The Training of Toby (Masters of the Mansion Book 2) (12 page)

The Killer

Though the Internet contained a plethora of potential victims for a killer, there was a place that provided even more—the strip. The area, known by the Louisville, Kentucky residents as
the strip
, was located on 7
th
St. and it had mile after mile of strip clubs and hookers. Though picking up a girl off the street and getting her into his car would be no real challenge, he was in the mood for one. In his mind, it didn’t matter if the victim who met their demise was male or female. No, it was all about the blood. The only reason he had become so fixated on Toby was because of the boy’s innocence. He wanted to protect him from the vile things that happened on the streets.

Though he was a hunter by nature and was inclined to bouts of stalking, he didn’t fit the profile of a stalker. He did, however, fit the profile of a sexual deviant and he most certainly fit the profile of a serial killer.

He enjoyed the hunt. Well, he enjoyed hunting humans. For a while, he’d even tossed around the idea of releasing a captive and hunting them down for the final kill but had determined it was much more productive to have a victim tied to a slab and slowly work them over. Still, visions of cutting a victim loose in the deep woods at dusk did tempt him sometimes. The only thing that stopped him was the probability of them getting away. To a man who craved the scent of death like he did, there would be no greater torment than to have a victim so close to the final kill and then losing him. No, he needed the security of knowing his victim would follow through by offering their blood on the altar of his metal slab.

He purposely pulled into one of the seedier establishments. The higher end strip clubs tended to keep a closer eye on the dancers and their outside activities. Security, in the form of professional bouncers and surveillance in the clubs and parking lots, was common. It was always much easier to woo a woman who worked in a dive. Many times, they were the ones who had aged out or had issues with drugs, which meant they were more desperate for money and much more inclined to meet with him after closing hours. Though he was in the mood for a challenge tonight, he knew his limitations.

The loud music reverberated off the establishment’s walls and hit him full-force, as did the need to stop and take a moment to adjust to the dim lighting upon entering the club.

He waited a moment before he made his way from the hallway and into the main area. When he did, he noted that it held three different stages. Each stage had its own dancer, grinding up and down the pole centered on a raised platform. He took a moment to study his surroundings and pulled the baseball cap down further over his eyes. To the unsuspecting observer, he looked like any other middle class, blue collar, working man wanting to blow off the stress accumulated during the day.

He eyed a corner booth hidden in the shadows and headed over, knowing it would only be a matter of moments before he would be approached by one of the women for a lap dance. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before he was sought out and it was by a woman with a bad bleach job, too much make-up, and slutty clothes that were anything but sexy.

He was in the process of sending her away when something she said changed his mind.

“Hey, I know you. You were at the clinic where I came to get my blood testing done for the month.”

Many of the clubs demanded the women were tested monthly and evidently this was one of them. He hadn’t thought about that when he chose to come in tonight; he just assumed that a dive like this wouldn’t have scruples when it came to STDs. Though his first reaction was to consider leaving, his second thought was to use this knowledge to his advantage.

“Well, I hope you came back clean because I’m ready to party.”

“Oh really, and what did you have in mind?”

He pulled a hundred dollar bill from his pocket and spoke, “Well, we can start with this. If you’re a good girl, I might be inclined to add four more to it but you’d have to be willing to spend the night with me. Let’s just say that I’m lonely. I just went through a divorce and I need a warm body next to me.”

“Baby, for five hundred dollars, I can give you a hell of a lot more than a warm body.”

“I just bet you can. I think I might just take you up on that.”

Master William

Master William sat at his desk and watched the computer screen, listening to his slave as she spoke to the boy she was training.

His slave was smart. There was no doubt about that. It was one of the things that had initially drawn him to the girl. She was multidimensional, just like the lifestyle they lived. There was so much more to Mistress Diamond than what could be seen on the surface.

On the surface, she was a confident, well dressed, and in control Mistress, but peel back those layers and, my, oh my, there was so much more to the woman.

It took a hell of a lot of insight to see into the BDSM dynamics the way she just had. Even he hadn’t thought about what she had just voiced to the boy. He
was
responsible for him through her ownership. In some odd sort of way, listening to her voice the hierarchy of their triangular relationship, put everything in a whole new perspective for him. He was responsible for the boy’s safety and wellbeing.

Though he still wasn’t allowing the boy to fuck her, maybe it was time to include him in some of their bedroom activities as a form of training.

What many Doms didn’t understand, due to their egos, was that, at times, the teacher learns from the student. This was definitely one such case. It suddenly dawned on him that he had no reason to be jealous. Perhaps taking Toby under his wing would be beneficial. If the boy bonded to the both of them, it would only solidify the woman he loved staying at The Mansion.

Maybe he had been looking at things the wrong way. There were many people in the lifestyle who were bonded to more than one person. It was one of the things that made the lifestyle so unique; the ties that bound were different for each and every unit.

