The Training of Toby (Masters of the Mansion Book 2)

by Steele, Suzanne

  Agent Turner spoke, “There are benefits to going with synthetic hemp, rather than using natural hemp. It doesn’t have to be oiled, it’s water resistant, and it floats. Also, it doesn’t swell or tighten when it gets wet, it sheds significantly less, the ends can be whipped, knotted, taped, or heat sealed for any look or feel the killer desires, and, last but not least, it has a light, sweet aroma. If I didn’t know any better, I would venture to say our killer is a roper.”

  “As in the BDSM community?” the coroner asked.

  “Yes, his love of rope shows that he took great care in what he chose to bind his victim. Another thing about synthetic hemp is that it’s washable. That means any blood or epithelia can be washed away. Our boy is smart; he knows exactly what he is doing.”

  “How can you tell what kind of rope he is using?” Agent Murphy questioned.

  The coroner answered her, “The ligature marks reveal a lot. The width and the depth the rope bit into the areas where he was subdued and… the son of a bitch left a piece of it in your victim’s pocket. Your boy is purposely taunting you.”

  Agent Turner grabbed a plastic glove from his pocket to get a closer look at the rope. Herb spoke as he handed it to him, “You keep those things in your pocket?”

  “You never know when you might need one, just like right now.”

  “Do you think the fact that the rope is colored means anything?” Agent Murphy questioned her partner.

  “Yeah, means he was pissed.” Though the comment was said in an offhanded way, Agent Turner knew there might be an element of truth to the statement. “If he starts leaving a different color with each body, then yes, there’s significance to it. If it’s always red, it may still hold some meaning to him. Unfortunately, it might be a significance we never know or understand.”

  The agents turned their attention back to the coroner as he spoke again.

  “He probably strapped the victim down on a table much like this one. His penis was cut off with something like a bolt cutter, but not before the boy was tortured for hours. As if that wasn’t enough, his femoral artery was sliced with something like a scalpel. Your killer has done this before. I’d say the femoral was the final act, the death blow if you will, also known as the Coup de Grace.”

  “How do you know this isn’t his first kill?” Agent Turner questioned.

  “Too many details were spot-on. In the beginning of a serial killer’s career, there are always mistakes but the smart ones learn from them. There are no hesitation marks here. He knew exactly what he was doing. He knew where and how deep to cut to cause exsanguination. I would even go so far as to say that the guy enjoyed watching your victim bleed out. Your killer could very well have a medical background. This guy is very comfortable and knows his way around human anatomy. I’d also be willing to bet your killer didn’t cut himself like many others do when they’re stabbing or slicing up a victim. He probably wore heavy duty gloves to keep a good grip on whatever knife he was holding.”

  “You think he has a medical background? Could he be a doctor?”

  “I don’t believe he’s that skilled. I think you’re looking at a nurse, possibly a scrub nurse or a medical technician. Whoever did this purposely used a bolt cutter to remove the victim’s genitalia because he wanted a dirty kill. I believe he craved the gore and since he had to use the scalpel to get the clean cut for the femoral artery, he opted for the bolt cutter to cut the penis off. Even with a surgical grade scalpel, it would take a lot to cut a penis off, but a bolt cutter would sever right through it and provide the gore it looks like he was craving.”

  “I wonder if he’s saving them in little glass jars,” Agent Murphy said offhandedly.

  “Being that you guys didn’t find it at the scene, I would be willing to say there’s a high probability that he is.”

  Hearing that, and seeing the body up close and personal after the coroner had washed away all traces of blood and dirt, gave Agent Turner a whole new perspective on this case. Whoever was doing this was punishing his victims. Now, Agent Turner just wondered if he was punishing them because of Toby, because they were prostitutes, or both. Was he preferential to killing boys or would anyone within the BDSM community satisfy him?

  There were too many unanswered questions to make up a solid profile on this guy. Profiling was like piecing a puzzle together. The first thing they needed to do was look for cases with the same M.O. They also needed to talk to that john who had last been seen propositioning Toby.

  Some cases were the type that only time would tell who the serial killer was. Unfortunately, the bad thing about time when you’re dealing with a serial killer was, with its passing, the body count tended to rise. This guy was going to keep killing. There was something the coroner had said that had struck a chord in Agent Turner: the killer went for gore. He liked watching Allyn bleed out. In the world of kink, it was called a blood fetish. The agent knew he was looking for a man who had two kinks that were terribly dangerous when paired together. The killer was a sadist with a blood fetish and he had already proven he had no problem killing.

  In fact, by the looks of Allyn’s dead body laid out on the slab, the killer had enjoyed the torture, the blood, and the gore of it all. This guy seemed to have a nasty little craving for killing. The fact that he was going after members of the BDSM community made this personal as far as Agent Turner was concerned, so personal that it scared him a bit. He was beginning to wonder if he would be able to resist killing him when he finally did catch him. He wasn’t in the habit of being a vigilante but now that he felt so emotionally invested in this case, it made it very hard to not want to retaliate.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Killer

  The killer sat at his computer and navigated to a popular BDSM site. No one was really ever out of touch anymore; the Internet saw to that. People Toby’s age even posted status updates for what they had for lunch. It was an addiction of sorts, and one the killer would use to his advantage. This was where he had first laid eyes on Toby, so to speak. He had hoped that boy would be his first, the one to really introduce him to the lifestyle, but fate had other ideas and that wasn’t the way things played out.

