The Apprentice Vol. 1
The Apprentice Vol. 1
Lil Harvest: Book 3
By
Meraki P. Dark
The Apprentice Vol. 1
1. edition
Copyright © 2019 Taboo BooxXx
ISBN 13: 978-87-971595-3-8
Cover design by Queen Ninie
www. designedbyqueenninie.weebly.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.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
About the Author
Chapter One
New York 2008
Another big city as hunting grounds, and another ten years of depositing demonic energy in a rapist’s ass and bottling it.
Kendrick’s name was now Mason Bailey. His trusted left hand kept the names of the underlings close to that of the humans’ the underling demons had clawed into and possessed that fateful night almost four hundred years ago. It made it easy to remember at first, and since then, it had become a tradition. His underlings were big on those.
Kendrick’s name was the only one that always stuck out from the first-letter-rule, but that was because they forged his identity to be able to pop up for ten years and disappear. His next two identities had already been born and died of natural causes, and their birth certificates had been secured to be cultivated into full identities. In a society as surveilled as now, the underlings were constantly working on getting the next harvest cycle ready, yet they didn’t bother him with the details of it.
Gerard, Gabin, Gjord was now Gary, his head of security. Spencer, Sebastien had become Sam, Mason’s personal assistant. Severin, Sivert was now Seth, and he took care of the feeding area and stock along with Lander, Leon, who was now named Lawrence. Mason called the feeding area his Kennel. He’d so enjoyed training Sterling the Mutt that he’d continued that form of humiliation, since it was what fed him the most. He’d even begun breeding pedigree dogs to hide the purchases in a paper trail of a legit business.
Hadley, Hermine had become Helena, taking care of the house like in every cycle. Edwena, Estelle was Elise. Bradley, Bastien had become Byron. And Jeffrey, Joachim was now named Joey.
But Willow remained Willow. She even remained his wife. He’d found such comfort in having her by his side that when she suggested it to keep him a respectable man, he’d had no trouble saying yes. But they’d never consummated any of their fake marriages. He’d wanted her a few times, but knowing that the soul and still conscious possessed woman would be an unwilling participant of what Willow would allow kept him at bay. Which was hilarious since he fed daily, for hours on end even, raping men. Plus, she was only into women, and she had no interest in what his body could give her. Also, if he needed something different, Gary had been true to his word about only taking the bodies of rapist, allowing them both to feed and have fun. And like the first cycle, Mason would help him die in the throes of ecstasy caused by the wailing of the host’s soul, as Mason sexually abused him to death.
He raped rapists, and he’d come to settle with his fate and now found some perverse sense of justification in it.
Standing in his new office, he marveled at the sight of the New York skyline growing dimmer as the sun set. He marveled at what mankind could create and build. His last harvest cycle had been in Madrid, Spain. Before that, Düsseldorf, Germany, and before that, Stockholm in Sweden. Before that, he wasn’t so sure about the location, but he’d been all over Europe and a few times in the States and Canada and once in Russia. He spoke all the languages, guided and taught by his dedicated demon wife.
Well, this time, she started out as his fiancée. They needed a way to make him seen and powerful, and they needed to make a good impression. Romance and happy times were the best circumstances, so in this cycle, he was going to marry Willow and throw the biggest private party New York had seen in a decade.
Business interests had been cultivated for the past cycle by Willow, and everything was ready for him to step out into the spotlight and gain the power necessary for them to hunt freely and own the grounds to have the necessary privacy to gather energy for the Lil-demons.
Someone knocked on the door, ripping Mason from his thoughts. “Enter.”
Gary came in, smiling. He looked so different from the burley sheriff he’d possessed back then. Or the fuckable Gabin. Lust could still flare in Mason thinking about that ass, yet his thoughts always averted to Gabin’s little brother, Tristan, the man who’d loved Mason and lived with having to share Mason’s body with the incubus’ needs.
Mason would always be able to tell his underlings apart. A spell had bound them together, and he could recognize them by looking into their black eyes. It was their only telltale, and it had brought trouble a few times, but nothing Mason’s social status and power hadn’t been able to thwart.
The human Gary possessed this time was as fuckable as Gabin had been, and Mason looked forward to the pleasure he’d be taking from him.
“Settling in present,” Gary said, holding out a box.
Mason chuckled.
“I hope for one, too,” Gary said, taking a seat.
“Ah, ulterior motives!”
“Absolutely. But this is the harvest present from all of us.”
Mason turned the box, looking at it. “I usually get the harvest present at home during the harvest dinner.”
“Yes, but we decided to let you have it early.” Gary tapped his watch.
Mason opened the box, finding a gift card for five thousand dollars, a business card, a catalog, and a note with a name and address on it. The catalog got his interest, though. Custom fetish wear, and there was a leather dog mask with floppy ears and everything on the front. Mason’s dick stirred at imagining having forced one like that on Lord Sterling and marching him around the courtyard on all fours.
