The Apprentice Vol. 1 Page 2

  Gary entered the office again, closing the door behind him. He took the vacated seat across from Mason and drank the lawyer’s club soda. “What a dick.”

  “Too bad Willow favors women. She could have had fun with him.”

  Gary grinned, saying nothing.

  Sam entered, looking fashionably hot, slender, and only twenty-eight years old. “Is Master ready to go home?”

  Mason looked at his watch. And look at the time. “I am. And I’ll soon have an order to place.” He held up the catalog.

  “Oh, splendid,” Sam said. “We hoped our present would bring Master new joys.”

  “I’m sure it will.”

  Spencer had been one dry and not too service minded underling, yet the past four hundred years, and thus forty-so harvest cycles, the underling had finally possessed bodies with less uncooperative souls. Sam was a guy who was really in touch with his feminine side. Mason appreciated the fluidity and balance between the two sides, and he was interested in learning more about what it would bring out in his underling as the low-ranking demons grew and evolved on so many levels every cycle.

  “I’ll get the car.” Gary preceded them from the office, and Sam grabbed Mason’s coat and held it out for him. Always so tentative to all his needs, and when alone, he would do everything for him and still talk about Mason in the third person. Back when he’d gotten Spencer as his personal valet, Mason had been a bit annoyed by it. Now it was just the personality trait of his trusted right-hand underling.

  Chapter Two

  Gary drove the limousine while Sam took Mason through more new papers. He hated the first day of a new harvest cycle because he hated having to find his place in a new persona. Especially as society evolved. He always feared messing up, writing the wrong name on an official document, or forgetting his new name while introducing himself to someone important.

  But Sam was diligent, and Willow had everything down to a T.

  There was one aspect he’d come to enjoy as much as the underlings, though. It was a ritual that helped all of them remember their places even when having to live a façade. Tonight would be their night. Their party. And the underlings always worked hard to find something special for them all to feed upon. A pedophile sounded interesting. At least for the underlings. Without details of the man’s doings, Mason didn’t know whether it was a body he could gain high energy from, or if he’d eventually end up enjoying the enthusiasm of his underlings tearing their food apart.

  They arrived home, and Mason handed Sam the file he’d been memorizing during their drive. He stepped out and looked up at the mansion that was going to be their home for the next ten years. It was perfect for their needs. The grounds were huge, and they all had plenty of room. But the basement was the most important part. Through it, there was a secret passage to the building he’d had them convert into a kennel.

  For the past six months, Severin had worked on getting everything ready for them, and while Mason was busy fucking and getting fucked silly during the harvest, the other underlings had moved everything in. He’d only slept one night in that house so far, and he been too exhausted from the harvest to even remember how he’d gotten there. He hadn’t even seen the feeding room or their special room, Kendrick Hall.

  Living with underling demons had at first been weird, but over the years, he saw them as family and friends. He’d grown close to them. Willow said it was the human in him. They didn’t have the same kinds of feelings toward him but an unyielding sense of loyalty, and they were fiercely protective of him and his well-being. Well, to a point since he couldn’t die. Sterling had proven that early on by skewering him with a fire poker, and Kendrick had gotten up and healed fully before the underlings had taken all their hosts. Before they had, Kendrick had taken Sterling ten times and made him a mutt.

  And that was when the fantasy had been born. His favorite humiliation technique. He’d started having real dogs not long after. He liked dogs. And every harvest cycle, he wanted a special mutt. Sterling had become his special mutt while Mason had called himself Sterling’s apprentice. His intense hate toward the man for what he’d put Kendrick through had somehow bonded them, and he’d since then looked for a human to bond with through torment. Even with Tristan by his side, Mason had had a mutt.

  Had he been sorry to see his special mutts go on to become Tonram’s playthings? No.

  Over the next three harvest cycles, he’d played around with different methods. The dehumanization was still number one, but it also had the drawback that it could break the mutt too quickly.