  He’d tracked Toby from the first day he ran across his profile online. He was drawn to the young man’s innocence and curiosity. It was an innocence the boy had kept intact until his so called friend influenced him. Allyn met his maker for that mistake. Toby would have to be disciplined as well for giving in to his friend’s iniquitous ideas, but his innocence was still salvageable; he just needed guidance.

  Well, well, well, looks like Mistress Diamond has decided to take you under her wing. That’s pretty high up on the food chain for a boy like you. How in the world did you manage to get accepted into the upper echelon of the BDSM community? Looks like I’ll be making a trip to The Mansion this weekend.

  Part of him was pleased that Toby had somehow found his way to The Mansion because it meant that he knew where the boy was. However, another part of him knew that even though he could go, without having a membership there, getting access to the boy would be more difficult.

  The Mansion wasn’t the kind of place you could just walk in and pick someone up casually. It wasn’t like a bar where one night stands were pretty much on tap. In a bar, you could walk up to a total stranger and just because you liked what you saw, you could buy them a drink, maybe even slip them some drugs. At The Mansion, there was protocol and dealing with a Master’s or a Mistress’ ego was a fucking pain in the ass. He wouldn’t just be dealing with that bitch of a Mistress either. He’d be dealing with her asshole Master as well. Yes, the killer was all too aware of how touchy Masters and Mistresses could be and Master William and Mistress Diamond took that shit to a whole new level. When he’d visited The Mansion before on open nights, he’d witnessed the dynamic between Master William and Mistress Diamond, so he was very aware of what he’d be dealing with. He hadn’t been good enough for them to accept his application for membership; it will be very inter
esting to see what they think when they find out he’s a cold-blooded killer. They’re all going to get what they deserve for shunning him; he’d make certain of it.

  Agent Turner

  Agent Turner intently eyed his partner as he rolled his chair back away from the desk, crossed his legs at the ankles, and interlocked his fingers behind his neck.

  She was barely looking at him when she spoke, as if she didn’t want to take her attention off the task at hand. “You’re such a fucking Dom in every area of your life.”

  “Not with you,” he sheepishly answered.

  “Yeah, I wonder about that sometimes. You were never sexually submissive before me.”

  “Well, you should be flattered then. You hold a part of me I’ve never exposed to anybody else.”

  “Damn straight I do. Now, get your ass over here. I think I may have found a surveillance camera that captured footage of the unsub.”

  Agent Turner wheeled his chair over with the grace of a man who knew his way around their shared office.

  “The apartments don’t have surveillance but the liquor store across the street does. I think the guy will give us the tape, or at least let us watch it.”

  “We need to go,” Turner stated, already jumping up to leave. “Damn it! Some of these places erase those things nightly and we need that tape.”

  “I don’t think this is our guy. He looks way too drunk that night to have pulled off that intense of a kill.”

  “It doesn’t matter, Rene. You know how these cases go. One thing leads to another and we piece it together until it’s solved. This guy is not going to stop killing; he has a taste for it now. I can assure you a sadistic killer with a blood fetish is only going to continue craving more and more gore. He won’t stop until he’s caught or killed. This guy loves the horror of a bloodbath. Now that he has accomplished creating that scene and getting away with it, it’s only a matter of time before he does it again.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Toby

  Toby looked up from the top bunk where he was writing in the one journal he brought with him. He scrambled to make his way down to sit in front of the chair where Mistress Diamond had taken a seat.

  “I have a surprise for you, pet.”

  Toby watched as she reached into a bag and started removing things. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw the moleskin journal, pens, and, the biggest surprise, a top of the line computer.

  “Mistress, I honestly don’t know what to say. No one has ever given me something like this. It’s so, well, so expensive.”

  Toby immediately lowered his eyes and she took one of her manicured fingers, raised his chin, and forced him to look at her. “Toby, I believe in your writing. This doesn’t come without cost on your part. I want you to start keeping a journal about your time here.”

  “Like about my training?”

  “Your training and also your feelings, your true feelings.”

  “There are some things, well, things I don’t want him to know.”

  “Do you mean Master William?”

  Toby just nodded his head.

  She leaned in and whispered in his ear, knowing The Mansion was equipped with surveillance. “Use your safeword as your password. Do you remember what it is?”

  He leaned in and whispered, “Midnight.”

  “Very good,” she whispered back. Her face was leaned in close to his, almost nose to nose. She pulled his face towards her own with one finger and passionately kissed him.

  “Mistress, you make me feel like no one has ever made me feel before. I feel like… I love you.”

  “Those are the things that I want you to write about. I want you to document how you feel as you’re evolving on your journey into BDSM. I want you to write about your joy, the things you fear, what you love, and what you hate about your experiences here. You can add pictures or poems; there is no limit on how you can express yourself. I have had Word Perfect installed and an editing program for photography. Anything you need to express yourself is on this computer.”

