Bey 
This weekend only get the entire Baal's Heart series at a fraction of the price
Caged: Love and Treachery on the High Seas: FREE (global)
Sacrificed: Heart Beyond the Spires: $1.99/£0.99 (US/UK)
Fated: Blood and Redemption: $1.99/£0.99 (US/UK)
Careened: Winter Solstice in Madierus: $0.99/£0.99 (US/UK - this one's not on sale)
Author’s Note:
This is an unedited, ongoing serial that will eventually be published in novel form. Plot/characters/elements are subject to change as it is being written. It’s currently in 1st person/present tense, but I may change it to past tense, excluding the first chapter which will act as an intro. Read at your own discretion and take note of story tags below.
Genre: Post-Apocalyptic sci-fi
Tags: prostitution, graphic sex, large age gap, violence, theft, drug/alcohol abuse, depression, rape, gang rape, cannibalism, murder, incest, child/infant death and abuse, general abuse, (more to be added as the story goes)
Apple won’t meet my eye as he moves around the room packing his few belongings.
“You can’t be serious,” I say, laughing. “Turk’s just looking to make a few bucks off your ass.”
He stops and glares at me before resuming. “He says he loves me,” he replies, his tone high and annoyed. I look over at Pytre. The ex-Rimer just looks confused.
I snort, shaking my head. “I call bullshit.”
“He’s going to marry me,” Apple says, jamming a pair of pants into his rucksack. “And he’s getting me breasts for my birthday.”
Brow deeply furrowed, I stare at Apple—I’m not passing judgment, I’m just surprised. “I… didn’t know you wanted any.” I’m not the best at figuring these things out, but from the look on Apple’s face, I get the feeling that he hadn’t known he wanted them either.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me. It’s not like you ask me anything.”
He’s right, but I say, “I know your birthday’s next month.” I can’t remember the exact date.
“You only know that because it’s on the deed of ownership,” Apple shoots back, and I glance over at Pytre who raises his brows at me. Apple laughs. “Oh? You didn’t know I’m his sex-slave?”
Pytre looks at Apple then back at me and I wave him off. “No, he’s not a sex-slave.”
It’s Apple’s turn to snort and he turns his back to me, stuffing a shirt I recognize as mine into his bag. He can have it.
“I think you’re making a mistake,” I say.
“What do you care?” Apple flashes me a look over his shoulder.
Why do I care? With Apple gone, it’s a hell of a lot easier to get Pytre and me off this rock… But, what is this I’m feeling? I’m angry… wait, is that… jealousy? Resentment? I clear my throat and shake my head. “I don’t.”
I can’t put my finger on the expression that flits across Apple’s handsome face, but it’s not a happy one. I feel like an asshole—but, what about the way he “thanked” me last night? He knew he was going to ditch us and waited until the last minute to say anything. There it is again… that uncomfortable, hot feeling in my guts. The truth is staring at me in the face: I don’t want him to go. Fuck me if I can actually say it though.
“Take care of yourself,” I offer instead, holding out my hand.
Apple’s expression goes wary for a second, then he gives me a smile that doesn’t go near those pretty, mixed-up eyes of his. He takes my hand and we shake… then he’s gone.
“Why didn’t you tell him you wanted him to stay?” asks Pytre.
I ignore him and grab the hose attachment from the storage unit, heading to the showers so I can blast out my insides. With Apple gone, looks like I’m back to being the sole breadwinner.
Fucking great.
+++
It’s almost morning by the time I get back to the hostel. I open the door as quietly as I can, but I see the light’s still on. Looking around the newly tidied room, I figure Pytre never went to bed. Sure enough, when he looks up as I come in, I see he’s got dark circles under his eyes.
“You should be sleeping.”
“So should you,” he replies quietly.
I shrug, undoing the metal clips on my vest, my right hand weak with fatigue. It was a slow night—one blow job and three hand jobs. Another night like this and we’ll be homeless. As soon as I get a little shuteye, I’ll go see Drenner about changing rooms again to something smaller.
I settle down on the empty cot, slapping the light off before I get comfortable. Pytre’s eyes are on me in the dark, I can feel it. Rubbing my face, I shake my head slowly, annoyed and exhausted and embarrassed.
“What?”
“I just want to know why?” Pytre’s voice is so quiet, the end of the question is just a sigh.
“Why what?”
“Why don’t you do something else for money?”
“Like what?” I turn to face him—all I can see is his silhouette against the pale metal wall.
“Anything else.”
“Like what?” My tone’s harsh but I can’t help it. Apple’s desertion’s left me on edge and I’m touchy and tired and would love to pickle my brain in whiskey tonight, but I can’t, so sleep will have to do for now. If I’m lucky, I won’t even dream.
It takes a few seconds for Pytre to answer. “You were a soldier. Why not be a bodyguard? They’re as much in need as… uh… what you’re doing.”
“Whoring? Fucking for funds? Cocksucking for credits?”
“I’m sorry. I’ll let you sleep,” Pytre says, finally figuring out I’m in no mood for a little chat. However, a minute or two after I’ve turned over to the other side, I open my mouth again.
“I won’t touch a gun… can’t kill anyone else.” I frown, eyes closed.
He doesn’t answer so I assume he didn’t hear my confession… but then he says, “Okay.”
+++
The room is empty when I wake up a few hours later. There’s a note on my comm pad:
I can’t watch you do this to yourself.
I sit back down on my cot and stare at the words, numb. Well, fuck. Alone again. I’m better at being alone… aren’t I? I erase Pytre’s note and swallow hard, blinking a few times to clear the dust from my eyes, then I lie back down. It’s still early and I don’t like working in daylight. Maybe it’s because the dark makes everything easier to stomach. I don’t know.
