he would only see Tommy as a meal ticket. He has never had time for the boy before and I damn sure am not going to permit him to use my son now. Yes, everything is going as planned…

  Melanie’s voice interrupts my thoughts when we get in the car.

  “Why are you doing this? Making me marry you?”

  I lean in, grab a fistful of her hair, and jerk… hard. “Now, is that any way to start our honeymoon? Questioning my judgment?”

  She immediately looks down and I stroke her hair gently, “Good girl, such a good girl…”

  Chapter Twenty One

  Agent Turner

  In a matter of no time, I am already downtown. I swing through the drive-thru and grabbed coffee for Rene and me. I gently hand her the coffee I have ordered just the way she likes it and I’m careful not to spill it on her. Mistress is in a mood this morning and I have no intentions of being put into chastity for a week. The thought alone of being without that sweet fire crotch of hers is torture in and of itself, not to mention the discomfort of the device.

  “Come on, we are going to the doctor’s.”

  “This should be fun,” she chuckles. “It isn’t going to be a good day for Dr. Anderson.”

  “You’re such a sadist.”

  “You would do well to remember that, little boy.”

  “Only for you, Goddess, I’m your boy.”

  I sit in Dr. Bill Anderson’s office, watching Rene openly stare at him. She is intentionally intimidating him with her gaze. If he is at all like me, he will be squirming in no time under the heat of that stare. Those emerald green eyes of hers can bore a hole straight through the heart of any victim. I know all too well making him uneasy while she drinks her coffee is pure entertainment for her. I can only imagine the scuttlebutt that will ensue at the hospital water cooler over his face being so scratched up.

  “We are going to need you to come down to the station with us, Dr. Anderson.”

  “I have patients so that won’t be possible.”

  “You also have scratches on your face that corroborate a woman’s claim of you attacking her. She believes you were trying to kill her.”

  “She tried to rob me. I had to fight her off. Who are you going to believe? A doctor with a reputable career or a common street whore?”

  “I believe evidence. It doesn’t lie.”

  We both look up to view Evelyn rushing through the door and screeching, “Oh my, black roses are just beautiful and the card was just so appropriate. You know, Dear, the card about rebirth.”

  “Oh yeah, we are definitely going to need to question you downtown,” I reaffirm. “We are also going to need those roses, Ma’am.”

  Oh yeah, this is getting good…

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Black Rose

  “Some women don’t want red roses and wine, some women need black roses and knives.”

  “Be very, very still my love. This knife is sharp. You could get cut. I’m curious as to why you would question me on my choice of brides. You do realize you will be moving to my mansion, right?”

  “I am at home,” she whispers. “I’m not leaving Aunt Josephine.”

  In one swift movement, I slice through her shirt. She jumps causing me to nick her and I can feel my eyes light up as I speak only one word.

  “Blood.”

  I lower down, licking the drop of blood as I look at her out of the corner of my eye.

  My mouth crashes down on hers, violently pulling at her tongue with primal force. I manipulate her lips in an O shape, sucking and pulling. She is purposely summoning the beast to come out and play. Such a bad girl she is. She has a craving to flirt with danger. How cute… How fucking naively cute.

  My hand twists in her long, brunette locks and she pulls away from me. My teeth graze her ear as I speak in a harsh whisper, “Don�
��t fuck with me, girl, you may get more than you bargained for. I’m in the mood for blood, my love.”

  She finishes my sentence, “and I’m the only thing that sates your hunger for blood.”

  “Oh fuck yes, you do.” I tear at her clothing, cutting and ripping the material from her body. I eye her as if I want to eat her alive and, in a sense, it is true.

  I thrust my cock into her, balls deep, and she cries out, due to not being prepared. I’m certain it must hurt so fucking good.

  “Shut up, I want to fuck you. You’re mine. You’re mine, you fucking cock tease.”

  She wraps her legs around me as tightly as she can because she knows by firsthand experience, some women don’t want red roses and wine, they need black roses and knives…

  I have turned her into a wanton woman—my wanton woman. Will she sate my need for blood? No, it isn’t possible because there are too many injustices that need to be rectified by my hand.

  Her purpose isn’t to save me. Her purpose is what I make for her. Her very existence is subject to me and my whims because I now hold her life in my hands.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Dr. Anderson

  My afternoon has been a fucked up mess. After being subjected to that street whore identifying me as the man who attacked her, only to have her change her mind when she found out I would be bringing charges against her too, my whole day was wasted.