The Training of Toby (Masters of the Mansion Book 2) (16 page)

Master William

Master William sat at his desk, twirling one of the cufflinks his slave had purchased for him between two fingers as he let his mind wander. Though he had chosen to take on the responsibility of Toby’s ownership, he hadn’t expected the boy to respond so favorably. The way Toby had looked into his eyes, while Diamond sucked his cock, clearly revealed the boy’s intrigue with the new dynamic.

This could actually work out quite well because even though Toby didn’t have bisexual tendencies, he did have the need for an older, stronger, male figure in his life. Master William presumed there were probably daddy issues in his past. Mistress Diamond had filled him in that he never had a true family, only foster care. She’d revealed that even though the last family had seemed stable, they’d proved their lack of loyalty as soon as they saw the websites Toby was visiting. Most vanillas freaked out when they saw a woman being bound and fucked or a boy kneeling at a Mistress’ feet, licking her boots. At worst, they considered the guilty party to have mental problems. At best, they saw the lifestyle as nothing more than depraved porn.

The agents told him that when they dropped Toby off at The Mansion, they felt like the boy was so confused about his sexuality and his desires that he was a danger to himself. In his lifetime, Master William had seen too many instances in which subs were so riddled with guilt and shame over their perceived sexual deviance that they had to be brought back from the brink of a breakdown. Toby was safest here not just for his physical wellbeing, but for his mental and emotional health as well. Here, he would learn that he was born kinky. It was just how he was wired and there was no reason for him to feel ashamed. If people had a problem with kink, it was their problem, not the kinkster’s problem. The Mansion was supposed to be a haven of sorts, and Master William had already set his mind on providing that haven for Toby. He would let his slave keep the boy as her pet. For him, it always boiled down to Mistress Diamond and her needs. If she cared about the boy, then he did too.

The ringing of the phone pulled him from his thoughts.

“Master William speaking.”

“Master William, Jute is missing.”

“Perhaps he’s out running errands or something, Hempster,” he replied, recognizing the man’s voice despite the panicked tone.

“No, I know my partner and he always answers my calls.”

“When did you last talk to him?”

“It was last night. I called to make sure he got home okay. He was upset when he left The Mansion because someone picked up his bag. I told him it was probably just a mistake but now that he’s missing, it has me wondering. What if something terrible has happened? Last night was open night and anyone could have been there. You know what kind of people the lifestyle can draw.”

Master William noticed the more Hempster talked, the more upset he became. No good would come from sharing the agents’ news he received last night about a serial killer being on the loose. Right now, the best thing he could do is the very thing he did best. He needed to take control of the situation and get the man on the other end of the line to calm down.

“I’m sure he is fine. Keep trying to call him and I’ll see what I can do on this end. I have a couple of friends on the force. I’ll talk to them and see if I can pull some strings there. Hempster…” he took a moment to allow what he had said up to this point sink in before he continued, “…the most important thing is for you to keep your head about you. You need to be strong for your Dom. Jute wouldn’t want you so stressed. No matter what’s going on with him, he would hate to know how much you’re freaking out right now.”

“You’re right. I know you’re right. I’ll call you back when I hear something.”

“Okay, and like I said, I’ll make some calls on this end. We’re going to find him.”

Master William hung up the phone feeling much less confident about Jute’s safety than he led Hempster to believe. If the man wasn’t truly missing, there was still the issue of someone picking up his gear. In his world, that was un-fucking-acceptable. It had better be just an innocent mishap. Hopefully, someone just mistakenly picked up the wrong bag and would soon right the wrong or, God help him, heads were going to roll.

Agent Turner

Agent Turner answered Master William’s call as he eyed his partner from his office chair. The news wasn’t good. He listened as the Master explained that Jute had gone missing and how his sub, Hempster, was pretty much on the verge of a panic attack.

“I’m going to be honest with you; this doesn’t look good. Those two are never separated. I’m shocked they aren’t living together by now with as much as they have going on with each other. You said someone stole his gear bag last night?” he questioned.

