The Training of Toby (Masters of the Mansion Book 2) (15 page)

The Killer

The killer made his way around the outskirts of the room, eyeing the various demonstrations until he stopped where the ropers, Jute and Hempster, were working. Perfect timing and never removing his eyes from the crowd enabled him to maneuver a bag over in his direction where he discreetly nudged it around a corner. Out of sight, he placed the strap over his shoulder and quietly made his way out the door without anyone noticing.

He walked quickly to his vehicle and tossed the bag into the trunk of his car. He was tired of being looked down upon by these fucking self-proclaimed BDSM superstars. When he finished with them, they would all know who he was and he was going to make sure they regretted ignoring him. He’d make sure of that.

They were going to see that he had the power to fuck their lives up beyond anything they could ever imagine. He was tempted to frame them for the next murder he planned to commit, but his ego wouldn’t allow it. They would, however, be aware of the fact that he could get close to them without their knowledge; that would warrant their respect.

When they realized he’d been right under their noses, close enough to steal their gear, they’d cringe. Everyone in the community would be wondering who was next on his hit list. They’d talk about him at their sacred little munches. His name would be on the tips of their tongues. He would be the dark shadow lingering in their collective subconscious.

All of the high and mighty Masters and Doms who prided themselves on getting into people’s heads, on being the masters of the mind-fucks they so enjoyed inflicting on their subs, all of them would be in fear of him. When it was all said and done, he would be the ultimate master of the mind-fuck.

In the end, he would be the one with all the power. He would be the one in control and in charge. Their lives would revolve around him as they mandated to their subs and slaves that they could no longer go out in public unattended. Their lives would be ruled by fear, fear of him getting his hands on them and wrenching their worthless lives away.

They were all going to be subservient to him as they walked around in fear he directed with blood stained hands. The thought of bloodstained hands gave him an idea, a very dark and sinister idea. This next kill was going to be a very enjoyable one.

Toby

Toby woke up feeling as if he was being watched. His eyes instinctively darted over to the chair where Master William was sitting. He listened as his voice cut through the air with an authority that only a true Master or Dom possessed.

“I’m a hard man, but not a man who is unable to bond with my slaves. I take it personally when an outsider threatens one of my own. You belong to me now, Toby, and I take matters of possession very seriously. You may talk openly, boy. Say what’s on your mind.”

“Master,” Toby noted a sinister grin cross the man’s face who was eyeing him with his piercing blue gaze. “Sir, I, uh, I’m not gay.”

A hearty laughter rang through the air and Toby was shocked. He hadn’t ever thought Master William capable of levity or considered him to be even remotely relatable and the laughter made him seem, well… human.

“Boy, you have so much to learn. BDSM goes far beyond sex.” The Master’s gaze was menacing as he continued to speak. “I enjoy control and the idea of controlling you through the hands of your Mistress intrigues me. Did you enjoy yourself last night?”

Toby looked down, feeling a little embarrassed because the whole scene had turned him on and he didn’t yet understand why.

“Yes, Sir, I just don’t understand why.”

Toby watched as Master William leaned in as if to emphasize what he was about to say. “Being controlled turns you on. I can offer you safety and I can offer you a long-term relationship with not only your Mistress, but with me as your owner. You, as the sub, hold the power. Are you going to give me ownership of you, allow me to protect you, and allow me to show you things about yourself that you never knew existed?”

Toby knew that he wanted what Master William was offering and he scrambled from the bed before he had the chance to change his mind. He knelt down in front of Master William and felt proud, something he had never felt with anyone but his Mistress, when he heard Master William’s next words.

“Good boy, such a very good boy…”

The Killer

The killer watched as Jute quickly made his way down the outside steps leading up to his apartment. He was well aware of how ropers felt about their gear; it was literally an extension of themselves. He knew that, by now, the poor guy was probably baffled by the fact that his bag of gear had just seemingly disappeared. Knowing the guy was probably going out of his mind, wondering who would do something like this to him, was an aphrodisiac for the killer. He was no different than the Dominants he hated so deeply in that he enjoyed a good mind-fuck. Knowing he’d been the cause of the man’s stress was similar to the high he got from killing. The preparation, the mind-fuck, and the confusion and fear he caused his victims, was absolutely delicious to a depraved man like him.

He’d been sitting in the parking lot for over an hour and he wasn’t about to pass up the chance to bring his plan to pass. This guy was hardly ever alone and if he was going to make his move, it was now or never. He exited his car and made his way over to the young man.

“Hey, I think I may have accidently picked up your gear last night.”

The killer could see the wave of relief wash over the man’s face at the thought of getting his bag back. With no hesitation or apprehension whatsoever, Jute followed a serial killer over to his car and watched him as he opened the trunk. The killer made certain he never saw the syringe. It held a potent drug that would render his victim helpless. He couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the prick and the sting of its contents go into his system. In a matter of seconds, a full grown man was rendered compliant and everything was going as planned.

The killer pulled the victim into the backseat of his car. It was getting too difficult to abduct victims in the luxury sedan; it was time to upgrade to a van. He rather liked the idea of having a van and setting it up in a sinister fashion. He could already envision various contraptions that would enable it to service him in all his malevolent desires.

He could hear the man stirring in the backseat. Even though he knew the man was drugged, he pressed down on the car’s accelerator to hasten their arrival to their destination—the warehouse district in a Portland neighborhood.

He navigated through the neighborhood that had, at one time, been just a typical, American, middle class area. Those days were long gone now that the huffers and drug dealers had taken over the area. It used to house local entrepreneurs who ran small corner stores providing for the everyday needs of the community. Now, it was overrun with teens, standing on street corners and breathing the toxic fumes of paint through dirty rags clutched in their hands.

The summer before, one of the long-term neighbors, who had refused to leave his home despite the influx of delinquents, killed one of the boys when he had broken into his home. No charges were filed and, for a while, it had kept the paint heads at bay. Before long, though, they returned to resume their antics, breaking and entering in search of money to buy the chemicals their bodies craved.

The killer pulled behind the warehouse that contained his implements of torture and got out of the car to open the garage type door. The thought that he needed to install an automatic door crossed his mind and he filed it away in his mental to-do list. He quickly ran back to the car and opened the back door to pull out the heavy, drugged body. His victim fell onto the concrete with a sickening thud.

He half carried, half dragged Jute, who was still incoherent from the drugs running through his system. Yes, he was in desperate need of a more accommodating vehicle. No self-respecting serial killer should have to endure this much unnecessary struggle. The drugs in the man’s system were making him much more of an inconvenience; he was dealing with dead weight.

Finally, after struggling for what felt like fifteen minutes, he was able to get the man in the building and on the adjustable table. This was one of those times he was grateful for the adjustable mechanism. Up until now, he had dealt with mostly women. This guy was large. He was certain it came in handy for a man in the business of roping but, right now, it was wreaking havoc with his muscles. It had taken all he had to subdue the man and get him restrained. He took a moment and sat down in a chair he had in the large warehouse room, trying to steady his breathing and thinking about what possible avenues of recourse he wanted to take next.