I must have fallen asleep because when the door creaks open, I sit up with a gasp, only half aware that I’m reaching for the sidearm I haven’t carried in decades. The figure sharpens in my vision once it steps over the threshold and I breathe out a sigh. It’s Pytre.
“Changed your mind?” I say, embarrassed by how relieved I sound. He stops in his tracks, fixing me with a look of confusion and I realize I might have misunderstood his note. I rake my hand through my hair, clear my throat, and gesture to the box he’s carrying. “What’s that?”
“A solution to our money problems,” Pytre answers, setting the box down on the floor between the cots. He lifts the lid.
“Holy shit, padre. Where do you find them?” I say, lifting out a bottle of Rimer’s chartreuse.
“There’s a chapter here in town. I paid them a visit.” Pytre smiles—it’s not quite genuine, but neither is it fragile like it was before.
“But… you renounced your vows.”
“They don’t know that.” The grin stretches wider and Pytre seems proud of himself. “I would have taken more bottles, too, except… I was afraid to drop them.”
I’m up off the cot and have my arms around the young man before he can react, pulling him into a rough hug. He’s saved our asses, mine literally, and I feel like luck is finally on our side. I’m so distracted by my own gladness that it takes a few seconds to realize Pytre’s gone still and stiff in my arms. I release him immediately and step back.
“Sorry.”
“That’s all right.” His cheeks are very pink, and his eyes are glassy as he looks away. I can’t help but wonder, after the shit he's been through, if I’ll ever be able to touch him—platonically or otherwise—without causing him pain. “The next launch is in five days,” he says softly. “You know, we’ll have more than enough for three tickets.”
I don’t answer right away. Then I nod.
+++
The setting sun is the same bright, sickly yellow it always is, but it feels hotter than usual. A huge dust devil whirls down the center of Launch Drive and Pytre and I duck into an alley to wait for it to pass. I’m trying not to hold onto any real hope that Apple will join us, but if my hunch is right about Turk… well, I can’t imagine the lad would want to stay here.
Sure enough, three streets down, I spot a familiar figure in a doorway. Apple’s slouching against the railing, his head down. He’s wearing a pair of bright orange pants with a clear panel over his groin and nothing else. As we approach, he looks up, then quickly turns his head, his posture tense.
“Come home,” I say, surprising myself. I don’t know what I’d meant to lead with, but that wasn’t it. However, it does get Apple to face me again, his jaw set and expression defensive. His eyes are brightly decorated with garish blue makeup and his lips are smeared in sparkling fuchsia. I’m not normally into that sort of thing, but it looks great on the kid. I open my mouth again to say something, but I’m stumped on the approach I should take. I don’t want to say “I told you so” but everything that comes to mind is along those lines.
Thankfully, Pytre rescues me.
“We’re leaving in four days. There’s a ticket for you if you’d like it,” Pytre says, his voice gentle and expression serene. Almost like his old self, though I know he’s forcing it.
“Turk and I got married this morning,” Apple says, his eyes flicking to me. “So I am home.”
“Isn’t it him you’re supposed to fuck on your wedding night?” I say, unable to stop myself from being cruel.
Shame flashes across Apple’s face, but he lifts his chin. “He’s going to take good care of me.”
I tamp down on my anger, shaking my head. “You stupid boy…”
“You’re the stupid one, old man. You and your stupid guilt and stupid sob story and stupid tiny cock.”
I laugh, a hollow, harsh sound. There's no sting in the gibe about my dick-size but I gesture to his outfit where his own obviously drug-hardened cock sits framed behind clear vinyl like an offering.
“Just look at you. He’s going to sell your ass every chance he gets… and you’re never going to see a fucking credit—” Pytre surprises me by putting a hand on my forearm. The touch calms me.
“This isn’t the way to do it,” Pytre says softly to me, dropping his hand. He looks up at Apple and raises his voice so the boy can hear him. “Four days. We’ll buy a ticket for you, regardless.” Then he pulls me away from the steps. “Come on.”
Apple crosses his arms over his chest and looks the other way as we leave.
“He’s embarrassed,” says Pytre. “And angry about his situation. I think he’ll come around.”
“He's a stubborn little shit.”
“Well, if he doesn’t, you can always force him to come with us without him losing face,” Pytre adds with a shrug.
“How’s that?”
“Technically, you still own him, correct?”
“Yeah.”
“Then his marriage isn’t legally binding.”
"I hadn't thought of that." I say. I know Pytre's only doing this because he thinks he knows how I feel. And maybe he's right. "Thank you."
This time, Pytre's smile is sincere... if a little sad.
Author’s Note:
This is an unedited, ongoing serial that will eventually be published in novel form. Plot/characters/elements are subject to change as it is being written. It’s currently in 1st person/present tense, but I may change it to past tense, excluding the first chapter which will act as an intro. Read at your own discretion and take note of story tags below.
Genre: Post-Apocalyptic sci-fi
Tags: prostitution, graphic sex, large age gap, violence, theft, drug/alcohol abuse, depression, rape, gang rape, cannibalism, murder, incest, child/infant death and abuse, general abuse, (more to be added as the story goes)
“So, who is he?”
Finally. I look over at Pytre. He’s lying on his cot, staring at the ceiling like I’ve been doing for the past hour. “Remember the Gulchtown boy-whore?” I ask.
Slowly, Pytre turns to face me, his hazel eyes wide. “How is he alive?”
I figure he means the withdrawal and rapid aging. I think about all the cock-sucking and decide to keep my mouth shut. “I don’t know.”
“He should be dead.”
“Yeah.”
A few seconds click by and I try not to squirm under Pytre’s shrewd gaze.
“What is he to you?”
