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Friday, 25 May 2012

Meet Satan Jack From Crushed Seraphim! Birthday Bash Day 2

 We are celebrating the second day of the Crushed Seraphim Birthday Bash with Debra Anastasia!!
 Satan Jack, From Crushed Seraphim by Debra Anastasia came to visit. Let's see how this turned out....

He’d been here before. The ladies had been asleep, of course, and Satan Jack had indulged in his favorite drug. When the smoke left the end of his cigarette, it acted as his fingertips, brushing gently against the smooth skin of the unconscious women.
His sinful lips had lifted in a smirk when he realized they’d passed out after drinking together and having what looked like a pillow fight. So cliché, and yet so fucking sexy. Jack had wondered what Sam, Elena, and Rhonda dreamed about as the gray tendrils stroked their bare thighs.
Tonight would be different. Jack had three bottles of his best wine and one half-empty bottle of rum. He’d be celebrating tonight. He hit the door with a knuckle and waited. As the three temptresses answered, he bit his bottom lip.
They made delightfully happy noises—perfect muses for his dick. “Ladies.”
Rhonda slipped forward and reached for a bottle. She grazed a hand boldly against the front of his pants. “Whoops! Sorry for grazing the goods.”
Jack gave her a full smile, his white teeth tempting her, no doubt. “That’s okay baby, most girls mistake my cock for a giant wine bottle.”
Elena giggled. “I’ll toast to that!”
The night’s tone was set, and Jack was relieved. He could do playful and sexy for hours.
Sam told jokes, Elena took pictures, and Rhonda kept leaning in for elaborate hugs. He almost felt famous. After all the bottles were empty and their cheeks hurt from laughing, the four sprawled out on the couches.
Sam broached the topic first. “So, how’s Debra?”
He tried to ignore her by lighting up another smoke.
Rhonda wouldn’t let it go. “She says she’s finished with the sequel. Was it good?”
Jack put his cigarette in his mouth and tied his hair off his face with one of his leather bracelets. It was a messy job, but he was stalling for time.
For three ladies who had put away enough alcohol for a handful of truckers, they were alarmingly coherent.
Elena came over and sat in his lap. “Don’t be scared. We’ll go easy on you.”
Jack snickered. “I sure as shit hope you girls are horrifyingly rough with me. No mercy whatsoever.”
They did that pleading thing with their eyes, and three gorgeous women did him in. Broke him quicker than any torture. Maybe it was the high ratio of vaginas to penis.
He sighed. “I’m not sure. She hasn’t let me read it yet.”
The ladies made sympathetic noises.
“The few parts I’ve seen scare the testes out of me. I’m more naked in it than anything else, and I was kissing a dude at one point.” He inhaled deeply and exhaled as he watched them try to avoid giggling at this revelation.
“You were kissing a man?” Sam tilted her head and seemed to be trying to picture it.
“Don’t even.” He gave her what he thought was a threatening stare.
It obviously had no effect because she flat out laughed when Rhonda asked, “Did she put you in pigtails for that scene?”
Jack rubbed his forehead and rolled his eyes.
Elena stopped laughing long enough to offer some condolences. “Usually that can get a girl going—I’m just saying.”
“Either way, it wasn’t what I was hoping for. The naked? Fine. But I need to know what happens with Emma.” He stubbed his cigarette out in the bottom of his moist rum glass.
“Come on,” said Rhonda. “You live in Debra’s head. We know her pretty well at this point. She won’t shred your love.”
“Really?” He stood, agitated. “Have you read Poughkeepsie?” The ladies nodded. “One word for you: Mouse. Still trust her?”
Elena bit her finger while she thought, which made Jack growl.
“Well, she gave us an excerpt!” Sam broke in. “Do you want to read it with us?”
“I’ve seen that one. It doesn’t even talk about Emma.” He began pacing. The sequel wouldn’t be released until Fall 2012. He had forever to wait.
Rhonda opened her laptop. “This is a different one.” She scanned the screen. “And it’s got Emma written all over it. You want a piece of this?” She set the computer between her legs and gave him a sassy air kiss.
Jack made it a point not to run. He walked slowly until he could kneel between Rhonda’s legs. “I’ll take whatever you’re offering.”
Elena slipped under his arm so she could read, and Jack made way for Sam as well.


“Our Father which art in Heaven, Hallowed be thy name. Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done…”  Emma’s voice was just a small whisper, and the sound of it echoing off the cement walls made her feel more alone.
She tried to remember who she was, what she was. “What I still am,” she said aloud. She held her arms and legs tightly to her body. The floor was alarmingly cold. It was cold for any floor, but particularly harsh considering Emma was in Hell.
“I’m an angel in Hell. I have a purpose. I have people I love. I have a purpose.” She took a breath to steady herself. Then she tried again, “Our Father which art in Heaven, Hallowed be thy name...”
If she wasn’t so dehydrated, she might have teared up. The prayer was one of the first things she’d learned as a young girl. Soon after learning her name, Emma knew how to say the Lord’s Prayer. The lack of those words in her mind was a defeat.
Emma was in her worst nightmare: the Hell hallway designed specially for her by Jack, the previous Devil. As innocuous as the simple hallway looked, it was filled with traitorous internal plagues, separated only by slender respites from the exhausting, painful tortures. Right now she was between anger and confusion.
Perhaps it was the air next to her, which was laced with confusion, that had stolen the soothing words from her mind.
Her mind. Such a simple thing to take for granted. She never knew it could be attacked from within. After Everett had tossed Emma into the hallway, she’d panicked. She’d wanted to be a strong, fearless crusader for right. So much for wishes.
Emma sat up as carefully as she could, desperately wanting to avoid a bout with the traps so close on either side of her. She stretched her back, wishing she still had her angel wings. Surely she could shield herself and her mind by tucking them tightly around her body like a feather-covered shroud.