  Willow came his way as he entered the hall, thus breaking his thoughts.

  He always had those during the first week as if his mind wasn’t happy about all the changes.

  “Hello, dear fiancé.”

  “Good evening, dear fiancée. I can’t wait to call you wife again.”

  She smiled and kissed his cheek.

  He loved the familiarity of it. The routine. It kept him grounded with all the new things of a new cycle. Sam took his coat and hung it, while Mason headed up to the bedroom to change out of his suit and into something less constricting. He then joined Willow in the salon.

  “By the way, I fired the lawyer. He was an ass.”

  Willow chuckled. “Did he spring the prenup on you, too?”

  “Yeah, and he had the audacity to tell me I should get one because I was marrying my secretary.”

  She raised a brow, and her look darkened. Had the lawyer been there, she would have put real fear in him. Mason even fantasized about watching that happen. She was magnificent when doing that.

  “I’ve asked for a new male for you.” Mason turned to put his hands on her shoulders. “We’ll find you your own little assistant for around the house soon enough.”

  Willow beamed. “I already found her.”

  “Yeah? That was quick.”

  “Mm-hmm. The internet is the perfect place to find the ones desperate for attention. They all but wear neon signs for us to come and pick them up.”

  “Where’s she from?”

  “Florida.” She hooked her arm through his and led him to the library. It had continued to be their room, and he smiled at the fact that a book was already lying on the little table along with a brandy and a cup of coffee, the steam piling from it. He’d gotten a much more comfortable chair since she first began teaching him to read in Sterling’s library, and she’d gotten a wolf’s pelt to sit on, still insisting on kneeling at his left every night.

  It was necessary, she said. For her as much as for him, yet he was pretty sure it was the loyalty spell that kept them all kneeling. And the respect he’d earned from them.

  But the fireplace was a must, too.

  He took a seat and sat back with the brandy, cradling the glass and staring into the flames. He loved autumn and winter because it wouldn’t be too hot to have a fire going.

  Willow knelt on the pelt and looked up at him with adoration. It was probably the closest a demon could come to feel for someone. And she adored his ability to feed them—she didn’t adore him for being hot or whatever a fiancée was supposed to sit and think about when looking at her soon-to-be forever like that. And to them, it really was as close to forever as it could possibly be. Even Hadley, now Helena, had had that look on her face many a time, even still, yet it was different.

  “May I go get her a week from now?” Willow asked.

  “How long will you be gone, then?”

  “All day. Joey is helping me with the transport.”

  Mason nodded, slowly. “And the paper trail?”

  “Trust me, I have that covered.”

  That grin. She was up to something. If anything, Willow could look so shrewd, but she had a horrible poker face when it came to trying to surprise Mason with something fun or good. But he trusted her to have everything in order—she was the one taking care of a lot of those details with every cycle, so of course she had it all figured out.

  He nodded and caressed her cheek. “By the way, were you in on choosing my cycle present?”

  “No, I didn’t have time because of the wedding planning.” She looked sorry by the fact.

  “Well, in that case.” Mason couldn’t help his grin as he found the gift card first. She looked mildly intrigued. He then held up the catalog, and the sight of the puppy mask made her gape in happy surprise.

  “Oh, my Lord, they did wonderfully!”

  “Yeah, I think so, too.” Saliva thickened and ran down his chin, but at home and alone, he didn’t fight it or do anything about it. It was the one flaw in how Bakzel had made him. It had become a bit easier to control the stronger he got, and he got a lot stronger every time he took the seed of a Lil-demon during harvest. And the saliva didn’t stain, so Helena didn’t have trouble washing it out. If anything, they could just leave it, and it would evaporate on its own, leaving no visible trace after about a day. But being hungry always made it more difficult to control.

  “We have found you a special first-night rape,” Willow said, running a finger through the viscous fluid on his stomach.

  “Gary already blew the whistle on that one. I’m excited to see what I can get from him.” It was always exciting when they sprang someone on him like that. Bust or success, those were just the terms. And bust merely meant the underlings got someone to feed upon.