Well, technically Apple’s my property, seeing as how I bought him and all, but I’m not sure that’s what Pytre wants to hear. “We travel together,” I say gruffly. “And what about you? How are you still alive?” I think about the cannibals and add, “because of the drug, I mean. Isn’t it the same as Apple’s?”
“His name is Apple?” Pytre’s somber expression finally cracks for the first time in days and he lets out a little laugh.
I smile at him. “Yeah. Stupid name.”
“Poor kid.” Pytre shakes his head with another soft chuckle. He shrugs. “I’m not on any drugs.”
I frown, confused. “You’re... not?”
“No.”
“You said you were.”
“I did not. As I recall, I stated that the Disciples of Rime and the whores of Gulchtown take something similar. I never said I did.”
I wipe my hand over my mouth, staring at him. I’d been assuming all along that he could possibly be as old as thirty… But then Ghest had been forty and looked like a wizened, crusty old man-child. Pytre is still a fresh-faced teen. I feel uncomfortable and look away.
“Sorry, I just figured...”
“I’m nineteen.”
Alright so he is older than he looks, but not by much. “Ok.”
“At least I think I am. I came wandering into the compound when I was just barely walking age, they said,” Pytre murmurs. I look over again and see he’s got his eyes closed. “A one-year-old, alone in the wastelands. They searched for a week for my parents and found no trace. I was a miracle... given to them by Rime himself, they said. Maybe Rime reborn.” He laughed. “What a crock of shit.”
My frown deepens. I’m no believer, and it is a crock of shit, but it bothers me hearing Pytre talk this way.
“They raised you.” Would account for what I had perceived was a long life of worship. Hard not to absorb some of that serenity when you’re fed it from age one. I wish Pytre could find a little of that serenity now. I have no idea what to say to take the hurt away.
“They did, yes.”
Again, we lapse into uncomfortable silence. We’re saved by the door banging open and Apple trudging in, his jaws parted in a cavernous yawn. He sees me lying on the second cot and sighs dramatically. “No, no, don’t get up. Really. It’s not like I’m the only one working these days.” He leans over and yanks the pillow out from under my head. He throws it down, kicking dirty clothes out of the way, and stretches out on his back on the hard floor. He’s wearing a bright-green sleeveless jumpsuit, open to just above his groin. A patch of crinkly blond hair is visible above the zipper. Sighing, he folds his hands behind his head and closes his eyes. “Actually, I’ve been bent over backwards for the better part of an hour. This feels nice.”
“Turk again?”
His eyes snap open and he shoots me a look that’s either defensive or nervous. “Yeah, why?”
“Aren’t worried your ass is going to fall out?”
“My ass is just fine.” He frowns and looks away.
I’ve been assuming the way he’s been acting the past few days is because of Pytre, but maybe it’s something else. I look over at Pytre and he’s gone back to staring at the ceiling.
“Did you pay the water bill?” I ask Apple. We’re down to one jug of potable water.
“No.” Apple’s forehead wrinkles up and he lifts himself up on his elbows, staring hard at me. “Turnbull said to say he knows who you are, and we can get our water elsewhere. But he didn’t say it so nice as that.”
“Fuck.” I rub my face.
“What the hell does he mean?”
“It’s nothing,” I say, shaking my head. Maybe Pytre’ll be well enough to secure a new source of water tomorrow. He’s got an honest face and I have to stop showing mine if we want to stay alive. “Never mind.”
“I wanna know.”
“Go the fuck to sleep,” I growl.
“Asher hasn’t told you who he is?” Pytre asks.
“Who’s Asher?” Apple asks, turning to the Rimer.
The look on Pytre’s face is almost comically confused. “He is,” he says, gesturing to me.
Apple’s mismatched eyes find me again. I can’t help but laugh. It never occurred to me to tell him my name.
“Cael Asher,” I say.
Apple studies me for a few seconds and turns back to Pytre. “Why’d he tell you his name?” His tone is peevish.
“He didn’t have to. He’s well known.” Pytre smiles at me. “He’s the man who saved the human race.”
I scoff and turn over in the cot, facing away. I have half a mind to leave, but if Pytre’s going to give Apple a history lesson, I should stay here and make sure he gets the facts straight.
“Then, why do they spit in his food?” Apple asks.
“Because he couldn’t save all of them,” Pytre says quietly. “What do you know of the last days of Earth?”
“Only a little bit. My people weren’t from Earth.”
“Of course, your people were from Earth. You’re human, stupid…” I mumble, eyes closed.
“Bertchel says I weren’t born there and neither was the whore that whelped me,” Apple replies, sounding annoyed, but a few seconds later he adds, “So, what happened to Earth?”
“About forty years ago, something called a ‘catastrophic climate event’ happened on Earth. No one knows exactly what triggered it, but there was no stopping it. The world was ending,” Pytre tells him. “No one could decide what to do and no one could agree when Doomsday was. The world was in chaos.”
My eyes are shut tight now and I’m trying to keep the memories from getting their hooks into me. Half the planet was in flames by the time the World Government collapsed. Sometimes, when I’m overtired, the smell of a campfire makes my hands shake and my bladder feel real weak. I see burning bodies in my dreams.
“Corporal Asher and a dozen soldiers seized control of a buildyard where there were finished colony ships just sitting there empty. He got them fueled up and sent out a message: We are leaving the world.”
I swallow and cross my arms, gritting my teeth. I’d been only a year older than Pytre when I stood before that swelling crowd of hopefuls. Somehow in all the mayhem I’d found clarity and purpose. We couldn’t wait for a failed government to save us. We had to save ourselves.