  Toby leaned in to kiss the top of her shoe and his heart swelled with the words she spoke next, “You’re such a good pet, such a good boy.”

  Toby watched with longing as she rose to leave. “I want you to practice your poses so you’ll be ready for your presentation this weekend.” The look on her face became stern as she spoke, “It’s very important that you be on your best behavior this weekend. There are some very important people attending this function. There will be doctors, lawyers, and even the senator is making an appearance. Also, Toby it’s very important you realize what goes on behind these mansion walls is never to be discussed with outsiders. The people who come to The Mansion come here with the expectation and assurance of discretion. People in the outside world (vanillas) do not understand the lifestyle. Many professionals still view those who practice the lifestyle as having mental or emotional problems.”

  “My foster family kicked me out because of it. They said I was a sicko because of my interest in being dominated.”

  “Those are the types of stigmas we suffer.” He watched as she made her way to the door and stopped to look over her shoulder as if she forgot something. “The first thing you are to do is go to your profile on the BDSM site and post the pictures I sent to your e-mail of the two of us together.”

  “When did you take pictures, Mistress?”

  “You underestimate me, pet. The Mansion and the slaves in training here are always monitored with surveillance. I took stills from the video and, I must say, I’m quite pleased with the results. You may edit them to your liking and post them. I’ll not have people under the assumption that my slave isn’t owned property.

  “Yes, Ma’am.” Toby felt a surge of pride course through him. It felt good to be wanted and it felt damn good to be owned.

  Master William

  Master William’s hand claps echoed off the walls of the long hallway as he watched Diamond make her way down the corridor.

  “That little act of yours was worthy of an Emmy, slave.”

  When she tried to walk past him in an effort to ignore his sarcasm, he firmly grabbed her arm. Her attempt to jerk free from his grip resulted in him slinging her body around and slamming her into the wall. She glared at him and hissed when she spoke, trying to convey the intensity of what she was feeling, but he only chuckled.

  “If I didn’t know any better, I might think you were jealous. Perhaps you should find one of your little minions to boost that Dominant ego you possess.”

  “You’re just begging for an attitude adjustment, aren’t you, slave? Maybe some knife play is in order.” He viciously pinched down on a nipple as he continued threatening her. “A little nick here, a little cut there… You didn’t buy me anything. You bought that fucking pet of yours something though, didn’t you?”

  “I did buy you something.”

  He leaned in to growl in her ear, “Show me, and if you’re fucking lying to me…”

  He pinched down on her nipple and watched in intrigue as one single tear rolled down her defiant face. He leaned in to lick it off before the vice grip he held her in with his other hand tightened and he half dragged her up the stairs and into her bedroom.

  “So, you’re not lying,” he stated after they entered the room and he saw the black roses with the note and the small box that held the cufflinks. He picked up the card and flicked it between two fingers as he skeptically eyed her and read it aloud:

  To the only man who gives me the black roses and knives I need to sate my midnight, full-mooned soul.

  Siempre’ Fiel, Esclave.

  He leaned in and whispered in her ear as he unbuttoned her skirt, “Yes, forever faithful.” He eyed her like he was daring her to deny him what he was getting ready to do. First, the skirt she wore fell to her feet. Then, his thumbs hooked the sides of her G-string and pulled it down past her knees to her ankles. He licked his lips as he watched her kick them off to the side and then he pushed her down, forcing her to
sit on the bed, while he positioned himself to kneel between her splayed legs.

  “Hook your legs over my shoulders, slave, I want to taste that sweet pussy of yours.” His hands clamped at her hips and pulled her down where he could dine on her essence.

  “Oh fuck, Master.” Her mews began immediately as she surrendered to his tongue lapping over her core.

  He took a moment to speak between flicks of his tongue over her clit. “No, baby, no fucking, just your Master dining on what’s his.”

  He dipped his tongue into her opening and fucked her with it as he purposely nipped at her clit, pushing her deeper into his seduction. He replaced his tongue with two fingers and pumped into her, pulling them back in his direction until her hips were rocking and gaining more momentum with each thrust.

  “Oh fuck, I’ll do anything. Please let me come.”

  His only reply was pulsing his full lips, creating suction over her clit that he knew would send her over the edge. He left her lying in a heap of post-orgasmic bliss.

  He made his way towards the door to leave but not before he took the vase of black roses, along with the note and cufflinks. He would treasure the gifts she gave him today, just like he had every other gift she’d ever given him.

  Not one note was left unfiled, every bouquet had a flower that had been dried out between the leaves of a book, and each gift was treasured more than the last. He had a trunk in his bedroom that locked. It was dedicated to his beloved esclave and contained every memory they had ever made together. He loved his slave and she loved him… on their terms.

  Master William

  Master William walked down the stairs and through a long corridor that led him to a dead end. He removed the set of keys from one of his riding pants pockets and opened the large door that looked more like it belonged in an ancient castle than a mansion for the rich and elite.

  Immediately upon opening the door, the ambiance changed to one of darkened intrigue. It was the hint of the forbidden that drew Masters and Mistresses into its web, promising to sate their craving for kink.