The only remnants of her Heavenly decorations were two silver lightning bolt tattoos, or at least that’s what she guessed. There was no mirror. Anyway Emma felt it was best not to see her reflection. She judged herself harshly as it was. No need to see her gray eyes staring their agony and loss back at her.
Emma grabbed fistfuls of the short, flouncy skirt on the French maid’s costume she’d been forced to wear, trying to keep her elbows close at her sides. The power in the air on either side was very tangible.
Emma needed more gumption to try to escape. She looked at the gaping exit, seemingly so close. But where to go? When an angel (okay, former angel) is sentenced to one thousand years in Hell, she has a certain desire to see her sentence to the end, follow the rules. Even if the rules hurt every second of her existence.
Everett had left her in disgust, and she hadn’t seen him since. Which was good, although probably bad in the long run. She remembered how her ruffled panties had stayed stubbornly in place when he’d tried to force himself on her. It had infuriated him and confused her. Did she have someone or something on her side here in Hell? She tried again. “Our Father which art in…” The words scrambled from her grasp. “Damn it.”
“Who arts in something? I always thought that was the most bullshitty of prayers they fed us.” Everett walked through the doorway, exuding cocky arrogance. “Are you trying to remember the words to that one? Still a believer after all you’ve been through, Emma?”
She hated that she started shaking when she saw him. She was scared of him, and not only was it embarrassing, she felt shamed by it. Everett bit his bottom lip, trying to hold back his huge grin at her obvious fear. He was unsuccessful.
“Not talking? That’s okay. I don’t need you to talk,” he said. “As long as you can grab your ankles, we’ll be fine.” He began to unbutton his silk pajama shirt.
Emma wanted to look away—to at least deny him her attention if she could deny him nothing else—but she watched him like she would a poisonous spider. His chest was sculpted with muscle. He took a step forward with every button he unfastened.
Emma squirmed and closed one eye. This man was the Devil. He had everything, anything at his disposal in this damned place. Her flimsy panties would not shield her for much longer.
Everett untied his pajama bottoms and inched the fabric down slowly. The muscles below his hips were defined in what seemed like a promise of horrible things. “You can’t wait to see my goodies. I know, good things will come in those who can’t get away.” Everett took another step closer, just inches from the Hell hallway entrance.
The first trap in the hallway assaulted him as he stepped into it, and he instantly backed up. “What the fuck was that?” Everett pointed at the space in front of him.
Emma almost smiled. “That? That first one’s hunger. It’s the easiest one because hunger moves you forward in search of prey. The second? That’s depression. That one’s a bitch.”
He sputtered with anger. “But, but I’m the Devil. I can go anywhere!”
“Try again. It’ll give me something to watch.” Emma shrugged.
Rejection, with a tinge of fear, created a lace pattern of dismay on his face.
He tried numerous things to get to Emma: throwing a rock, which bounced off the air in front of him like a wall and hit him in the head. He tried running with a large pole he’d dug up from somewhere. It cracked in half, and the pointy end stabbed him in the balls.
He paced back and forth like a caged tiger, snarling at Emma whenever they made eye contact. Finally, as if they were having a conversation instead of experiencing his cascading failures, he demanded, “Well, just come over here then.”
Emma shook her head.
Everett tried pointing and snapping. He tried closing his eyes and concentrating.
Emma gave him the finger.
“I will get in there. You probably know better than anyone the crap I have access to in here. If I have to tear this place apart, I’ll get to you.” Everett pointed again.
Emma rubbed her forehead. It had been days, maybe weeks, since she had a drink of water, a bite to eat. She’d be dead if she were a human on earth, but a human in Hell wasn’t granted the freedom of death.
She tried to pull her long blond hair out of her face, but gave up when her elbows came close to the traps and let it tumble around her shoulders. “I hope your blue balls poison you.” Emma looked at her feet, fairly confident that she was out of his grasp, for now.
Everett crouched down to deliver his next promises. “When I can finally lick your face? Do you know what I’m going to do next?”
The sounds of Hell seeped in around his words. She looked over her shoulder, and he wiggled his tongue at her.
“Um, stick your Smurf nuts in some panties just like these and put heels on?” She tried to hold his gaze as she pointed to her underwear.
His face contorted into a very convincing mask of evil. “You think you’re sassy, but you’ll pay for every word with screams. Every insult with blood. I’m going to chain you by the neck to my ankle for at least a hundred years. You’ll lick my feet clean. I’ve so much time to play with. This hallway is just a speed bump. You should fear every moment.” He stood, and her new best friend, fear, crowded into her heart again.


Jack’s hands shook as he finished reading the last sentence. The ladies looked apprehensive. He couldn’t let them see his overwhelming concern, so with one quick snap, all three fell asleep, gorgeous in their carefree slumber.
Jack printed a copy of the excerpt to take back to Hell with him. He’d read it over and over and try to analyze how Debra Anastasia would bring Emma’s story to fruition. He’d torture the ending out of her if he had to.
With a quick wink he planted orgasmic dreams of him in each lovely lady’s head, grabbed the empty bottles, and locked the door behind him. In the morning they’d think it’d all been a dream. 
Don't forget to visit Debra's blog for the grand prize!! 

To win an e-copy of Crushed Seraphim!! 
Enter the Rafflecoptor, 2 more copies to giveaway!
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monamour said...

Sounds like you ladies had one fucktastic time with Jack. And thanks to Debra for the new exert - can't wait!

Cheers! Trayce (lemonamour)

Mady said...

The answer to the question from Debra's blog is Everett's blue balls haha Love the excerpt :) I really enjoyed the mini-story of sorts! Very cute & funny!

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