“People started arriving. Little by little at first, then by the busload,” I say quietly, taking over the story. I don’t bother turning to face them. I don't want them to see the pain I know is plastered all over my face. “There were tents as far as the eye could see… too many people for twenty-nine ships. We barred the gates to the buildyard, but they kept coming, right over the razor wire.” I frown, thinking about the disorder and confusion of those last days. “People were killing each other over food and space. A platoon arrived, Marines… they tried to retake the ships, but the people just tore them limb from limb. Half the Leaders of the World Government were telling us to wait, the other half wanted me in front of a firing squad. Some of the colonies were vowing to keep us from ever reaching their orbits.
“Then... the earthquakes got worse. Six ships were lost when the ground collapsed beneath them... lost about a thousand people too, maybe more. We couldn't wait any longer… so we had a lottery.” I shake my head slowly. That had wasted so much goddamn time. “I took forty thousand with me. I left the rest to burn.”
The silence is dense in our small hostel room, then I hear the other cot creak and feel Pytre’s hand land softly on my shoulder.
“The human race owes you a debt.”
“What if I left too soon? What if I could have taken more?”
“What do you mean?” asks Apple. “Sounds like you got out of there, nicky-time-like.”
“There’s no way to tell if the world did end, or if I pulled the trigger too soon.” I open my eyes and turn onto my back. I never burden anyone with the shit in my head—why the fuck am I doing it now? “Too many ships passing through the wormhole collapsed it. There’s no way back. What if I was wrong? What if Earth was around for another month? Another half-year? We could have built more ships. Could have saved more.” The loadmaster had said the same thing, over and over, until he let himself out the airlock one night.
Pytre’s mouth twitches to the side and he shakes his head, his expression sympathetic. “Like you said, there’s no way to know. You know you did the right thing… besides, could the colonies have supported more than what you brought with you?”
I curl my lip at him. “That’s bullcrap and you know it.”
“Sorry… I don’t know what to say and I’m afraid if I quote Rime you’re going to punch me.”
I blink. I’d as soon cut off my balls than lay a hand on Pytre, but Apple decides then to put in his two credits.
“The past is dead… why’re you still fucking a corpse?”
Eyebrows raised, I look over at Apple. He’s sitting cross-legged next to Pytre on the other cot, his chin on his fists and his blond curls shadowing his eyes. Blocking out the past is probably the only thing that gets him up in the mornings—I can’t imagine his life has been anything short of a nightmare.
“You saved the humans. Yippee…” he says in a flat voice, then gives me a little grin. “Did you get a shiny medal?”
I shake my head, but Pytre does the honours for me. “When they arrived, the colonial council stripped him of his rank, citizenship, and sentenced him to two hundred years hard labour in the asteroid mines.”
Apple whistles low. “Ouch. But… I thought you saved the human race?”
“In light of that feat, they reduced the sentence. I did thirty years.” Thirty years digging tungsten out of a crater in the dark, alone except for the stars and the hiss of oxygen in my ears. Feels like a dream now.
“That’s not fair,” Apple says, his expression subdued.
“It’s not,” I agree. “They should have put a bullet between my eyes.”
Pytre and Apple share a glance and I sigh, sitting up. I scratch the back of my head and shrug. “Now you know why they spit in my food.” I roll my shoulders, feeling stiff. “Best you two get some shuteye. I’ll go deal with the water situation.”
+++
An hour later, I’m back at the hostel having secured enough water rations for a week. I don’t like dealing with off-market water merchants—who knows if we'll get sick drinking the crap they sell—but it’s not like we have a lot of choice at this point.
I key in the code and push open the door to see that both Pytre and Apple are fast asleep on their respective cots, leaving me the floor. With a sigh, I pull off my dusty jacket then unlace my boots, stretching out on the cold grey laminate. I’m exhausted, but not tired, so I lie there trying to clear my thoughts.
After a while, I feel like I’m being watched—I look over and see that Apple is awake. He stares at me for a few seconds, his face devoid of expression, then quietly gets out of bed. I frown as he undoes the rest of the zipper on the green jumpsuit and lets it fall to the floor. Naked, he stands over me and I’m surprised to see that his dick is hard.
I glance over at Pytre as Apple straddles my thighs. The Rimer is dead asleep but Apple reaches over my head and taps the light, dimming it further.
“What are you doing?” I mouth. Of their own accord, my hands find Apple’s pert backside. He sighs softly and arches back as I squeeze his warm flesh. He feels good. Just as I’m about to open my mouth to ask Apple again what he’s up to, he leans forward and presses his lips to mine. For a moment I don’t do anything, but he moves his mouth insistently, his hands around the back of my neck, and I can’t help but let him in. I close my eyes, tentatively moving my own tongue against his as he settles his weight on me. I don’t remember the last time I kissed like this. I let him breathe for me for a bit and my tongue gets bolder. Apple tastes like lemon for some reason. It's sort of nice.
My dick is waking up, but it’s as confused as I am. This isn’t fucking… this feels like that other thing that people do. That word that I won’t use because I have no business saying it.
Apple pulls back to look down at me, his eyes sparkling in the dark. He’s breathing as hard as I am. I move my hands, stroking them up his back, his skin so smooth against my hands. I like the feel of his nakedness on me. Experimentally, I scratch his back lightly and I’m rewarded with a hushed groan—I remember I’ve done this to someone before, long ago. My hands take over, rusty muscle memory at best, and slide down his back, cup his buttocks, squeeze, then rake his thighs gently with my nails again. He sits up straighter, rocking his pelvis, so I shift my hands to his waist, thumbs stroking his taut belly, then slide my palms up his chest. His nipples are hard between my fingers and when I give them a good pinch, he gasps quietly. I want to kiss him again, take my time with it, but his hands are at my belt and in a matter of seconds, he’s freed my cock.
