The Training of Toby (Masters of the Mansion Book 2) (9 page)

Master William

“You’re such a good girl.” He knew she was there, the place where an endorphin high lowered her defenses and penetrated the shell around her heart.

He marveled at the blood welling along the stripes he’d made caning her. It cried out to him as he spread her apart and pushed, grinding his cock into her. He slowly rotated his hips in small circles, mesmerized by her hungry, throbbing pussy and the juices that flowed from it. He reached over and flipped a switch that caused the bench to vibrate against her clit. Her whole body shook as orgasm after orgasm overtook her. He kept thrusting until he emptied himself of all the jealousy he felt about her pet loving her. He felt so conflicted. He hated the boy who was so enamored with her but that boy was also his security so she wouldn’t leave. Hating the feeling that the boy held any power, he concocted a plan to make him pay. He would solidify his domination over Mistress Diamond this weekend and he would do so in front of all those who would be attending the event. There was no way around it. Toby would suffer the hazing of Master William as long as he remained at The Mansion. Master William didn’t like feeling jealous and, more than that, he hated feeling like if he was too hard on Toby, she would leave.

For the first time in his life, his practice of BDSM had gone beyond his mental fortitude and into the vulnerable realm of his heart and emotions. Yes, he held the power by using the kid to keep her here, but he couldn’t give into the full force of jealousy that he felt and take the chance of losing her. Fuck it, it didn’t matter right now because now was the time she was fully his. Now was the time for aftercare. He released her from the restraints that held her and gently pulled her body into his arms so he could carry her up to his room. For the next few hours, they could both get lost in a world only the two of them inhabited—a place where the Master cared for his slave after a session.

Agent Turner

Agent Turner stood over the body that was lying on the cold metal table at the coroner’s. It troubled him immensely that such a young man had met his demise at the hands of a cold-blooded killer.

The coroner eyed the agents with sincerity as he spoke. Agent Turner knew by the sadness in the older gentleman’s eyes that there was something troubling him about this case.

“Your victim’s genitals were cut off. The two of you are dealing with one sick bastard. He didn’t just cut off his penis. He spent hours torturing the poor kid before the final death blow, or slice I should say. Three of his fingernails were ripped out, a common method of torture during interrogations. It looks like pliers, possibly needle nosed pliers, were used.”

Agent Turner braced himself for a visual as he watched Herb pull back the sheet. Even for a seasoned agent, what he saw horrified him.

“This is personal. It’s like he punished the boy for being Toby’s friend,” his partner said.

“No, it’s more like he was punishing him for introducing Toby to hustling.” Agent Turner answered.

“But he didn’t go through with it. He didn’t turn the trick.”

“The killer doesn’t know that. We need to talk to that john.” Agent Turner turned his attention back to the coroner. “The defensive wounds show he was attacked with a knife, perhaps to be subdued.”

My preliminary finding is that there was an initial struggle, which involved a knife. Once the boy was subdued, he was tied down with rope. These ligature marks are from hemp. There’s one on each wrist and then also down here at his ankles. Many times killers use hemp or jute—natural rope—to restrain a victim rather than rope that contains vinyl, which comes untied easily. Though this is hemp rope, it’s synthetic hemp.”

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.