Shifting Power: DARK EMPIRE: BOOK 4 Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Shifting Power (Dark Empire, #4)

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Dear Reader

  About the Author

  Shifting Power

  Dark Empire: Book 4

  By

  Meraki P. Dark

  Shifting Power

  1. edition

  Copyright © 2020 Taboo BooxXx

  ISBN 13: 978-87-93966-04-8

  Cover design by GetCovers

  www. getcovers.com

  Edited by Laura McNellis

  www.alternativedits.com

  Find more about the author

  www.merakiplyhne.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without written permission except in the case of brief quotations included in critical articles and reviews. For information, please contact the author.

  This book is a work of fiction.

  That means I made shit up. All of it.

  The only thing that never changes is that everything changes.

  A sinister dark web niche for bored rich people with a depraved need to watch sexual decadences have put their money into a project to give them just that. High-end entertainment with lots of violence and lots of sex.

  The gladiators have three things in common: They’ve been kidnapped, pumped full of drugs to enhance their strength and stamina, and nobody would ever miss them. Except Duncan, who ended up strapped to a lab table as a result of mixed identities.

  To save his life’s work, Dr. Malcom shares everything he knows with the man who holds it all in the palm of his hand. He even submits fully to let the man know what power he holds.

  For someone not having learned what Dr. Malcom did while fighting to become the doctor he is today, power can be dangerous, and Dr. Malcom will once again do anything to make sure his dream survives.

  But the rich people who want their entertainment aren’t too thrilled at Dr. Malcom dropping the ball, and one of them takes drastic measures to ensure his investment in the Dark Empire.

  Duncan and Axel are slowly settling into a life with a bleak future compared to what they’d planned. No one knows what the future holds for them, so they decide to build a new one. One that revolves around the doctor who made Duncan into an incubus. If anyone can save Duncan and Axel’s future, it’s him. Having to go to extreme measures just for the hope of that to be possible is a price they’re willing to pay for love. But that price isn’t simple or pretty, and their world view continues to be challenged as the doctor’s true nature is revealed.

  Their enemy isn’t who they thought.

  Chapter One

  MALCOM PRIED HIMSELF off the floor of the shower stall to finish rinsing off the blood from the brutal fuck his incubus monster had put him through as revenge.

  That past with Mr. Thomlinson. That kind of power in the Ring of Lust. That was how he’d empower himself to get through this and save the Uncle Mal Foundation. That power allowed for all of them to get out on top. He would raise Duncan up and empower him to save it all, considering he was already an immensely powerful personality. But he needed focus. Direction. And he wasn’t balanced.

  Malcom needed to balance Duncan first.

  That junkie, though. Malcom hadn’t thought about that guy in years. He’d been the first actual breakthrough, and the early studies into receptors had since then been adapted. But maybe there was something in that first notebook? Maybe something in there could help Malcom find a way to slow the insatiable lust and need in Duncan?

  He hoped. His ass hoped, too.

  He toweled off on the way to the closet, found fresh clothes and an adult diaper, and rummaged through the box under his bed to find his old notebooks. On that front, he was a hoarder. He’d never tossed a journal, and he had hundreds.

  The sight of it made him smile. Sire had invested so much in him. The trip down memory lane to find the necessary headspace had opened up old wounds. The death of Sire took on a new feel, and it felt fresh. Hardy had stayed with Malcom on request in Sire’s last will and testament. This place had already been bought and stood in Malcom’s name by then, and he hadn’t even known it until the reading of the will. But Hardy had. While the house and most things in it went to Marcus, the sub planes, the tiled room, and a select few items went to Malcom and Hardy.

  For another six years, Malcom had Hardy, who then called Malcom Master. He worked tirelessly to make a home for Robert in a villa not far from the complex Malcom resided in now. When Hardy had fallen ill and died, Malcom couldn’t stay in that villa. It seemed empty without the man who’d made it a home for him, and Malcom had moved to the complex, devoting his time fully to save children.

  Hardy’s death wasn’t even one he could have helped with all his insight into nanites. Hardy had led a rough life, and his body couldn’t handle the strain anymore.

  Malcom had loved him ‘til the end.

  And he felt so alone. Sire and Hardy had been his family, and the holes and subjects he’d collected weren’t special. Until Duncan. That first time he’d opened his mouth, Malcom had felt hopeful. But then the truth came out, and Duncan had a lover.

  Malcom’s heart squeezed at their love. It squeezed at both hope and the regret that he’d compromised something so pure. It was obvious that they weren’t part of the norm. They hadn’t been abused. Maybe that was why they’d managed to build a relationship so strong? Because abuse hadn’t damaged the foundation for trust and security?

  But the average life was full of abuse, so thinking anyone got through life without it was only a dream they’d been able to hold onto for so long. Malcom accepted that as a fact of life. That didn’t mean he didn’t mourn it. Children dying from diseases was also a normal part of life, and that hadn’t stopped him from doing anything and everything in his power to change that.

