Just as with the demons before our subject, either they didn’t know of all the rewards due to each new Devil, or they conveniently forgot.
As we couldn't assume other forms at that time, the Book of the Damned hovered before our slasher-boy subject and watched as he lost control of his body in every conceivable way. It was his turn for the sins filling his coffer to physically come into being and become apparent to all. For me, and a number of other women within the book, this particular torment was as sweet for us as it was painful for him.
Our subject’s fleshy strips healed to his body as if his skin had never been sliced; no doubt but a moment’s relief from their usual discomfort. But that moment was quickly gone as his belly flesh started rippling, contorting, and stretching as the outlines of hands, faces, and feet pressed outward from within him. His ribs cracked and splintered inside him as they were pushed outward past their breaking points, and his screams almost drowned out those of the damned under his feet. His spine snapped and his pelvis collapsed outward as if a massive weight inside him had suddenly come into being. The pain spasmed his muscles causing him to contort backwards sharply, and with that the front of his torso, from about mid-sternum to just above his groin, exploded as five nude women erupted from within him. As the women circled about him I watched his face suddenly drain of color as he recognized this bevy of bountiful beauties; five in all. They were his known victims, and they were now his first punishment in his new demon form as well! The women moved in rhythmic precision while his fleshen body healed and he stood back up into a cowardly stance.
Four of the femmes moved with grace and purpose as they pushed him to the tortured ground and restrained him on his back. The fifth knelt down between his spread legs, smiling. She caressed and stroked his body and teased his manhood until it stood proud and longing for another touch. She gazed long and hard into his fear filled eyes and he knew his damnation was never again going to be what he’ll now see as easy to deal with.
The fifth woman had a single index finger outstretched and lightly tracing a line from jugular notch all the way down his belly, up and over the length of his rigid, vein-rippled meat, then down to his coin purse and to the spot where the cheeks of his ass met. Though I know not of the fashion of the fingernail this woman possessed, I do know it pierced and slit through his flesh with greater ease than any surgeon’s sharpest blade. She was now slicing his skin and muscle every inch of the way back up to his jugular notch, but he didn't know it till after she withdrew her finger. It was that sharp.
His screams were his own rather than his victims as our subject split open suddenly. His blood sprayed his victims-turned fates. While using their weight to keep him restrained, they all shifted themselves to reach in and tear out his bits and pieces. Once most of his torso was empty — save just one of his lungs so he could still scream while feeling suffocated at the same time — one of the women reached deep into his pelvis with both hands; her fingers could be seen under the thin skin of his still rigid pride and soft sack. She took hold from within, and then pulled back so very slowly tediously tearing from inside him the blood-filled contents of all of his manhood. Every tendon, vein and nerve could be heard popping and snapping while blood sprayed all over his assailants as his naked flesh, his truly naked flesh, was slowly being ripped away from under the skin. For a moment it was as if all of Hell was suddenly quiet and listening in on this torment. Finally the last tendon snapped like whip back against her hand splashing blood all over herself as she fell flat on her back laughing boisterously. A moment later she thrust her hands full of his raw, blood-dripping pride into the air showing she had left only hollow skin sacks flapping about his groin as he thrashed about under the restraint of the other four women. His screams got significantly higher in pitch despite only having one lung to work with. In the mortal coil he'd have been dead some time ago, but in Hell, no punishment is wasted on something as trivial as death.
None of his new servants ever lifted a finger to help him because they knew every leader in the ranks must face his or her damnation at least once a day in mortal chronology. Those who didn't know previously now have something to think about as they watched our subject’s own skinless genitals get shoved into his screaming mouth clear to the back of his throat! His head fell back, his eyes rolled shut, and it all suddenly stopped.
In turn each woman stepped back into his open and quite hollow torso. As each stood within his seemingly lifeless body, they suddenly became as blood and splashed into a puddle I can only describe as dead plasma due to its dark reds and even darker swirls of browns. Simultaneously his organs, all scattered about him in pieces, bubbled and liquefied, and then flowed through the tiny ditches created by the ever-aggravated scarring between the damned, and back to his open body. Once each liquid-organ found its way into the cavity of his torso it would re-solidify to its original form, attach to other reforming organs, and resume functions. Our hero could feel all of this. His pain never ceased as his body reconstructed and healed. The bulge in his throat calmed and bubbled and dark blood spilled from his mouth, and even more so he moaned and quivered in pain as his intimate bits refilled and reformed. All those thousands of tiny nerves firing off as they reformed from the previous carnage.