Suddenly, he felt himself doing something that he hadn’t done since the day he met Diamond. He was softening up to the idea of owning another slave. It would be much easier to see his slave interacting with the boy if he was the one issuing the mandates. Now, the only problem was if he had driven the boy too far away from him.

It might take some manipulation on his part but he was up for the challenge. After all, he was not just a Master; he was a master of the mind-fuck. Yes, perhaps it was time to put his skills to use for the greater good of them all.

The Killer

Stupid bitch followed a complete stranger home. Well, that’s not a hundred percent true. She knew where he worked so it wasn’t like he was a complete stranger but now there was the issue of her being able to identify him. He couldn’t very well let her live now, could he? Before she died, he wanted to have some fun though.

“Why are you doing this? What do you want from me? I’ll fuck you, I’ll suck your cock, I’ll do anything… just, please, don’t hurt me.”

“You’re asking a sadistic serial killer with a blood fetish to not hurt you? How fucking ironic!” He sneered at the tacky woman subdued to his medical table.

He watched her eyes fly open when he reached for a very long, very large meat skewer. He relished in the confusion etched on her face. He understood all too well that to an unsuspecting person, who hadn’t been subjected to the BDSM lifestyle, the imagination went wild at the sight of something so ominous.

He wondered what was going through her head right now. Was she wondering if he was going to stab her or fuck her with it? He guessed she thought he was going to stab her and she was right, in a sense.

The first thing he wanted to do was shut her the fuck up and that meant gagging her with it. He had seen it done at the club and he knew he could do it, though he wouldn’t have to worry about sanitizing the skewer or the area he was going to pierce. Sanitizing was done for the purpose of avoiding infection and dead people didn’t have to be concerned with trivial things like that.

He was glad for the soundproofing he’d gotten done down in the basement of his middle class home, in his middle class neighborhood. He had two different locations that he worked out of and he decided not to take her to his warehouse because he didn’t want to raise suspicion. He’d told her he was paying her to spend the night with him so going to his home would’ve seemed perfectly normal but going to a warehouse probably would’ve gotten her guard up. There was no sense in stressing the poor girl out before he revealed his true motives.

Her screams were so loud he couldn’t hear his own thoughts. He swung back, crashed his fist down on her face, and, much to his pleasure, the blow knocked her unconscious. Now, finally, he could work.

This was the only time he wasn’t menial, that he didn’t feel like some mediocre being. When a victim was under his control, he was almighty. He held the power of life and death in his hands and they acknowledged it. They begged, bargained, and pleaded for mercy but as a sexual sadist bent on drawing blood, he could offer them none, only redemption through death.

It was time to get to work, now, before she woke from the blow to her jaw. He placed his fingers in her mouth and pulled her cheek away from her teeth to pierce the sharp skewer through the meaty flesh. Screams informed him she’d regained consciousness. The Laerdal Stifneck cervical collar he’d rigged up on the steel surgical table, along with a wide Velcro strap that went over her forehead, completely immobilized her.

He could raise and lower each end of the table and the fact that it was steel made for easy clean up. There was also a drain built into the flooring so he could just douse everything in bleach and hose it down, washing away all blood evidence. Years of experience enabled him to tweak his methods, reducing the mayhem to his madness. Mistakes with previous victims made him hone his craft. He knew all killers didn’t learn from their mistakes but he was smart; he did.

He continued to push the skewer until it pressed through her opposite cheek. It was bent in the middle so it would press down on her tongue and shut her the fuck up. Finally, her screams morphed into muffled umphs, groans, and whimpers. Now, he could work in relative peace.

He pinched one of her eyebrows with two of his gloved fingers, pushed another skewer through, and then pierced her skin again through a fatty part of her cheek. The action made her eye close, though he couldn’t tell if it was from the skewer or from the dripping blood that blinded her. Either way was fine with him. Without her sight, her senses would be heightened. She would feel the pain, the pleasure, and the fear so much more.

He pushed her bound legs back with the sliding straps he had rigged up on the sides of the table so that they were up by her shoulders. Her legs were spread open and splayed beautifully. She couldn’t see what he was doing when he grabbed a vibrator, put it on the lowest setting, and placed it against her clit. Her pain filled grunts quickly turned to pleasure filled mews. He stroked his cock as he watched her body betray her at the hand of a full-blown, sadistic, serial killer.

“You are as fucked up in the head as I am. You’re going to come for a depraved maniac and you can’t do a damn thing to stop it.” He stroked his cock as he watched her pussy twitch and her body buck as much as her restraints allowed when she came over and over again. It wasn’t until he tossed the vibrator to the side and grabbed the scalpel to slice through her femoral artery, located on her upper inner thigh, that come shot from his body in a violent release. Now, there was just the issue of disposing of the body and cleaning up. His craving for blood was sated… for now.