Panting, I’m running my hands up and down his thighs—distracted, involuntary movements because my entire focus is on Apple spitting on his fingers and reaching back, his eyes half lidded. He’s up on his knees, one hand around the base of my cock to guide it, and pauses with a smile… then he sinks down, his ass swallowing my dick down to the balls in one smooth motion. Fucking hell, that’s sweet. I close my eyes, stifling a moan, and breathe out slowly, savouring the feeling of my cock buried deep. When I look up, he’s staring down at me, his expression somber, unreadable. He slips his hands beneath the hem of my shirt and strokes them up my belly, his fingers raking through the thick, greying hair there and up onto my pecs… then he starts to move. My hands find his waist again and I can feel the rhythmic rolling of his hips and pelvis as he rises and falls, fucking me at an unhurried pace.
My heart is beating so fast I’m breathless—he rises up to pause with just the tip of my dick threatening to slip out, and I groan, pulling him down so I can bury myself back to the hilt inside his slick hole. My chest starts to hurt, and for a second I’m worried that I’m having a heart attack.
Hey, it’s not a bad way to go, blowing my last load into a good-looking kid like Apple—but the pain passes and I chalk it up to how hard I’m tensing… the pace is so slow it’s a tease, and I need more. I grab the back of his neck and pull him down, eagerly kissing him again as he opens his lips to meet mine, and I take over the pace, thrusting up into him hard until he’s gasping the air right out of my lungs and the slap of skin-on-skin is loud enough that I worry it will wake Pytre.
At the last second, I turn my head, breaking away from Apple’s hungry mouth, and clench my teeth as I empty my balls inside him, biting back a deep groan of pleasure. Shit, when was the last time I felt this good? Maybe never. The aftershocks jerk my legs out straight and I’m twitching and shuddering beneath Apple, trying to catch my breath as he smiles down at me.
His dick is still hard, but he hasn’t cum yet. Can’t have that.
I sit up, arms looping through his to coax him backwards onto the floor and I lay beside him, kissing him for a bit. My hand strokes his shaft and up over the head to catch the dribble of precum, using it to swipe my thumb back and forth over his banjo string, before returning to a firm grip to start all over again. I know I’m pretty good at this.
“You’re driving me crazy, old man,” I hear him whisper. Grinning, I keep playing with his dick a while, teasing him until he’s trembling and covered in a sheen of sweat. I kiss him again, breathing in those raspy breaths for a moment, then move down his body, kissing and nibbling—first his neck, then a nipple between my teeth and I bite harder. Apple makes a sharp noise and I can’t tell if he’s objecting or enjoying it, but I don’t linger to find out. My mouth finds the head of his dick and I lap up the salty drop at its tip before rubbing my lips over the smooth skin.
Apple’s hips twist and his pelvis jerks up, his desire making him greedy, so I slide my finger into his ass at the same time as I suck down his cock—he lets out a quiet whimper, bucking his hips again as my finger slips further into his cum-slick hole to tickle his prostate. I feel the head of his cock swell in my mouth and he’s shaking so hard it’s almost like he’s vibrating, so I push a second finger inside him and press on his gland, my tongue and lips working him faster now.
It doesn't take long. Apple gasps and my mouth fills with his seed, salty and bitter, and I swallow it down as his ass clenches down over my knuckles. Drawing back when his body goes limp, I swallow again and pull my fingers out of him. His eyes are closed and he’s smiling from ear to ear. After a minute or so, he cracks an eyelid, finding me in the dim light. His smile slips.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
There’s something funny about the way he says it, like he’s thanking me for more than taking care of his dick. “Don’t mention it.”
“I mean it,” Apple says. Then he sits up and kisses me again, but this time it’s a quiet kiss, and for some reason that worries me.
“Ok,” I say awkwardly when he pulls away.
His forehead wrinkles up as he stares at me with those striking eyes, then his expression shifts into its usual combination of sass and good humour. “But, you know, a good blow-job doesn’t mean you get the bed,” Apple says with a wink. He climbs on to the cot, still naked and collapses on his stomach.
“Right.” I sigh and stretch out again on the floor, tucking my dick back into my pants. Pytre is still fast asleep, his breathing deep and measured, and I’m glad he missed… whatever that was.
Bemused, I close my eyes—I can’t tell whether I’d like a repeat or if I’d like to forget it ever happened.
From March 15-17, Caged: Love and Treachery on the High Seas is FREE at Amazon!
(pro tip: get it for free and tack on the spectacularly narrated Audible book for less!)
Author’s Note:
This is an unedited, ongoing serial that will eventually be published in novel form. Plot/characters/elements are subject to change as it is being written. It’s currently in 1st person/present tense, but I may change it to past tense, excluding the first chapter which will act as an intro. Read at your own discretion and take note of story tags below.
Genre: Post-Apocalyptic sci-fi
Tags: prostitution, graphic sex, large age gap, violence, theft, drug/alcohol abuse, depression, rape, gang rape, cannibalism, murder, incest, child/infant death and abuse, general abuse, (more to be added as the story goes)
By the time Pytre is done eating, his lap is buried under a pile of discarded plasti-form wrappings. Frankly I’m amazed by how much he just put away.
“Full?” I ask, thinking again about the dwindling credit situation.
Pytre covers his mouth and lets out a loud belch, then gives me a shy smile. “Yes, thank you.”
The silence stretches on, and I feel awkward as hell. My eyes fall on his bruised knuckles and I look up, jerking my chin towards the bruises on his face. “Wanna talk about it?”
Pytre gets a real haunted look in his eyes and swallows.
“That’s fine,” I say, shrugging. “You don’t—“
“I left the sanctuary right after you did, like I said. I stopped in Gulchtown and asked around about you but no one knew where you were headed. I almost gave up right then.” Pytre looks down at his hands. “I didn’t really plan things well. I had barely any credits to my name. Didn’t even think to bring any Chartreuse with me to trade. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He sighs. “Then I had a stroke of luck. The bartender at the Butter Churn said you mentioned heading east. So I went east. That night I got mugged by two men. They pointed a gun at me and I transferred all my credits to them.”