  So, he’d help see Duncan and Axel off in a bright future full of love that would never be within Malcom’s range of life experiences. And he was okay with that. His hopes for that had died with Hardy.

  Dressed and hungry as hell, Malcom left his room with the notebook, finding the common room filled. Duncan sat in one end of the couch with Axel snuggled closely. The big bouncer looked up, his eyes red, so Malcom went to the fridge to leave them to bond and figure things out. It was Axel who functioned as the man’s anchor. That much, Malcom had learned.

  He fixed himself a quick sandwich with eggs and went to the two-man table that had more or less become his corner. It was away from the rest of them, and Malcom preferred that. Even more after a walk down memory lane. He was struggling a bit to acclimatize to the place he held now. As an heir. He was a slave again—his still healing and sore ass a testament to that.

  But it was merely another mindset to be controlled. To push toward acceptance, he left that fact to be fact and started in on reading the notebook on his early research into receptors. His ability to focus had always been his rescue from pain and degradation, and it was no different now. Sire had helped train that, and he was grateful for it.

  Duncan sat down across from Malcom, ripping him
from his thoughts. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, the nanites work fine.”

  Duncan deflated. “I mean, are you okay.”

  “Yeah.” Malcom didn’t know whether to feel lucky or broken that he felt less affected by the brutality of the last feeding than Duncan, but in the end, he figured it just substantiated his theory that the man hadn’t known abuse to learn to deal with it mentally. To control the situation and his own emotions to survive them. “It’s okay. I know the score. I made you do this.”

  “But I’m the one doing it.”

  Malcom’s attempt to take the blame away from Duncan apparently didn’t work as hoped. Change of tactics. “Whenever I’m abused in a new way and my mind has trouble adapting, I focus on what I know to seek out prior incidents to help me. In this case, that amounted to remembering the first subject gifted to me to study the nanites.” Malcom held up the tattered old notebook. “A junkie. I looked into receptors then. In here might be more on the receptors I need to fill in you. I focus on that because it’s what I know. You apparently haven’t known abuse enough to deal with it the way I do, and I guess that’s a good thing, but you have Axel, and you turn to him to deal. Do that, and I’ll work on the receptors.”

  “Abused enough?”

  Malcom kept calm eye contact. “Yes.”

  “Jesus,” Duncan muttered. He stood and walked back to the couch to cradle his lover in his arms.

  Malcom’s phone rang, and he picked it up, not looking at the caller ID—he expected it to be the Baron.

  But the voice made warmth spread in him after having just thought so much about a man who’d supported him as much as Sire and Hardy. Dr. Sebastian Willum.

  “Hi. Are you ever going to come visit me? I know you live too far away, but I bought your favorite tea just in case.”

  “My...” Click.

  Malcom looked at the dark display, then put the phone to his ear again. “Hello?” He turned to look at Zero. “Do we suddenly have bad reception?”

  “No.”

  “Hmm.” Malcom put the phone down and returned his attention to the notebook. But he wasn’t reading it. He was hoping dearly that the doctor remembered tea being a safe word in a game once. That the man would understand that Malcom had been caught and to stay the fuck away and not call him again. That he’d take precautions.

  “Burner phone. Who was that?” Chief asked, standing behind Zero and looking at the screen. Of course they listened in and tracked everything.

  “Someone from Sire’s past,” Malcom said

  Chief came to sit across from Malcom. “You’ve mentioned that name a few times now.”

  “He’s dead.”

  “I got that much. Who’s he to him?” Chief nodded to the phone.

  “He was Sire’s physician, then mine, now retired. A kind man who sometimes helped me with my homework, too.”

  Chief nodded. “Someone connected with all this?”

  “With what he was sometimes called out to save me from? Yes.”

  Was that pity he saw in the Seal’s eyes?

  Finally, Chief nodded and walked away, leaving Malcom to focus on his project.

  Glancing up, he saw Oliver sit by a table with Tiny, reminding Malcom that they needed to continue his training. He had work to do, though, so he looked around for one of his subjects.

  Ken was present, so Malcom knocked once on his table, making Ken come to him.

  “Fill a thermos for me, then go demand Oliver drop trou, get on his knees, and then fuck him. Be somewhat gentle about it. Afterward, get him a shot of scotch and chat mundane everyday stuff with him.”

  “Yes, Master.” Ken walked off, not questioning the order.

  A moment later, Malcom had a fresh cup of coffee for his study time and more than one pair of eyes on him. He ignored it, needing to learn more about Oliver, and this was the way to do it. And not just Oliver. He needed to know about everybody and whether they could live with what needed to happen over the next three weeks.

  But Oliver did as he was told, hanging his head while Ken unbuckled his pants, knelt behind Oliver, and poured lube onto his fingers and into the cleft of the ass he’d been told to be gentle with.

  Oliver’s pained grunts still made it across the room to where Malcom sat and read up on the junkie that he’d experimented on. That guy had done more than grunt from pain. Once he’d woken up to find himself tied down, he’d screamed bloody murder.