“I see we did good,” Gary said, grinning.
“And the rest in here?” Mason sat, wincing as his body reminded him that he’d spent the last week getting fucked and fucking Bakzel and his eight demon allies.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, but even an immortal endowed by an incubus demon gets tired after ten thousand orgasms.”
Gary chuckled. “At least they take their time with you.”
Mason nodded. He still remembered the first time a Lil-demon had touched him. Bakzel had been an ugly little creature, looking like his teeth were rotting out of his face, and that his jaw was about to drop off since it only hung by one hinge. He’d smelled like sulfur, yet back then Mason hadn’t had the knowledge to know what it was. Plus, he’d just been raped by Lord Sterling and was rolling around in manure, piss, vomit, and his own blood. But he remembered Bakzel jacking him off. He also remembered how Bakzel had fucked him on top of his first victim—the ten orgasms being harvested were also what sealed the deal and gave a stable boy the
strength to become so much more.
Back then, he’d hated what he’d done after the fact. He’d tried to temper the need, and he’d ended up raping his best friend, blind to anything but his cock up an unwilling ass.
Since then, he’d fed the hunger to not become its slave, and now, four hundred years later, he took a sick satisfaction from it. He readily admitted that, yet he still felt grateful that it was rapists he fed from. That balance had taken years to cultivate, and he was still surprised that it had come from growing fond of his rapist. Well, he’d grown fond of what was left after he’d destroyed everything about the man that he’d hated. His mutt. Yeah, he and Sterling had ended up lovers, and in turn, the love for what he’d created became the salvation of his humanity.
And then came Tristan. The innocent young man who’d been caught in the crossfires. In the cycle after him, Mason had feared his humanity would die, but it hadn’t. His ability for compassion had grown, and he’d found another prized mutt. They had since Tristan’s love become his salvation like Sterling had.
Back to the harvest present. Mason smiled as he opened the catalog, now understanding the name, address, and the gift card. It was to stay off the radar when he ordered new toys.
“Seth called to tell you that the Kennel is ready. You have a new mutt to train, too.”
“A special mutt?”
“No, just a mutt. I’m still looking into one who seems very promising.”
Mason looked up at his friend and demon servant. “With you looking this pleased with yourself, I’m looking forward to it.”
“It’s early still. And I’ll be home late.”
“Our ritual dinner is tonight at nine. You’re not allowed to miss that, even for my special mutt.”
“Yes, Master, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Only alone would the underlings use that term, and Mason took it as an honorary title. Once, he hadn’t been able to understand it. He hadn’t thought highly enough of himself. Now he knew he was more. If not as a man, he definitely was as a demon endowed human. The first Incubus spawn. The only human Incubus in existence according to Bakzel. And he had a full mandate in the human realm because he was human first, nurturing a demon born inside him. It made him a king of the human realm, but it was never something anyone brought up unless his mandate was in question by some gung-ho demon. Luckily, demon politics didn’t influence him often.
“What did you find for our harvest dinner tonight?”
“A pedophile who spent a weekend with teenage boys age fourteen.”
Mason shivered, and his wonderful hard-on dropped its enthusiastic bobbing at the models showing off the exquisite fetish gear. His cock going flaccid was new, and he sat back, horrified.
“I know how much you want to keep the children safe.”
“Absolutely. Good choice. All of you will be well fed once I’m done with him.”
Gary smiled.
Mason’s cock grew hard again as he looked through the catalog. All he’d had to fashion Sterling a tail had been a rope with a knot in one end, which he’d shoved up his ass for the rope to hang behind him. The tails Severin had later made were works of art, yet humans had come into their kinks so openly, and the tails he was looking at could wag and everything.
“What’s my potential special mutt’s size?”
“Slim to athletic, just like you like them, Master.”
Someone else knocked on the door, and Gary moved to block the view of the desk while Mason quickly hid the catalog, the cards, and the note in a drawer.
His cock didn’t allow him to stand without it also greeting whoever knocked, though.
“Ready,” Mason said, and Gary backed away. “Enter!”
A man in an expensive suit came in, smiling. “Mason Bailey?”
“Yes.” Shit, he had to get up and shake a hand, so he hid his erection behind his jacket and arm and leaned forward to shake the man’s hand over the desk.
“Harry Morris,” the man said as if it should ring a bell.
Mason motioned for him to sit and quickly did the same, glancing at Gary, who mouthed lawyer.
Oh, right, Willow had complained about this one, but he was good, they said.
The lawyer put a bottle of expensive champagne on the table, all wrapped up nicely and with a card attached. “As an early gift from the firm.”
“Thank you.” Mason flipped the expensive-looking card with a gold printed sentiment and no personal handwriting. How…personal and thoughtful.
