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

  He didn’t answer. He just silently made a three point turn and started heading to Toby’s address. If he was the last person to see Allyn last night, then he was the one most likely to give them the answers they needed.

  Two blocks of strained silence later, they pulled into the parking lot of a dilapidated downtown apartment building located at 2nd and Magnolia. Though the neighborhood was a mixture of refurbished historical houses and rundown apartments, the polar opposite population seemed to dwell together in a harmony redolent of ever changing neighborhoods. Neighborhoods here were like many big cities in that they changed from block to block.

  “I can’t help it. That guy bugs me.” Agent Turner spoke in a meek tone, eyeing her through his long, dark lashes.

  “Such a good boy,” she crooned, rubbing her hand over the top of his thigh.

  They exited the car and made their way into the poorly lit hallway. Though the sun shined brightly outside, there was nothing sunny or inviting about the building they just entered. Whether it was the soiled light fixtures that hung on the graffiti riddled walls, the fact that there were no windows, or the low wattage bulbs placed sporadically throughout the building by a landlord who had quit caring about upkeep years ago, the lighting was dim at best.

  Toby

  The knock on the door pulled Toby from his fitful slumber. He had gone to sleep with one eye open, certain his attacker would return.

  Fuck, what if it was that drunk from the night before beating on his door?

  He cautiously tiptoed to the door and looked through the peephole. To his surprise, instead of the drunken asshole, he saw two cops, identifying themselves with their badges presented. He unlocked the door but left the chain attached, as if it would him offer some kind of protection if they weren’t who they said they were. He highly doubted that was the case though. Years of being on the streets had taught him how to spot law enforcement and these two were definitely just that… cops.

  “What can I help you with?”

  “We need to talk. A dead body was found this morning and you were the last person to be seen with him,” the tall man standing at his door informed him. Toby eyed the couple in the standard black suits with white shirts and instinctively knew that they were officers from a higher bracket than he was accustomed to seeing on the streets. Most of the undercover police in this neighborhood were either detectives or undercover drug agents. These two cops didn’t fit the bill for either of those positions.

  “Allyn?” It was enough to make Toby open the door and allow them entrance into his small apartment. Now that he got a closer look at their badges, his suspicions were confirmed. These two were FBI and, fuck, now he was scared.

  Toby moved the clothing, that had been washed, folded, and placed in a laundry basket from his last trip to the Laundromat, in an effort to offer a seat to the agents on his worn out couch.

  “He’s dead? Allyn’s dead? What happened?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to find out.”

  Toby eyed the man talking to him and the serious expression on the guy’s face made him realize he could be in trouble, a lot of fucking trouble. As if on cue, he began filling the agent in on the night before.

  “I’m getting kicked out of here in two days; I can’t pay my rent. Allyn was showing me the ropes on how to hustle. I went so far as to pick up a date and then I couldn’t go through with it. The last time I saw Allyn was after I got in the john’s car.”

  “What kind of car?”

  “A newer black Cadillac. Do you think he could have gone back and killed Allyn after I backed out on the date with him?”

  Agent Turner continued asking questions, ignoring Toby’s query.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “We pulled up in the parking lot and I told him I just couldn’t do it. He got really angry and grabbed my arm. I had to struggle to get out of the car and he followed me into the building. The guy was so drunk that I thought he was going to fall down the steps. I barely got into my apartment safely. I thought he might come back after me, but I never thought he would go after Allyn.”

  Up until this point, the man had been doing all the talking and his partner was just walking around, taking in the sights of his small apartment. Toby looked up in embarrassment when he realized the female agent was looking at his pictures of bondage that were hanging on the wall. Mistresses, with male subs bowed at their feet, and men tied in various positions were the predominate theme. The familiar wave of shame, that he had come to know all too well, settled over him just like it did when he was found out.

  He could feel his heart quicken and his cock jump as the woman’s green eyed stare cut through him like she could see all of his secrets.

  “I need to know about these.” She pointed to the various pictures that he’d cut out of magazines or copied from the Internet and then pinned to the wall with tacks.

  “Well, it’s what got me kicked out of my last foster family’s house. It’s what makes me think I’m crazy or fucked up in the head. It’s what plagues my thoughts and it’s what consumes my Internet time.” His tone was that of a young man exasperated with trying to figure out his sexuality. Even at his young age, Toby was worn out by the shame that came with trying to explain his desires to those who didn’t understand and judged him when they found out his bent towards kink. He had been labeled everything from sick to crazy.

  Toby noted that the agent who had been talking to him was now looking back and forth between him and his partner like he had lost control of the line of questioning. This wasn’t how a police interrogation was supposed to go; even Toby knew that much. He watched as the female agent approached him from where she’d been studying his pictures. She looked at him with kind eyes and gently took his hand.

  “Sweetheart, your life could be in danger and we aren’t dismissing anything at this early stage in the case. This could go far deeper than a disgruntled john. Excuse us one moment.” She hesitated another second, looking at him and holding his hand in a maternal manner. Her hand felt warm and her eyes held compassion. He felt like if he wasn’t careful, he would start to cry. It had been years since anyone had looked at him like this woman was—with compassion. Most of the time, people looked at him with contempt, like he was some loser or freak of nature.

