“When is the last time you saw Mr. Clapton, Mr. Kingsley,” The infuriating man asked for a second time since he entered my office. As if he was going to make me slip up on my story.
The big, barrel-chested detective jotted notes in a small notebook, then started watching me from under his bushy brows. He was almost the cliché of a grizzled detective. They'd shown up just as I knew they would. I had just ordered my boy to keep his new toy buried in his ass, and I planned for him to keep it there until I removed it. Having my scene with my boy interrupted had made me less affable to his presence. The detective was ruining my plans for the evening. If there was one thing I hated more than anything it was a disruption to my routine.
It had already taken several days to adjust to taking care of my guest permanently. If Harrison was at my mercy or not, I wasn't willing for him to die due to my neglect.
I concealed my deep breath and tried to control my irritation. “He left my office at five as always. I'm a stickler for my schedule, Tuesday, three weeks ago.”
“Why didn't you report him missing?”
Even if I wasn't currently aware of where Harrison was, it would never have occurred to me to notify authorities over a person not showing up.
“He's my employee…why would I be concerned?”
“He's worked for you for”—he flipped through pages, and I was annoyed he'd forgotten a detail—”three years. Has he missed a day in that time?”
“He's taken the usual sick days which he was upset when I thoroughly rebuked him for his insubordination.”
I felt the odd, uncomfortable pull in my cheeks as I attempted a smile. From his expression, the man didn't like me, and while I didn't care, I'd prefer if I didn't have to spend further time in his company.
“Does he have any friends? Maybe he mentioned a…partner.”
Partner was pushed like a curse between compressed lips.
“His personal life or his sexuality is of no concern to me. As long as he did his job up to my standards, I didn't interact with him.”
“Is that how you usually treat your employees?”
“He's only my second one. His predecessor was with me since I opened the office nearly fifteen years ago. She was irreplaceable.”
She'd excelled as my office manager. Not only did she do her job as I required, but she rarely spoke of anything other than work-related subjects. When she retired, I realized how difficult it was to find a person such as herself. She was one of the only people I hadn't thought about killing once. She had a ruthlessness about her that I had greatly respected.
“Can we check his computer and desk?”
“I will have to ask that you refrain from accessing client files, that would be a breach of attorney/client privilege, but I see no issue with checking his search history and such. I restricted his use of the computer for personal emails or searches, but that doesn't mean he didn't.”
“We'll send one of Computer Crime guys over the go through his desktop.”
“Do you have a time so that I can arrange to be here? I'd leave the door open, but it's not the safest neighborhood, and I'll be out of the office for the weekend.”
“The number you gave me earlier, is that the best one to reach you? I'll have them give you a call later or in the morning.”
“Yes, that's my personal phone. I have problems with insomnia, but if I don't answer, they're welcome to leave a message.”
“If you hear from Mr. Clapton, please keep us updated.”
“Of course.” I stood and steeled myself as I extended my arm across the desk to shake the man's hand. I tried not to grimace at the cool, clamminess of his skin. I slowly released the offending object.
We exchanged unnecessary pleasantries, and I let out a heavy relieved sigh as I closed the door behind the man. I was a half hour past the usual time I headed home. I gathered the items I would need for the weekend and adjusted my schedule to reflect the fact I would need to come to the office tomorrow for them to check Harrison's computer. Until then, it was time to confuse my boy more. I required him to question, and the more his confusion grew, the less chance he'd brace himself for my next move.
I needed to intensify his training in order to teach him that I owned him. I'd always assumed that if I ever found someone to keep, which I found naive, that I'd need to build a sense of trust. While I'd studied BDSM, and my urges seemed to lean toward sadistic, I didn't altogether see myself as a Master or Sir. In order to make Harrison mine, I'd have to adjust my thinking to the safe, sane and consensual mandate.
Would I be able to teach him to submit to my punishments and gain his trust?
My irritation grew with my confusion at my thought process. My drive home was riddled with mental contemplations of odd musings. I'd paid people well over the years to let me whip them or to watch them fuck themselves as my body wouldn't allow me to do it. I could remember a handful of times that I attempted to fuck, and in the end, I accepted my impotence and adapted. In my younger days, I'd masturbated as other boys had, but I found the pleasure that I received from it minimal at best.
My body and brain were broken, I accepted and didn't ponder, but when I'd watched Harrison fuck himself, I felt the stirrings of arousal. I'd purchased an instrument of humiliation as close to my penis as I could find. For a few moments, I'd actually wondered what his hole would feel like around my penis. I'd cupped my firming length behind the front of my slacks and was shocked that I'd felt something other than disinterest.