“They give you that?” I say, gesturing to my own eye.
He looks up. The short, bitter laugh startles me. “Oh no. That first night was nothing compared to what happened after.” He takes a few deep breaths, and I see he's shaking. Should I hold him? Something tells me no. “I met a man and his daughter on the stone road. They were travelling to Zarabetha to get married.” Pytre makes a face and shrugs. “The man had some pistols and the girl had a big Bowie knife. I figured if I went with them, I’d be better off than by myself. Protection, you know? But… I didn’t like having to hear… things. Between them. You, know… at night.”
I give him a sympathetic nod. Incest is perfectly legal here, or should I say, not illegal. Nothing is. It’s a wonder people manage to live out whole lives on this shitty, lawless moon.
“I figured maybe you’d stop in Zarabetha too. Maybe I’d catch up with you, or at least find out something about where you could be headed.” Pytre stares down at his hands again, shredding the side of a plasti-form wrapper. “After a week, we were attacked by a group of… I don't know—monsters? They were men, but only in the physical sense. They killed the father first. Did it quick… but they took their time with the girl.” Pytre’s bottom lip trembles and when he speaks again, his voice is so quiet I can barely hear him. “They cut her belly open when they were done. Threw something at me and I caught it. Instinctively, you know?” Pytre mimes catching something in both hands, blinks rapidly and a few tears splash down on his raised palms. “It was a tiny baby. No... not really a baby yet.” He’s crying freely now and my gut twists in anger for what he’s suffered. “I fumbled and dropped it in the dust. That poor little baby. I don’t even know if it was alive. One of them stomped on it and then punched me in the head. I think I was unconscious after that. They hit me a lot.”
He touches his bruises. His hand is trembling.
I want to tell him the baby was probably already dead—few women carry to term here, and that's not even factoring in the inbreeding—but I don’t know how that would cheer him.
“How did you get away?”
When he meets my gaze again, his eyes go flat. “I didn’t. Not for weeks.”
I frown, waiting for him to explain. The roaming gangs in the wastelands aren’t the type to spare anyone.
“I told them I was a Disciple of Rime and they laughed, but I started retelling the Book of Rime, and the Trials of the Desert, and anything I could think of. Turns out they’re a superstitious lot. They made me keep going every day until my voice gave out. Then they’d force me to eat the… meat.”
I nodded. Fucking cannibals.
“Then, every night, the four of them would take turns raping me.”
I was afraid that was where his story was going. I want to run out into the desert and find the shitbags that did this to Pytre and force them to eat their own dicks before I skin them alive… I reach out to touch Pytre’s arm and he flinches. His laugh is hollow.
“I know you were dying to… how did you put it? ‘Break in my virgin ass’? Well, sorry to say you’re too late.”
“I’m going to kill every last one of them.”
“No need,” Pytre says with a little shrug. His eyes are now dry. “They were sloppy one night tying me up to sleep and I got loose. One of them had a gun. An antique. I shot two of them in the head before the others knew what was happening. The third I shot twice as he was getting up, but the gun jammed and I had to throw a punch at the last one. Managed to knock him to the ground. Then I beat him to death with a big rock.”
I stare at Pytre—he yawns wide, looking around.
“I’d like to sleep now,” he says, his voice devoid of any emotion. I just nod and begin collecting the empty food wrappers as he settles back down on the bed. He’s asleep before I’m finished.
Next day, we move into a bigger room. This one has two cots and about a foot and half of floor between them, and a rickety old chair and table to one side. I expect Apple to object about the added cost, but to my surprise, he says nothing. I feel like there's something he's not telling me.
Pytre wakes only long enough to eat and use the toilet. I'm still waiting for him to ask me who my companion is. Apple, for his part, barely spares Pytre a glance, and doesn't complain when he has to sleep on the floor the first night. Again... something is up. I can feel it.
I haven't worked in days and I'm going to have to soon to keep feeding us—I can't ask Apple to chip in for Pytre's voracious appetite, but I really don't want to leave Pytre's side. I know that I've turned this into a mission—if I heal Pytre, maybe I'll be able to look in the mirror one day.
Yeah, right... I'm the reason he wound up in the hands of cannibal rapists. There won't be any absolution for me. The best I can do is keep the three of us alive.
Sighing, I lean my head back on the dented, dirty scrap metal—the wall is so thin I can hear the guy next door pissing—and watch Pytre's chest rising and falling slowly.
Author’s Note:
This is an unedited, ongoing serial that will eventually be published in novel form. Plot/characters/elements are subject to change as it is being written. It’s currently in 1st person/present tense, but I may change it to past tense, excluding the first chapter which will act as an intro. Read at your own discretion and take note of story tags below.
Genre: Post-Apocalyptic sci-fi
Tags: prostitution, graphic sex, large age gap, violence, theft, drug/alcohol abuse, depression, rape, gang rape, cannibalism, murder, incest, child/infant death and abuse, general abuse, (more to be added as the story goes)
Despite Pytre not weighing more than my right leg, I’m gasping for breath by the time I reach the hostel. I have to shift him in my arms to reach the keypad, and he nearly slips out of my hold when I push the door open with my shoulder.
Apple is lying on the bed with his back to me, naked from the waist down, with the neck of an aluminium water bottle sticking out of his ass.
“So… how many credits did you just piss away?” he says peevishly as he turns. Apple’s eyes widen. “Who’s that?”
“Move,” I growl, my arms trembling from the strain of holding Pytre. Apple quickly does as he’s told and I set my burden down on the bed with a grunt. I grab the bottle of lube as it rolls towards Pytre and toss it off the bed.
