The Apprentice Vol. 2 Read online

  The Apprentice

  Vol. 2

  Lil Harvest: Book 4

  By

  Meraki P. Dark

  The Apprentice Vol. 2

  1. edition

  Copyright © 2020 Taboo BooxXx

  ISBN 13: 978-87-971595-9-0

  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.

  In the beginning, an Incubus was merely a low-ranking demon who fed on the sexual terror he could inflict upon a human being. But that was before one of them got the idea to turn a human with nothing to lose into the perfect demon feeder.

  But everything created will also evolve, and the creating demon never expected his plan to turn out quite like this.

  One good thing came out of the police sniffing around for a missing person. Mason found his apprentice. But they’re far from out of the woods, yet, and Mason has to balance that and finding common grounds with a young man who struggles as much as Mason did, just differently.

  *Please note that Harvest of Lil is in the genre Horror as it contains the effects of demonic manipulation, and as a result, content in these works may contain graphic scenes of depravity, cruelty, and violence—sexual or otherwise—that could be offensive and potentially triggering to some readers.

  SERIES CONTAINS: non-con, dub-con, whipping, fisting, master/slave, voyeurism, power struggle, sensory deprivation, menagé, demons and demonic manipulation, puppy play, extreme sadism, abduction, exhibitionism, slavery, psychological mindfucks, extreme violence, and dystopia settings.

  Colophon

  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

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  A demon? Mr. Bailey was a demon?

  Heath sat in the holding cell and looked at the door that had just closed behind the man whose handsome face had adorned every cover of every newspaper and magazine for the past few months. He kind of popped out of nowhere with a million-dollar business thriving on dogs. He was labeled the entrepreneur of the new millennia, and a woman’s magazine had run a three-page article on how every woman in New York would never know the charismatic man as one of the top ten most eligible bachelors, since he was about to marry a woman as hot and successful as himself.

  Hell, every gay man in New York would weep about the fact the dude was straight, and Heath had wanked off to one of those articles, staring at the man who wore a suit like he owned the world and deserved it.

  But he was a demon?

  The hot guy who’d stepped out of a shadow certainly was. He’d been hot. At least once he’d stopped rotting.

  Heath couldn’t believe the conversation he’d just had. He couldn’t believe he’d been offered the strength to take revenge on the men who’d hauled him off in a car and taken turns on him in the woods. They’d just left him there afterward.

  They’d worn suits, too, and bile still rose in the back of Heath’s throat when he remembered how casually one of them had taken off his jacket and hung it on a coat hanger in the back of the car. He’d taken his time with his cufflinks and rolling up his sleeves. That gold ring had left a scar on Heath’s cheek from when the man backhanded him to make him stop shouting for them to release him.

  It had all gone a bit fuzzy after that. Except the pain as they tore into his ass. That had been front and center along with the scent of the wet spring soil of the forest bed.

  It had been brutal, and he’d needed stitches. But he’d recognized those men from the magazines, too, and he’d definitely heeded their warning when they warned him against reporting them. Who’d believe a stripper over the district attorney’s son, the mayor’s son, and the son of a Wall Street shark with a double-digit million-dollar income per year?

  Yeah, he saw their point. But the Wall Street son still made a mistake when he stalked that girl home. He made himself vulnerable by hiding. He never saw the bat. And his story never saw the newspapers. Not the full story, anyway.

  What really pissed Heath off was that he hadn’t been arrested for raping his rapist—they’d set him up on false charges, and he was now facing charges of having raped a woman. Probably one of their own victims. He’d never even touched a girl. He’d known he was gay since he was nine years old.

  His train of thought was broken when a cop entered the holding cell area. “Come on, Mr. Lloyd. You’re being transferred to county.”

  Shit.

  Heath was scared. Terrified, even. The whole process was degrading, and one of the guards kept sending him stolen glances. He looked mean. Heath’s fear rose as that guard was the one taking him through the building to a single cell.

  “Don’t worry. A pretty thing like you gets a single room.”

  Heath wondered for a brief moment whether he’d misjudged the guard, but as the guard closed and locked the door, the grin on his face told a different story, and Heath’s heart rate sped up while cold sweat spread on his body.

  Sitting in that cell, waiting, was torture. He’d managed to get even with one of his attackers, and now it looked like they’d just fucked him over with no lube again. He had no idea whether the charges would stick or not—he just knew that the public defender hadn’t even asked if he had an alibi or not when he walked Heath through what was going to happen.

  The I’m gay, I never fucked a woman in my life only earned him a raised eyebrow.

  And then Mr. Bailey in a soiled suit comes in with a demon in tow and presents Heath with a carrot. No, a carrot cake. And walked out.