  Toby watched as the agents huddled in a secluded corner and spoke in hushed whispers. Though the questioning had veered off what he assumed was the normal path for a murder case, he was relieved they weren’t handcuffing him and hauling him downtown… yet.

  Agent Turner

  Agent Turner eyed his partner warily as she spoke. If he didn’t know any better, he might think that his Mistress/partner had a heart. He’d never known her to want to rescue anyone, much less some kid she had only talked to for fifteen minutes. She began explaining, as if she knew what he was thinking.

  “He’s not a kid, David. He’s a twenty-one year old young man who needs our help. If we don’t help him, he’s going to be forced to hustle on the streets. Worse yet, he could very well be the target of a serial killer.”

  “We don’t know we’re dealing with a serial killer. Toby could be the fucking killer as far as we know, Rene.”

  “Oh please, the kid slept in his clothing from last night, probably scared of that john coming back, and there isn’t a drop of blood on him. You know that boy is no killer.”

  “So, your answer to that is sending him to The Mansion, a BDSM mansion, no less?”

  “Look, I’ve been doing this a long time and I know how to spot a sub. That kid has got sub written all over him.”

  “We work for the FBI. Our jobs are high profile and being outed could very well mean the loss of our jobs. If this kid runs his mouth, it could mean major problems for us professionally.”

  “There are a lot of people who are high profile at The Mansion, David. It doesn’t get any more secretive or discreet than there. Master Richard is accustomed to dealing with professionals. You’d be shocked how many promine
nt people are in the lifestyle. We need to help this kid before he kills himself or someone else kills him.”

  “Alright, Rene, I trust you. Let’s get the kid packed and get him to The Mansion. Bowling Green, Kentucky is only a hundred miles away so it won’t be that big of a deal getting him there. I hope this kid agrees to what you have planned for him.”

  “I’m sure he will… Right now, anything is better than 4th and Magnolia.”

  David cut his eyes at her as he spoke, “If you were anyone but my Mistress, I would never agree to this.”

  The look on her face clearly let him know that he had said enough. “But I am your Mistress and you would do well to remember that fact, David.”

  He changed the subject because pissing off his Mistress meant discipline later this evening and his ass was still sore from last night’s brutal lashing.

  “Make the call and let the Masters of The Mansion know that we’re on our way,” he muttered half-heartedly.

  His cock stiffened as she uttered the words he lived to hear, “Good boy, you’re such a dear, good boy.”

  Chapter Two

  Master William

  Master William picked up the phone and enjoyed the surge of adrenaline that coursed through his veins with his excitement. Finally, the one woman who he had ever come anywhere close to falling in love with was coming back to The Mansion where she belonged. She was his property and the fact that she resisted him at every turn, excited him like none other. She is going to hate doing what I’m about to command her to do but she’ll do it… or suffer the consequences.

  Diamond picked up the phone and answered in an irritated tone, “What?!”

  “Esclave, is that any way to address your Master?”

  He heard her take a deep breath, as if trying to alleviate the frustration his call incited. He ignored it and continued talking, “Don’t even think about lying to me and telling me you didn’t know it was me. Now, be a good girl and get your ass to The Mansion. Oh, and pack a bag because you’ll be here for a while.” He hung the phone up and let his mind drift back to better days.

  She hung from the dungeon rafter, fatigued from the beating he had just given her. He made his way over to her and jerked her head up from her chest by a handful of hair. A faint smile crossed her lips due to the endorphins that now flooded her system. Nobody could take an ass whipping like his little esclave.

  “How dare you tell me that you don’t want to be here! What part of ‘you’re my slave’ don’t you get? There are slaves who would die to be in your position, to be owned by me. You’re ungrateful, little slave.”

  A hoarse laugh escaped her lips as she hissed in his direction, “Fuck you. If you want a docile slave, then, by all means, go and get one.”

  Her head jerked to the side when his slap connected with her cheek but she only laughed at him. Oh, she did love to stir him up.

  “I think I will fuck you, esclave.”

  He released her from the chain, roughly tossing her onto the large dungeon bed that dominated the room where they played. She scooted back against the headboard in an attempt to escape his wrath. That was so typical of her nature. She loved to get him riled up and then try to flee his grasp. This time, though, there would be no escaping him. He wanted her like he’d never wanted another and since he was all about consensual non-con, she didn’t have a fucking choice. The woman loved being taken and he loved taking her. There were times their non-consensual sex play crossed the line into full blown rape fantasy and they both loved it, in all its viciousness.

  He yanked her to the end of the bed by her ankles and placed her legs over his shoulders.

  “Please don’t hurt me,” she moaned, weary from the fight.

  “Too fucking late, esclave.” His fingers dipped into her folds. “Your pussy drips for the torment I give you and, still, you fight me.” He slipped two of his fingers into her, proving his point, and her hips rocked up to seek more contact.