“Oh, wait, I know him,” Apple says, leaning over the bed. The bright silver bottleneck catches my eye again and I frown. “That’s the Rimer who hired me, ain’t it?” He straightens and my imagination paints such a vivid picture of the bottle lodged up his ass, it’s like I’ve got x-ray vision. I swallow. Outside of some cock-sucking and a few rounds of mutual wanking when we’re not fucked-out from work, Apple and I don’t have a physical relationship. In fact, the only time I fucked him was the day we met. However, right now all I can think is how I’d like to pull that bottle out of him and plug his hole with my dick instead. What about the promise I made to him? No sucking, no fucking. Well, sure, he sucks my cock from time to time but that’s on him.
“What’s with the… um…” I say, gesturing vaguely at his nakedness.
Yeah, when I pull the bottle out, I’ll keep his cheeks spread and spit a few times into his gaping hole before giving it a good drilling. I’m giving myself a raging hard-on but I can’t help it. Pytre’s got me wound up tight.
“I got a date with Herc later,” he says. “I figured I’d go prepared.”
“Ah.” Turk the Merc is well known for his excessive love of implants and his massive cock is the stuff of nightmares. Well, unless you’re like Apple—he seems to like the challenge.
Apple’s brows slowly move towards each other and he narrows his eyes at me. His skin is mostly cleared up and his stubble is less patchy, and he looks like a different person. His face has changed for the better in other ways too, like his jaw is wider and cheeks sharper—what with the mop of blond curls and exotic eyes, he’s turning into a real stunner. I clench my teeth, uncomfortable with his scrutiny.
“What?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Apple says, taking a step towards me. He tilts his head to the side, pauses, then unzips his shirt, dropping it on the ground. I look down, breaking his gaze. He’s got a great body, muscular, but not in that fake way, and his dick is pretty too. Jesus. I can feel the sweat trickling down my back.
Nonchalantly cupping the bulge in the front of my pants, he grins. “Wha’s this, eh mis’tuh? Whatchoo wanna?” he says playfully as he squeezes my meat. “Hm?”
I let out a shaky breath, not trusting myself to speak. What would I say anyway?
“You like that?” he breathes, massaging my dick through my pants.
“Yeah,” I reply, closing my eyes. His breath feathers my face as he moves in closer and I feel the barest tickling touch of his lips on mine. Not a kiss, just a tease. As he’s unclipping my belt, I look down into his mismatched eyes, breathing hard. “You don’t have to.”
Apple licks his lips, his gaze intense. “I know.” He slips one hand into my pants and grabs my dick. The sound that comes out of me is a strangled groan and he chuckles.
“Your hand’s cold,” I say, my voice hoarse.
Grinning wider, Apple tugs my pants down to my thighs and takes my cock in both hands, stroking it slowly. “It’s too bad I’ve already got a date tonight… I’d let you stick it in me…”
“Oh yeah?” I swallow, trying to play it cool, but the way my dick is jerking and twitching in Apple’s skilled hands probably paints a crystal-clear picture of exactly how much I’m dying to “stick it in him”.
There’s something mischievous about Apple’s expression—I know he’s enjoying torturing me. “Buuuut… I don’t think Turk’ll like the sloppy seconds and I have to leave soon,” he says with a little pout. Disappointed, I just close my eyes again, reminding myself to be thankful for whatever he’ll offer—he’s still jerking me off, after all.
Just as I’m starting to get close, Apple lets go of my dick, and I open my eyes to find him bent over, bracing himself on the foot of the bed. He shakes his pert backside at me, wagging the bottle like some sort of perverse tail.
“Ok… go on. But don’t you dare cum inside me.”
“Right.” I fumble with the greasy neck of the bottle, hands clumsy with excitement, and pull it out of him slowly. His pucker stays open, a deep pink cavern, then it winks shut as he looks over his shoulder at me, his grin crooked. I’m literally dripping by the time I push the head of my cock into him, and when my whole shaft just slides into him, easy as a pie, the sound I make can only be called a whimper. Jesus.
I can’t see his face because he’s turned away from me again, but the moan that comes out of him sounds genuine. I think.
Hell, why do I care?
Grabbing hold of his hips, I pound my cock deep into him a dozen times, doing mental gymnastics to prolong the moment as much as I can, but it’s no good, and for a sec I nearly forget about pulling out. Gritting my teeth, I yank my dick out of Apple and spray his back with a long groan.
“Boy, that was quick,” Apple says, looking back at me with a laugh.
“Fuck,” I say, panting. Then I freeze, because I see Pytre’s awake and staring right at me. I can’t tell what his expression is, I’m all fog-brained, but I think it’s either shock or disgust. Damn it. Apple gives me a curious look and turns to see what I’m staring at.
“Oh, hi there, preacher man,” Apple says cheerfully, still bent over the bed, his hands to either side of Pytre’s feet.
Pytre just blinks slowly at Apple then lifts his eyes to mine again.
“I uh,” I say, backing away from Apple to pull my pants up. “You’re awake.”
“Hey, wait! You’re not done here,” Apple reminded me.
“Sorry.” I’m so jittery, I nearly trip over myself getting to the toilet unit on the other wall. I grab the towel above the basin then clean up Apple’s back as best as I can, all the while avoiding Pytre’s gaze. When I’m done, Apple straightens and turns towards me, surprising me by pecking a kiss on my cheek just as I make eye contact with Pytre again. The ex-Rimer’s expression doesn’t change but the rims of his ears are suddenly very pink.
Pytre followed me into the desert, suffered god only knows, and this is his reward. Yeah, he should have known better.