  Sitting in a cement cell with bars, Heath didn’t even believe in the offer anymore. Why should he? He’d been offered so many promising things growing up. Since he was thirteen, he’d been tossed from one group home to another after his parents had died. One set of foster parents had been great, except they didn’t want him once they found out that he was gay.

  The next were drunks who used the paycheck to pay for their substance abuse, and the third set neglected to do anything when their homophobic son knocked him around, saying he just had a special sense of humor.

  In the end, Heath ran away from home and began stripping at a straight club until he got his breakthrough on an amateur night on the stage of a gay night club. The right people were in the crowd, and two nights later, he was shaking his ass for men, not women.

  Life had been good since then. Until those three fuckers saw him on his way to the car, wearing a costume needed for a LGBT fraternity house warming party.

  If he’d kept his mouth shut and not told them to fuck off, maybe they would’ve kept it at the insults. But no. Being told off by a queer in a tutu was apparently too bruising on their sense of masculinity, and the frail male ego of a straight white dude in a crowd of equals set the rest in moti
on.

  If anything, his life had taught him that bitterness was the emotion you got the longest mileage on. And, as he sat there in the cell, seething and waiting to see what would come of that guard’s smile, Heath began resenting Mr. Bailey for ever having dangled that fucking carrot in his face.

  “Lights out!”

  Oh, fuck.

  With bated breath, Heath waited in the dark, hoping he wouldn’t fall asleep. Then again, as afraid as he was, there was no chance in hell that he’d fall asleep. Great. He’d just have to stay awake until his hearing on Monday. And with the lawyer he had, he wasn’t going to hold his breath. The idea made him snort angrily because holding his breath and not sleeping for that period of time would probably prove equally impossible.

  A sound outside made him jump, and he listened intensely. The guard returned, still with that smile on his face, except it looked a lot more sinister this time. A man, scratch that, a behemoth came to stand next to him.

  “Oh, you weren’t lying, Nigel, that really is a sweet little piece of man pussy.”

  “Told ya’.”

  “Don’t do this,” Heath said, backing up. Who was he kidding? How was he going to get out of this one? Flush himself down the toilet?

  The big bald behemoth was let in, and Heath’s breath grew shallow as his throat closed up from fear. If there was truth to black men all having big cocks, Heath was about to find out.

  “Oh, yeah, that sweet little pussy’s gonna be crying after I’m done with it.”

  “No.” Heath shook his head and stepped back, finding a wall. He was begging, and he knew that.

  “Fifteen, Bill.” The guard left, and the behemoth attacked, grabbing Heath by the arms and lifting him into the air. The fabric of the jumpsuit grated his skin as Heath tried to keep his arms in the sleeves, but the guy was too strong. Suddenly, Heath’s front impacted with the bunk hard enough for him to lose his breath, and as the big man planted a hand on the middle of his back, the weight of him was enough to keep Heath from breathing.

  Through the fear, a single thought stood clear. Please let me pass out from lack of oxygen before he penetrates.

  The feeling of a dick against his hole meant that wouldn’t be possible. A surprised umph sounded, and then the weight of the behemoth was gone. An ear-piercing scream followed, and Heath jumped back against the wall, staring at another rotting man who sat astride the behemoth’s chest, grinning and snarling like nothing Heath had ever heard. It certainly didn’t sound human, and he’d never heard an animal make noises like that, either.

  “Maybe I should see if my dick isn’t rotting, too. Maybe your bubble ass would love the feel of it going in dry. I certainly know I’d love it.” The huge man struggled under the smaller guy. It looked like pieces of flesh fell off his face, but it never hit the behemoth or the ground. It simply disappeared mid-air.

  The smaller man turned the behemoth around, yanking at his clothes, and the sound of fabric tearing was audible even over the screams.

  “Oh, yeah, bubble!”

  And then a new kind of scream sounded. That was pain, and as the slighter man began pumping his hips frantically, the behemoth dragged himself and the humping rotting man on his back toward the bars while he screamed for the guard.

  Two brain cells decided to cooperate in Heath’s otherwise fear-paralyzed head, and he hurried into his jumpsuit.

  “Leave that piece of man pussy alone, or me and my well-functioning cock’ll visit you in your cell while you sleep.”

  And then the rotting man was gone—disappeared into the shadow like that demon who’d come for Mr. Bailey.

  The guard came to the cell, staring agape at the huge inmate clinging to the bars, screaming his head off about ghosts and ghouls. Heath chose to stay back. But when the guard looked at him, Heath couldn’t help but send him a devilishly charming smile.

  “Next?”

  The guard didn’t answer and hurriedly opened the cell to let the prisoner out. The behemoth clung to his ripped clothes as he ran down the hall, trailing blood that ran down his legs from his ass. The guard locked up and ran after the prisoner.