  “You’re right. Please fuck me.”

  “Is that any way to ask for the cock you crave?”

  “Master…”

  “That’s better. Sooner or later, you’re going to have to stop running from your truth. You. Belong. To. Me.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “That’s much better. You’re still a fucking liar though. We both know you’ll have to be broken down again the next time. It’s always the same with you, my little fighter.” He scooted her towards him, plunging deep into her pussy—his pussy by rights of ownership. Her legs draped over his shoulders as he started fucking her with hard thrusts, ensuring he was deep in her core. “Ungrateful fucking slave,” he hissed as he roughly pounded in and out of her. “Quit clutching those sheets and play with that clit of yours. I want to feel that hot, greedy, little pussy of yours clamp down on my cock and milk me dry. That’s it, baby.” His fingers dug into the sides of her thighs as she screamed out with her climax and did exactly as he instructed—milked him dry...

  He gave her a minute to recoup and then made his way into the bathroom to prep the Jacuzzi tub where they would soak. He ran a hot bath, mixing a concoction of Epson salts and violet and vanilla almond salts. It would help in the healing process of his slave’s body. He walked around the edge of the tub, lit candles, and dimmed the lights. He gave as much thought to her aftercare as he did to the actual scene itself. The rest of her evening would be spent relaxing in the soothing scents as he took care of her. He enjoyed aftercare with his slave because it was the only time she let the walls around her heart crumble in his presence.

  Chapter Three

  Toby

  At this point, Toby was willing to do anything to get out of his dire situation. Though he wasn’t involved in the BDSM lifestyle, he was familiar with it. He had been researching it online with curiosity for months. The close knit community had always been a drawing card for him. He had spent his life being shoved from foster home to foster home and he couldn’t ever remember feeling wanted, much less loved, by anyone. He’d always had a timid and shy personality. Though that alone didn’t make him sub material, the fact that he was unusually drawn to strong women made him wonder, at times, if he didn’t have traits. The only way to find out was to fully submerge in the BDSM lifestyle. He was going to go through a boot camp, of sorts, for the next six weeks.

  He had been shocked when the woman, who originally came to his apartment to talk about the man he escaped, presented the idea of going to The Mansion. Of course, she stressed the importance of discretion, but she really seemed like she wanted to help him. He couldn’t help but wonder if she was a Mistress.

  Their drive to The Mansion was a quiet one and, before he knew it, they arrived at their destination. He looked up and viewed the long row of trees lining the driveway and providing a form of privacy from curious onlookers. A camera security system that monitored visitors and deliveries was positioned at the opening of the large, black, rod iron gated entrance. It was already evident to him that discretion was paramount at The Mansion, not that it mattered to him. No one cared where he was; therefore, he stood no chance of anyone looking for him.

  The lady agent spoke out the car window, reaching over her partner to lean towards the speaker. “It’s Mistress Rene for Master William.” She turned to look at Toby and grinned mischievously. She had to know that he’d been curious, wondering whether or not she was a Mistress.

  The gate opened and they continued up the long, tree-lined driveway. Toby looked out the window and admired the beautiful mansion with large, white columns. It looked much like what you might see in a magazine for the rich and famous. He couldn’t help but be in awe of the estate that spanned the large property.

  “Toby, you’re going to see things here that you have never seen before. If you truly are a sub, like you believe you are, this is a journey that will change your life. It will keep you from waging war within yourself about your identity. Just keep an open mind and you’ll do fine. Are you sure you want to go through with this?”
/>   He nodded his head. After he started researching the lifestyle, he had set up a profile on a BDSM social site. The more information he found, the more he questioned if he truly was a sub. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “You’ll be asked to sign a waiver before your training begins.”

  “I’m fine with that.”

  “Okay, let’s go talk to Master William.”

  They exited the car and made their way up to the dwelling that would forever be the place that changed his life. It would be eternally etched in his memories, lined along the shelf of firsts. This moment, this time, and the Masters of The Mansion would change his life for the better. Though he had no way of knowing that yet, a premonition of sorts assured him of that truth.

  Upon reaching the entrance, he looked up to see a virtually nude blonde waiting to greet them at the door. She wore nothing but black leather wrist and ankle cuffs. The only other embellishment she donned was a pair of black stripper heels.

  Without a word, she led them down a hallway and into the office of a man Toby assumed would be in charge of him while he was in residence. Once seated, he studied his surroundings. The office was decorated with high-end antiques, but done in a very masculine style. He watched as the man stood and made his way over to them. He was tall, thin, and he was dressed in a way that made Toby think he was European. There seemed to be an air of royalty, almost an elegance of sorts, about him. His shoulder length, grey hair was held back by a black ribbon and his cold, blue eyed stare made Toby want to drop his gaze. The man was obviously sizing him up and it made Toby nervous when he stared at him in such a penetrating way. His white, ruffled shirt was worn under a vest and his grey riding pants were tucked into tall, black, riding boots.

  “My name is Master William and you are never to address me as anything but. Are you here of your own volition?” His words were short, curt, and direct.