After my usual routine of making several wrong turns and the drive through the countryside, I pulled into my garage and leisurely made my way inside.
I finished the preparations I'd begun that morning. The metal plate under the end of my bed held the hook that I'd welded into place. At the end of the chain rested a shackle for Harrison’s ankle. I'd provided him with a thick futon mattress on the floor at the foot of my bed. The chain was only long enough for him to reach the bathroom.
I walked to my dresser, changed my clothes and slipped the mask over my face. Then I placed the lifters in my shoes to add a few inches to my height. The leather of my gloves stretched and caressed over my hands. Whether it was Harrison’s fear or the fact I hadn't allowed him near me in the years he worked for me—he hadn't worked out my identity. I had altered the tone of my voice when speaking with him while he's been my guest and I used my normal voice. Low and guttural, spoken sparingly. In my disguise that I used as a lawyer and normal human, I changed myself to fit—to blend with the more acceptable members of humanity.
On my way down to the basement, I retrieved the box I'd picked up for his items and the single bulb. I unlocked the bolts on the door and changed my steps to a heavier tread as I descended the stairs. My unhurried stride carried me to the center of the dark space to screw in the bulb. Then I approached his enclosure. He was lying on his side and tears were dried on his cheeks, his lashes matted. He shivered as he'd left the blanket off his body, but it was hugged to his chest.
I neared and crouched down, setting the box down and placed my hand over his side. Without touching him, I traced the curves of his body, and I wondered what his body hair would feel like under the planes of my hands. I leaned slightly to the side to find just the head of the dildo still inside his hole. His rim was swollen and red from the abuse. I slowly grabbed the base and shallowly fucked him with it. He was sufficiently stretched that it moved in and out of his hole smoothly. He whimpered in his sleep, but his exhaustion was clear as he didn't awaken. I knelt in the dirt and used my right hand to tug his cheeks apart to get a better view as I pushed the entire length into his hole.
I stopped as his back arched and then I roughly removed it. He yelped and put as much distance between us as possible. “Gather your things, place them in the box.” I surged upward and backed up until I was just outside the opening.
“W-why?”
“Gather your things, place them in the box.”
Tears once more filled his eyes, and an odd sense of excitement tightened my chest. His hands were shaking as he set each item in the box including the snacks he'd squirreled away under the mattress. The lantern and books were the last things to be tucked into the box.
“Stand and precede me upstairs, do not attempt to run…it will just make your punishment worse. Also, take your toy…you will wash it when we're upstairs.”
He was barely able to get to his feet because he was trembling so violently. I knew what he was thinking, that he'd outlived his usefulness and I felt a sense of exhilaration at his fear. His steps stuttered, and he tripped as he froze at the bottom of the stairs. I pulled the chain to kill the light, and as soon as darkness took over the space, he moved upstairs.
His feet were caked in dirt, and he had smudges all over his body.
“Set your box aside and sit on the stool.”
He obeyed so beautifully, and it caused an alien moment of feeling. I was unsure of what it was and pushed it aside for later analysis. I served him food and wine, all of which he consumed as a man savoring his last meal, and when I gave him a slice of cheesecake, the tears he'd restrained finally fell over his thick bottom lashes. That's when I realized his lashes were so thick and dark that they looked as if his eyes were lined with makeup. His beard that had started to turn shaggy didn't take away from how pretty I thought he looked.
I'd found people aesthetically pleasing. I recognized the superficial trappings of a person as beautiful or ugly, but I'd never felt pleasure in observing people. Except it wasn't any random person but Harrison.
“You will wash your dishes and your toy.”
As he carried out his tasks, I drank a glass of water, and when I was satisfied, I ordered him to pick up his box and gave him directions upstairs to my bedroom. I didn't spend much time in my cabin and was impatient to return to my apartment, but until he'd accepted his place, we'd have to carry out his training here.
Over the next hour, I tended him without speaking. I bathed him, playing close attention to his genitals and his sore hole. He shied away but made no protests. I found it strangely satisfying to care for him. I even provided him with silk sleep pants that I dressed him in, and his suspicion grew the longer I didn't cause him pain. It was there in the way he stared at me.
I secured the shackle around his ankle, tucked him in bed and left him without a word to return downstairs to take care of my evening tasks, then clean myself up in the guest bath. Tonight, I'd let him believe whatever is going on in his head, but tomorrow I would begin the process of showing my ownership.
The act of forming attachments to things, people or places were as foreign to me as emotion. I was in territory I was unfamiliar with, and my own adjustments would take time. It was odd not to feel…homicidal.