  “I see that. The catalog is a good appetizer, then, huh?”

  “Yeah, I’m going to have to look into this fetish. I’ve never heard about it before.”

  “Show me,” she urged.

  Mason flipped through the pages, and there was a lot more than just cool things for his next special mutt. And paw bags for the hands. “These could be fun.”

  She giggled. “I imagine you’re going to sit and watch them try to
eat with one of those tails up their asses and those bags on their hands, right?”

  “Of course I am. I might even get their bowels engraved. Mutt one, Mutt two, Daddy’s Special Mutt.” Mason’s senses began homing in on his surroundings, and he’d felt that enough times to know that it was definitely time to feed. He’d hoped he could hold off until their harvest dinner.

  Willow, as always, didn’t miss a beat. “Go get a snack.” She looked up at the clock on the mantle. “You have three hours.”

  “I’ll definitely need it then.” He finished his brandy and left his catalog for later studying. He was looking forward to exploring the kennel that Seth had been building so much, so he hurried to the basement and found the secret passage.

  He’d only seen pictures, and then the kennel had just been a big warehouse kind of structure with nothing in it. As he emerged from the tunnel, Seth had outdone himself. Cage upon cage lined both sides of the space he walked into, and it was the incubus playpen judging by the two pieces of furniture to strap an unwilling body to—one being the ever-evolving yet mandatory ass rack. As far as he could hear, the dogs layered the outsides. Straight ahead, two Rottweilers were jumping, happy to see him.

  “Hi, boys!”

  “Help!” someone shouted.

  Mason looked to his left, and in the first cage stood a man in his late thirties, dirty and in torn clothes, gripping the bars and looking terrified. “Now, how did you end up in there?”

  “Some psycho chased me through the streets. He kidnapped me! Please, let me out!” The man gripped the padlock, yanking at it. “Can you unlock this?”

  “Of course I can, I have the key right here.” Mason pulled it from his pocket.

  “Then hurry up before he gets back! We need to call the police.”

  “No, that would be counter-productive.”

  The man stopped and stared at Mason like he wasn’t getting what he was saying.

  Seth sauntered into the space reserved for Mason’s mutts.

  “That’s him!” the man shouted, pointing.

  “Master, his file.” Seth held out the folder.

  Mason took it, glancing at the gaping man as he looked for the relevant information. “She withdrew her accusation, huh? Lucky you.”

  “Just a lover’s quarrel. She overreacted. How the hell did you get my file? Who are you?”

  “I’m your master,” Mason said, still looking through the file, but he was also tapping into the incubus to sense what energies were to be taken from the man’s body.

  “The fuck you are, weirdo!”

  Finally, Mason closed the file and turned to watch the man, letting his demonic attributes work. “Oh, you definitely raped her.”

  “She retracted it!”

  “Doesn’t change the fact that you raped her.” His mind finally let the input filter through, and he saw how best to rape the man. Angrily and violently. There was not the kind of humiliation he loved the most, though, just the exertion of punishment, entitlement, possessiveness, and pain. “Hmm,” Mason mumbled, “He’s not prized mutt material.”

  “I’m sorry, Master,” Seth said, bowing his head in defeat.

  “That’s okay. It’s early in the new harvest cycle, and we know it takes time to build a premium kennel.”

  “So why did you lock me up here?” the man asked.

  “Take off your clothes,” Mason said, handing the file back to Seth.

  “What? You’re insane!”

  Mason looked around, not happy that his dogs could see him. Or Seth, since it set their teeth on flashy mode. “Can they be covered?”

  “Oh, yes, Master, I made a moving wall.” Seth pointed up, and Mason saw a slide. “It was in case you got so many dogs that you wanted to move the mutts.” Seth ran off, and soon after, tall wooden blinders came together and closed off the playpen.