“I’ll be home in a few hours,” Apple says, pausing at the door. The smile he gives me is strange—I’ve never seen it on his face before. “Have fun.”
I watch him go, wondering why it feels like I’ve done something doubly wrong, then I turn back to the bed. “That doesn’t usually happen,” I say, my voice gruff because I’m embarrassed and annoyed at myself.
Pytre’s eyebrows rise and his forehead wrinkles up like ripples in the sand. “I see.” He looks away and starts to sit up, so I drop to a squat next to the low bed and give him a hand, shoving the one lumpy pillow between his head and the wall as he scoots back. “Where am I?”
“Drenner’s Discount Hostel.” I wince, my knees aching from the strain, and use the bed frame to get up high enough so I can sit on the edge of the mattress. “Off Launch Drive. Not far from where you found me. You passed out.”
“Oh,” he says, rubbing the top of his head. He won’t look at me. “I don’t remember.”
“You want something to eat now?”
“Yes… Please.” This time he does meet my eye and the smile that curves his lips is earnest. “I’m famished. I could eat for days.”
I nearly jog down the stairs to the row of vend-o-tron machines and then pick one of everything that’s edible, trying not to think about my diminishing credits. Worse comes to worse, I’ll sell some blood to make it up. Or… I’ll let Turk have a go at me. I know he’s interested—he’s said as much. Walking back up the staircase with my arms full, I try not to think of Apple prepping himself for Turk’s monster. I can do it if it means getting Apple and me off this rock.
I stop at the door. Shit, what about Pytre? He’ll want to come too, won’t he? Or maybe not after what he just witnessed.
But if he does want to come… that’s going to complicate things when it comes to division of labour. I can’t imagine Pytre slinging ass alongside the two of us, but I doubt he’s got much in the way of real skills to do anything else. Shit.
Pushing open the door, I start to say something about the vacu-packaged bounty I secured, but I see that Pytre’s fallen unconscious again. I step into the room, dumping the food on the storage unit and lean over the bed to check his pulse. Just as I touch him, he smacks his lips, wrinkles his nose, and lets out a soft snore.
Chuckling to myself, I sit down on the bed next to him. Not unconscious—only asleep. I watch him for a few moments, then I reach out and take his hand in mine, careful so he won’t wake. I shake my head and sigh, squeezing his hand gently. You shouldn’t have followed me, I think at him. Shaking my head again, I touch the light on the wall, dimming it. But I’m glad you did.
We’ll figure something out.
I'm so sick of shovelling, I'm hopping on a plane next week to spend a week in the sun in Cuba... but before I go, I thought I'd offer up one more sale... and if there's a book in my bibliography I want you to read, it's this one.
Max is on sale at Amazon (US/UK only) for .99 from Feb 22-24 :) And the best part? Get Max for less than a buck and tack on the Audiobook narrated by Nick J Russo for just $1.99
Folks who dislike unhealthy relationships, are sensitive to consent ambiguity, or have should take a big step back from this story.
It's dark... ish and full of mindfuckery.
Substance abuse, pornography, violence, cheating, unprofessional behaviour, criminal intent, abuse... and good lord, the lies.
This week's sale is my fantasy novel, Kestrel's Talon. Set in a fantasy world, it features an unusual triad with an ace character.
Get it at Amazon (UK/US) for .99 Feb 15 & 16
Following the Prentish/Nemarri war, Kes is rejected by his homeland under the guise of religious purity laws. Though he's spared execution, the proud Nemarri's fate is only marginally more merciful than death when he is sold into sexual slavery at a prosperous pleasure house.
Despite his stoic endurance, Kes knows he’s reaching his breaking point, but there is nothing he can do—there is no path to freedom in the Holy Prentish Empire, only a lifetime of humiliating servitude.
That is, until a beautiful young slave and his formidable master approach Kes in the marketplace and make an astonishing offer to take him home with them. The only problem: “home” is the accursed Horthmont Castle from the scare-stories of Kes’s childhood.
Thrown into a world of living myth, powerful magic, and ancient gods, Kes learns the secrets kept hidden by Horthmont’s thick blackstone walls. There he discovers something he thought he’d never know again: hope for the future.
What? Another sale? Why not! And, I'll do another one next weekend. This time, it's Beauty and His Beast that's on sale at Amazon US & UK* this weekend starting today.
It's a take on Beauty and the Beast, but set in space. You know... spaceship instead of castle, comms crystal instead of magic mirror, DNA mutation instead of curse, etc. That sort of thing. There are a few reviews floating around that say it's a mashup of Beauty and the Beast and Cinderella... but it's not—the plot follows pretty closely to the Beauty and the Beast of my childhood, not the later Disney version... however, unlike that version, this one is light and silly and I had a lot of fun writing it (and filling it full of classic sci-fi references for the geeks out there 🤓)
From Deborah Apy's Beauty and the Beast
*KDP only does sales for US and UK for some reason. Sorry about that, it's out of my hands. I could change the listing price manually, but it's dodgy as hell and sometimes you can't undo the price change.
I almost forgot! Exposed is on sale for .99 from Feb 1-3 at Amazon (US/UK). This was one of my favourite books to write :)
Wondering which retailer pays me the most?
#1 is Payhip. Not a retailer, but an online shop that I've set up myself. This is where I make the most return on my books.
Then after that it gets a little complicated, but these are the three best choices:
At Eden Books*, I make 70% royalties for all titles.
At Smashwords, I make 60% royalties for all titles.
At Amazon, for books OVER $2.99 (USD) I make 70% royalties and for books UNDER $2.99 I make 35%
So... if the book is under $2.99, buy from Eden Books or Smashwords.
If the books is over $2.99, buy from Eden Books or Amazon.
But best of all, buy from my Payhip store :)
Questions? Contact Me!
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