  The slight man solidified from the shadows, no longer rotting. “Sorry I couldn’t intervene earlier, but the guard may not see me. I shall inform my Master of what has occurred. We’re still working on getting you out.”

  The shadows seemed to reach for him again.

  “Wait. Which one are you?”

  “Byron, the underling tasked with keeping you safe. But I have limitations. Light being one.”

  Byron. That was the name Mr. Bailey had said out loud when telling someone to protect him. Nice to have a face on the guy…when it wasn’t rotting.

  “Thank you.” Heath then watched the man be pulled into the shadows.

  Well, it looked like he’d only have to hold his breath over the weekend because having a demon watching over him during the night definitely seemed more effective than wishing for a guardian angel at the moment.

  Chapter Two

  What an interesting day. Mason loved Willow for how she handled Detective Williams, and the sneered yes, ma’am had been accompanied by such lovely fear.

  Finally home, Mason sat in the library with a cognac in one hand and a book in the other. Willow sat on her pelt to his left, and ass mutt was, like a good mutt, snoring at his feet.

  Willow held up her book for Mason to see something, so he left his own open in his lap and took it.

  “Do you know if your new apprentice likes dogs?”

  “No, we didn’t have time for that much conversation.”

  “Too bad. He could easily be hired as someone to help you manage the kennel. You are alone with it since the dogs dislike us.”

  Dislike was an understatement, and Mason truly hoped that Heath would assist with the dogs. The book he was shown contained Willow’s notes on future identities, and to make sure not a lot could read them, they were in ancient Greek.

  “So we pull an identity early?” he asked.

  “He’s young enough for it.”

  “I wonder how much he’d allow his features to be changed during the endowment. He said his rapists were connected, but I don’t know how much.”

  “Joey is hunting them, and Sam is digging everything he can find up on the internet.”

  Mason nodded, looking at the identity she’d pointed out. Heath was in his early twenties, yet the identity was only nineteen years old. It would somewhat fit Mason in ten years.

  “I plan on at least one full cycle with him and for his underlings to learn from you as well, so if it’s possible, could you find sibling identities?”

  “So you’re brothers? That could work.”

  Mason’s hungry cock stirred at the thought of the twins. Having been angry when he got home from the police station, Mason had hate-fucked the angry fuck mutt, but after the underlings had started playing with him, there wasn’t a lot of fight left in him. It had been satisfying just the same.

  Byron stepped out of a shadow and knelt, lowering his head. “I have disobeyed you, Master,” he said, timidly.

  Mason handed the book back to Willow, already dreading their planning to be for naught. “What happened? Is it about my apprentice?”

  Byron nodded.

  “Spill!”

  “Yes, Master. He was transferred to county, and I couldn’t get to him before his terror reached a height so delicious. I fed on that even though you told us not to.”

  “Did you induce this terror?”

  “No! I promise! The others…but I stopped him from getting raped. Just shy of it…I wanted it so bad, but I stopped it, I did.”

  “I thought I was clearer in my directions, then. None of you are to induce the terror or pain you can feed from. A rapist in county, of course he’s going to be terrified, and you watching over him will of course put you in the line of energy. But you stopped him from getting seriously hurt. That’s good. Keep that up. I’m not going to punish you for someone else’s doing since y
ou stopped it.”

  “Thank you, Master.” Byron drew a deep breath in relief.

  “Now, go back and keep an eye on him.”

  “Yes, Master. But you should get him out, quickly. It’s the guards letting the prisoners in to take him.” Byron stood and dissolved into a shadow.

  “Oh, hell. Gary, Sam.”

  The underlings entered through the door a few minutes later. “Master.”

  “We need my apprentice out of there, soon. Byron just stopped him from getting raped.”

  “May I suggest you gift that guard to Tonram?” Willow asked.

  “You get such lovely ideas, dear wife.”

  She smiled.

  “But maybe my new apprentice wants him to feed upon. We need a new feeding room.”

  But Mason didn’t like the fact that they’d had the police on their throats within the first three months and that one even knew for a fact that Mason had taken and abused one of the mutts in his kennel. They’d be keeping an eye on Mason no matter what from now on, and with a new handler coming in, who also needed victims, Mason hated this new age even more.

  “We might need a contingency plan in place.”

  “I have several, Master. You can be moved within ten minutes at any given time.” She held up the book. “I’m preparing similar plans for your apprentice as we speak.”

  Mason smiled and caressed her cheek. “I’m so very grateful for your craftiness, you know.”

  She grinned. “I know.”

  Ass mutt stirred and stretched on the floor.

  Mason sat forward. “How’s ass mutt’s ass?”

  “Sore, Master, but very happy that Master put the tail back into it.”