“I talked to your fiancée a few days ago. I hear the preparations are going well.”
“It’s all falling into place.” If it didn’t, Willow would whip it into place, Mason was sure of it.
“Yes. There was one detail she refused to talk about, though, and, as a businessman, I know you see the importance of all Is and Ts being dotted and crossed.” The lawyer picked up his briefcase and opened it. He then looked at Gary. “I’m sorry, can I trouble you for a club soda?”
Gary shot Mason a glance. “Would you like one, too, Sir?”
“No, I’m good, thanks.”
Gary opened a cabinet door, doubling as a fridge door, and pulled out a club soda. He looked almost amused about the request to have him act as a waiter.
The lawyer, on the other hand, didn’t look pleased. “I’m sorry, I asked so we could have a moment alone.”
“Gary is my head of security and my best friend,” Mason explained. “He will know everything anyway, so save me the time of telling it to him afterward by carrying on.” Mason could be a patient man, but the incubus was not when he wanted his cock sheathed inside a struggling body. The lawyer wasn’t for the incubus, so he was a nuisance, keeping the incubus from going home to see his new mutt. Preferably wearing the doggy mask.
This guy didn’t smell right. He didn’t make the blood pump faster in Mason’s body, didn’t heighten his senses, didn’t make his saliva start growing thicker. He was just plain old…boring, and the incubus in Mason didn’t stir at all.
Not counting Gary, but the years had taught him some sense of control when the incubus was no more hungry than it was now.
“Ah, of course.”
Gary still placed the club soda and glass on the table in front of the lawyer, who pulled a manila envelope out and handed it to Mason.
“What’s this?” Mason took the envelope.
“I took the liberty of drafting a prenup, as I understand from your fiancée that you don’t have one.”
Mason stopped opening the envelope and tossed it noisily and demonstrative in the middle of the table. “We don’t need one.”
The lawyer looked surprised at that. “We all hope for the one true love, but statistics are against such pretty daydreams.”
“Do you even know her position?”
The lawyer smiled condescendingly. “I know you’re marrying your secretary.”
“Let me explain to you what it is you don’t get about this secretary, then.” Mason got up and leaned on the desk. “To get to where I am in society and life, I stand on the shoulders of great people. My fiancée is one of the people whose shoulders I stand on. Gary’s, too. Behind every great man stands a great woman, don’t tell me you don’t know the song, and in this case, if Willow and I find a divorce to be right for us in the future, she’ll fucking get half! She’s worth way more than that. Or do you think a man in a tie runs a business like this on his own?”
Mason had trouble hiding the anger at just how much the guy had apparently talked over Willow’s head. He was angry enough that his dick had gone down, and that alone infuriated Mason. He was hungry, and the guy was dicking around insulting Willow.
“Now check your I’s and T’s, and the sentence will read, you’re fucking fired. Gary, get me a new lawyer. And everything goes through Willow!”
The lawyer gaped. “But, Mr. Bailey.”
“Good day!”
“I’ll see him out,” Gary said, motioning for the lawyer to stand.
Perplexed, the lawyer gathered his things and stumbled out of the chair. “What just happened?”
“You insulted the future Ms. Bailey, and if he hadn’t torn your head off for it, I would have. Your ignorance about her is not acceptable since it tells Mr. Bailey just how few facts and details you deem important before you make up your mind about a situation. We need someone a bit more detail orientated than that.”
Mason plopped down on his chair again, once again wincing at his sore asshole. Luckily, the Lil saliva had a healing effect on him, yet Bakzel relished in making him come as hard as possible. The ability to obtain a perverse satisfaction in letting the Lil-demons harvest. That had been the deal. Oh yeah, he got that, alright. And he’d collected way more energy than in his early days.
Considering he could heal a fire poker to the heart in ten minutes, having a sore ass after a few days made no sense. He suspected it to be for Bakzel’s amusement, only, knowing that Mason would feel and enjoy his and the other Lil’s cock for days.
Back to the catalog. Flipping through it, he wondered what mutt the underlings had found for him to satisfy his daily hunger this early in a harvest cycle. He was always almost insatiable this early on. Was it a boring mutt, a scared mutt, a fighting mutt? There were so many types. Excitement once again bubbled to the surface and filled his cock as he imagined a feisty one being forced to wear the doggy mask, and one of the tails had a huge butt plug. Oh, that was going to be fun. He actually enjoyed the whole anal training because it satisfied so many aspects of his hunger. Humiliation always being a priority of his, yet he also loved watching the fight to try to regain control over a situation, before the inevitable defeat.
He wondered what his fetish that cycle would be. He’d had a dick torture fetish, nipple torture fetish, a self-harm fetish. He even thought he’d picked that one up from the demon master, Tonram. But there were only so many fetishes that fed him, so his likings were likely to change all the time.