  Back then, even though Malcom had been with Sire for years at that point, he’d been very moved by it. Afraid, even. Not anymore. It was merely background noise like a radio droning on.

  Zero plopped down on the seat across from Malcom. “Is that necessary?”

  “His training?”

  “I meant, does that necessarily have to go on in here.”

  “Yes.”

  “We have three weeks here.” Zero was apparently not fond of what he imagined he would be forced to observe during that time.

  “And the Baron on our necks. That man is dangerous at a level you apparently don’t comprehend. He’s near untouchable.”

  “I can take anyone down with my computer.”

  Malcom looked up at the self-assured young pincushion. “Well, then get close and hit him physically with it because that’s about as digital as that man is.” Zero frowned. “Not everybody trusts the digital time. He’s ninety and is still considered a dangerous man. He’s...scary as all hell. And his sponsored is just as competent. To the Ring, they’re referred to as the disposers. And they don’t advertise that shit on the internet.”

  “But his bank is digital.”

  “His gold isn’t.” Malcom moved forward a bit. “He had a mold made of the head of someone who crossed us and now has it as a centerpiece in a fountain-like structure made to put the holes into to be pissed on by the members. He’s into that sort of thing. The head of an enemy to be pissed on. Made from gold. Let that mentality sink in for a moment.” Clearly, that was a level of disturbed that even the young man with tough life experience had trouble wrapping his head around. “Do you want to end up a gold bust at the bottom of a urinal?”

  Zero gritted his teeth. “Let me at least look.”

  “Look, by all means, but at least run stuff past me before you do anything, okay?”

  “Sure thing.” Zero got up, then sat again. “Oh, but I should tell you. Axel will have problems with that.” Zero hooked a thumb toward where Ken was moving in on an orgasm, and Oliver hung his head, crying.

  “Good, I guess.”

  Zero sat back, dumbfounded. “Good? That’s your response?”

  “Does it bother you?”

  “With the shit I’ve seen? No.”

  “It doesn’t bother me, either,” Malcom said, shrugging. “So, what does that say about Axel? If I can think it’s good that he’s affected?” And Zero obviously got it. They were accustomed to what life had to dish out, and Axel had been wrapped in cotton and his big bouncer’s protective arms. “Help me save what innocence I can by giving him his tender lover back.”

  “You’re really sorry you took Duncan from him, aren’t you? As in, truly.”

  “Let’s put it this way.” Malcom thumbed the corners of the notebook’s pages. “Last I vowed to go the distance to achieve something, I ended up willingly enslaving myself to be the sole property of a man to use and abuse me at will for the next eight years, and I still think that price was worth those children now surviving. I have now vowed to Duncan that I’ll be there for the monster I created and to work on getting him reunited fully with his lover. Guess whether I think being fucked to bloody pieces is a worthy price and whether my determination to reach that goal will stand the distance.”

  Zero looked like he had a bit of trouble. “Point taken.” He returned to his computer, and Malcom returned to his notes on the screaming junkie he’d ultimately killed from trying out the first batch of nanites. But the receptor work had been promising.

  Ken orgasmed, but Malcom didn’t look up. H
e expected Ken to be able to carry out the order. Plus, something about the early research began sparking some memories of stuff he’d read ages ago, and he scribbled down what he remembered while trying to recall the book that had ultimately helped suppress the junkie’s need for a high.

  Again, it had been a onetime off, but it hadn’t been made from the junkie’s own blood like Malcom’s preliminary research on Duncan’s condition had indicated he’d need this time. All he had to keep doing was mind the nanites attacking everything. They didn’t have a shelf life like the ones mending Malcom’s ravished ass because they weren’t being used up. They either filled the receptors, or they backed off, ultimately creating a new wave of withdrawal symptoms.

  Could he counter them?

  Someone sat down across from him, interrupting his thoughts, and Malcom seriously contemplated barricading himself in his lab. Looking up and finding Oliver with a glass of scotch, Malcom forgave it. It was part of the training he’d specified the boundaries of.

  “Well, that was unpleasant.”

  “Leave it and move on.”

  “I’m really trying to.” Oliver sipped his drink. “What did you do to detach?”

  “I kept focusing on why I allowed it to happen. Kept telling myself it was worth it. I repeated it until it became the only truth I know.”

  “But I have to get ready for that big fat cock of Duncan’s. Do we know for when?”

  “Could be in an hour. Could be tomorrow.” The glass wall. It suddenly struck Malcom how he’d trained his own ass. “You’re not sore anymore, right?”

  “No.”

  “Good. I remember a way you can train yourself. We need you ready soon, so we’re going to do this hardcore now that you’ve been shot up by nanites. Come on.” Malcom stood and brought his notebook to the withdrawal room, lowering the wall to be about three feet off the ground.

  He noticed that his blood from the violent fuck was still on the floor, despite the attempted cleaned up. The memory of the intense pain made an involuntary shiver tear through him.

  To focus on the task at hand, Malcom went to the chest of equipment and picked out some dildos in different sizes and coordinated them by size along the floor on individual towels. It went from his cock size to Duncan’s.