Our subject arose from his repose. He straightened himself out and regained his composure for but a brief, brief moment. As he looked about himself, as anyone would after a shock to their body, before his eyes and ours, his scrotum swelled and reddened considerably followed by his penis doing the same in a grotesque inflammation. Then a swell at the base of the underside of his cock developed, which lifted his penis almost as if it was becoming erect, but then it travel the modest length of the shaft till finally revealing its greenish-yellow, liquid-like composition by spilling uncontrollably from the head much like a drunk person projectile vomiting from too much libation. After that initial spew a thin, stringy, constant, and obviously aggravating yellow-green goo continually oozed which would sling and slather his legs, feet, and those sewn into the tortured ground beneath him. The disgust on his face suddenly gave way to confusion as his eyes also swelled as mucus welled up and began streaming down his face. No amount of rubbing relieved the spillage which was itching and blurring his vision with obvious discomfort. His eyes adjusted somewhat and for but a moment he calmed.
New flashes of pain consumed him as wounds opened up all over his form. They were slices like those made from a doctor’s blade, which his body gave us a display of with each deep cut. At the end of each cut his own skeleton produced a replicant shape of the knife our subject used in life to open up his victims. Each one protruding from his flesh at the angle his own hand held it with each cut into the women he mutilated. Blood pours from all the wounds. His flesh doesn't heal and the doppelgänger blades lean into the aggravated wounds as if they're foreign to his body. His skin pales from blood loss as his red now contrasts his skin brilliantly.
Just as Judas became a physical reflection of the contents of his coffer, this man has now taken on the physical representations of his transgressions. The gonorrhea. The tortures. The cutting, bleeding, and gutting. The drawn out torment of his daily damnation. The violence. Who he was in life has been sliced and torn away. All that remains is the true form of Jack the Knife.
“You see, young one, in Hell, damnation has no regard for the rank one holds. They must all face their damnation every single day. That man you just saw had to endure that punishment at least once a day until he was overthrown.”
“Did he rule for very long?”
“About a week.”
“A week?! What happened?!”
“Hell is well stocked with womanizers and self-stroking chauvinists. Once Jack took the throne it was easy for everyone to see, on a daily basis, five women, always different from those of the day before, emerging from within him to torture him into submission in all manner of creative ways. When Jack took the throne I came into the service of a consummate misogynist. Armed with the kn
owledge in my pages my new master rallied numerous other misogynists. They all saw those women destroying the new Devil day after day as some sort of weakness. Within a week they tore The Ripper from the throne. They just weren't having any of that strong, independent woman bullshit, even if it was a damnation. At that time his new damnation was an inverted crucifixion in the Crucifixion Fields. They made sure his head was pushed hard enough, and low enough, against the forsaken ground that a bowl was formed around it. It didn't take long to fill up past his eyes, past his nose and ears, all the way up to his bottom lip. Forevermore his head has been submerged in his own pool of drippy-dick juice and mucus from his conjunctivitis. They called it Jack’s Head Soup.”
Vic kinda giggled but looked a bit pale from what she had just seen. We're certainly well beyond the birds and the bees here.
“I thought I was asking a much simpler question than that. I’d never have had any idea …”
“… Had this book never become part of your life? We know. No one should know these things. What mortal would have any idea before it was too late? Unfortunately this is part of your life now and to the end, maybe beyond. What is your next question?”
“What is an ‘Ebony Demon’?”
“An Ebony Demon has the distinction of being a very prized soul among the ranks. Their souls become the deepest shades of red of all the souls of Hell. Dark enough so they were christened with the Ebony moniker. The sinner is someone who understands the differences between Right and Wrong, but has chosen to completely embrace the punishments of their consciences. As with other souls in Hell, their level of sin is enough that just being within the vicinity of a non-sinner they can sometimes induce the non-sinner to act against their better judgment. They're darkened souls are always quickly recruited into the ranks and become tools prized for their ability to corrupt the souls of mortals.