  Mason nodded, impressed, and continued his first impression of his playpen, this time finding the end wall covered by a huge red curtain. “What’s that?”

  “I figured it could be fun as a…visual aid.” Seth smiled and ran to the curtain. He pulled it aside, and all Mason’s fun toys hung neatly in rows.

  “Aw, hell no!” the guy shouted and backed away from the bars.

  The man’s fear tickled Mason’s nose, and his saliva grew thicker as hunger closed in on him and awoke the incubus fully.

  “Something’s seriously wrong with you, man!” the man shouted, his voice pitching from fear.

  “Never promised you there wasn’t.”

  Since the man wouldn’t be a mutt, Mason wondered which of his underlings would enjoy assisting him.

  “How was the hunt, Joey?”

  “Magnificent. Three hours of him running scared.”

  “Very good. Sam!”

  They waited for Sam to arrive, which only took about ten seconds. A time which Mason used to take in the sight of the man. He was well built, and his hands looked like that of a handy worker of some sort. A strong man that was almost as tall as Mason. He’d be brave once the cell door opened. But man was he in for a surprise if he thought he was any match for a demonically endowed human with forty cycles of energy behind him.

  “Master asked for me?” Sam stopped next to him.

  “I’m going to have some angry punishment sex. And some pain. A good beating. Would you like to assist?”

  “Yes, Master, thank you.”

  “Oh, come on! You can’t be fucking serious! Who put you up to this, huh? Is this some elaborate joke?”

  “Odd how people always reach that conclusion before anything else,” Mason mused out loud. “Is it because your brain can’t go there?” Mason pointed to the wall. “Let me help you out. Take off. Your. Fucking. Clothes. Or I’ll break this in.” He held out his hand, not looking that way, and Sam came over and handed him something. A glance at his youthful face revealed a wide grin.

  Mason held up the instrument. A cane.

  “I just love the welts it makes, and Master has really perfected his technique since his first time.”

  “I thought we found it fitting for harvest dinner because of my first feeding?” There had been something poetic about that, except Mason was slightly disappointed that this wasn’t a mutt to be. The memory of Sebastien handing him the cane as he fed for the first time born into a cycle made him smile. Sam had then announced it the poetic beauty of a new ritual, and he’d since always broken it in at harvest dinner.

  Sam smiled. “Does Master approve?”

  “He approves,” Mason said.

  “You’re insane,” the guy said, but he was no longer shouting. He was somewhere between denial and oh shit, this is really happening.

  “And you’re still dressed. Never mind, I’ll undress you myself.” Mason handed the cane back to Sam, who clutched it and followed. Seth unlocked the door, and, as Mason had expected, the man attacked as soon as Mason stepped inside. A few punches hit their mark, but Mason merely grabbed the guy’s arms by the wrists and flung him out the door to roll across the floor with too much speed behind it for the man to be able to control his direction. He hit the cells on the opposite side with a pained umph.

  Undressing his upper body as he closed the distance, Mason made a plan for the best approach. And he was angry. The guy had some nerve attacking him in his own fucking house. His dogs seemed to think so, too, because the entire kennel was in an uproar. Nothing new there during feeding.

  The man came enough to his senses to notice Mason coming at him, and he scrambled to get away. Not that there were any places to go. “How did you do that?”

  “Didn’t you hear me before? You belong to me now, and you will learn to show me respect.”

  Fear rose, and Mason’s saliva grew thicker. Sam pranced alongside with the cane, ready to hand it to Mason when he held out his hand again. But first, he had to undress the bastard who thought speaking to Mason in that tone was okay. He had a cock to get wet, and the bastard stayed dressed.

  The guy kicked and flailed his arms as Mason got to him, and Mason would definitely bruise on his thigh…for a few minutes…where the man’s heel made an impact during the struggle.

  “When I tell you to do something, you do it.” Mason tore at the man’s clothes, ripping the already raggedy garments completely off. Jeans were still a strong material, and it caused some pained cries to escape the guy as the material grated his hips.