“I’d really like to believe that someone picked it up by mistake, but with it being open night, I’m more inclined to believe it was stolen. I hate these fucking open nights and I really don’t see any need to have them. When Master Richard and I first thought of them, it was to make The Mansion more accessible to newbies interested in learning. With the massive influx of wannabes, I’m disposed to rethink that notion. Stealing is unacceptable.”

“If this is our serial killer you’re dealing with, there is going to be a hell of a lot more going on that you won’t find acceptable.”

“I don’t even want to think about a member of The Mansion being hurt, much less killed. Do you know what kind of taint this will put on the community? My first concern is that of the man’s safety but I’m not even going to try and act like there won’t be damage control issues if the serial killer has him. If he does, he was inside The Mansion last night. The public already has terrible misconceptions about the community. Something like this would make it look like we house serial killers and mentally unstable people. This is a shit storm.”

“I’m going to need the guest list. Let’s just keep this under wraps and go from there.”

“Please call me as soon as you find out anything. I’m e-mailing the guest list now.”

With that, Agent Turner hung up with only one purpose in mind. He needed to catch this serial killer before he killed again.

The Killer

The killer sat in a chair and eyed the victim as his eyes fluttered open. This was the first time he could ever remember having the thought cross his mind that it might be to his advantage to keep a victim alive.

Quite possibly, this was the best way to send a message to those pompous asses at The Mansion. If he killed Jute, it would be over. Yes, they would talk about him in hushed, fear-filled whispers, but he didn’t just want that; he wanted them to listen. He’d always wanted to be noticed but what he really wanted was to be heard. Talking about him was one thing, but listening to him gave him the power he deserved and had never been able to attain. Yes, keeping him alive would serve a dual purpose.

“Where am I? Who are you?” Jute spoke in a drugged slur.

The killer watched as his victim thrashed around as much as his restraints would allow. He resisted the urge to answer, knowing his silence would instill more fear.

“What do you want? Why am I here?”

The killer rose and stood over Jute. He looked down on him and studied him as a predator does his prey. “Are you and Hempster lovers?”

“We’re partners.”

The smack came with lightning speed and connected with the bound man’s face. He smiled when a lone tear trickled down Jute’s smooth cheek. “When I ask you a question, I expect an honest answer. “Are. The. Two. Of. You. Lovers?”

“Yes,” he replied. The killer watched as Jute sighed as if resigning himself to the fact.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Are you just now coming to grips with your feelings?”

“My parents won’t even speak to me, yet my sister can do no wrong. I’ve won awards, been featured in popular magazines, and have even done mainstream TV interviews but my own family won’t acknowledge me. They keep telling me that if I leave the lifestyle, they’ll treat me like family, but if I don’t, we’ll remain estranged. I expected my dad to understand. I mean, hell, he’s a fucking Dom too but he told me that I was supposed to keep it quiet. The minute my roping skills gained notoriety, he freaked out about how it would affect his political image. I thought he’d be proud. I’m a famous Dom, a renowned roper, but he’s ashamed of me. And now… I’ve finally found Hempster, a sub that makes me happy and is willing to share his life with me. How am I supposed to deny who I am?”

Finally, the killer felt important. Finally, he felt as if someone in the community was seeing him as if he was a part of the brotherhood. Maybe this was the answer. Even though it was a forced meeting of the minds, they were still bonding. Here was a man looking to him for advice, for help with his family problems. He was actually talking to him like he was looking to him for counsel in his time of need. The killer knew how it felt to be rejected, outcast, or even loathed at times.

He began to speak as if his prisoner wasn’t even in the room, more of a reflection of sorts.

“You know they rejected me—the community. What are you supposed to do when it’s not only your family that rejects you, but the community you turn to for refuge as well? You, at least, have the people at The Mansion. I have had no one, until now… Now, I have you.”