Unfortunately these souls are very strong-willed and prone to defection. So to give them even more ability, but also create a blind loyalty within them, they're meshed with one of the Thorn Minion. The Thorn are completely, blindly loyal to whomever occupies the throne of Hell, but mentally, they're basically blanks which can be programmed like the computers your father helps produce. Typically, a lot of the physicality of the Thorn is lost in the process of being meshed with Ebonies; such as the loss of many, or all, of the quills, because the sin of the darkened soul acts as an infection of sorts on the physical form of the Thorn. Other abilities, however, are gained, most of which aid the new form of the Ebony to better attach itself to its target and burrow in. Then they’re loosed into the mortal realm most specifically in search of those who hold great potential for great successes in life. Those are the people with the strongest wills and to whom the greatest patience and persistence must be paid for acquiring their souls. The Ebony Demons are particularly well-suited for such mortals. They primarily seek out prey in positions of influence such as teachers, inventors, politicians, entertainment personalities, and so-called servants of the Lord. However, that list is a severely abbreviated one as Ebonies often find such potential in otherwise innocuous mortals …”
“HITLER?” Her tone was sudden as if the name and realization had just burst into her mind.
“Yes. Though, he was not as strong as you might think, he was on the path to being an artist when an Ebony discovered his penchant for politics. The Ebony Demon redirected Hitler, and then corrupted his mind with ease far greater than expected. He was one of the greatest leaders who was never able to truly think for himself other than to know right from wrong. Yet, he still went forward with the slaughter of masses. The Ebony Demon preyed upon his paranoia, insecurities, and the other weaknesses of his mind and heart, and it was a simple matter to break his spirit and pull him into the darkest depths of his own id. The last I saw of him he was woven into the landscape of Hell and left to endure some of the most intense suffering of all the souls contained therein. His mental and emotional suffering is among the most legendary in Hell. We have always speculated, because of the awesome numbers of people who perished because of his command, that his suffering will take thousands of years just to complete one time. Then it will all simply begin again. He is one of the most useless souls in Hell because of the amount of suffering he must endure. What is your next question, young one?”
“Do Guardian Angels exist? I mean, with all these demons and sufferings, is there good? Are there angels?”
“Certainly there are, young one. This is where the rules of our existences stand on common ground. In the mortal realm Guardian Angels and demons cannot see each other. On occasion a Guardian Angel and a demon collide within the soul of a mortal which causes a struggle many have mistakenly referred to as a possession. There are three places an angel and a demon can see each other: Heaven, Hell and within the soul of a mortal. When they are seeing each other in Heaven or Hell it is typically because one has captured the one or the other and becomes a prisoner. None who have ever been captured have ever returned.”
“But, doesn’t everyone have a Guardian Angel? Aren’t we all watched over by our own angel?”
“Now you’re confusing two different things. An angel can be anyone who has passed on to Heaven, at least as we understand it. A Guardian Angel is an elder angel who has risen in the ranks of Heaven and has chosen the calling of seeking out someone to watch over. Like demons the Guardian Angels tries to influence the chosen person to follow certain paths in life. Not everyone has a Guardian Angel because not everyone has the same qualifications needed to receive one.”
“What qualifications?”
“The same qualifications I have already described which the Ebony Demons look for. Those are the people who can influence and create change in the world. Those are the ones who are the most important to the ranks of Heaven and Hell.”
“Azeeza, why does it seem like every answer you give only creates more questions?”
“Let me give you a starting point, young one. I’m going to go back a bit farther than you may expect, but it sheds a great deal of light on why things are the way they are. Think simply about the dinosaurs, they were great and small beasts. They ruled the oceans, lands and the sky. There were so many of them with so many unique qualities which were designed and developed for just one specific purpose: survival.
When you take into account there were not only so many varieties of these beasts, but also so many evolutions of them, it becomes obvious they were evolving for a purpose other than survival. They were evolving for the sake of domination and longevity. The problem with the dinosaurs, every last one of them, was no matter which species became the dominant one, they were still just beasts that were little more than slaves to their own instincts. There were never questions of doing this or doing that, or is this right or is this wrong. Despite some formidable intelligence in several of the species, the basic truth would always have been they were nothing more than creatures of instinct.
So the drawing board was wiped clean and a great redesigning took place. New beasts were created, two of which would ultimately be evolved far enough to take dominance of the lands, air or seas, and then some. But a great chance was taken in the design of these two species. They had to evolve enough to decide for themselves to become the dominant species.
By the recounting of the King James Bible this part of man’s history was perverted and condensed into what so many mortals know as the story of Adam and Eve; the male species and the female species. Or, to more closely relate it to the truth of the mindset before, during, and after King James, the stronger and more intelligent species and the weaker species. Obviously times have changed since that rag was published. But this mindset had gone unchallenged because it has always been commonplace for men to consider the female species as the weaker sex, and keep her convinced of it as well. Small minds see not the greater story but rather the small story which is easier to see. That is a lesson which has underlined much of mankind’s history. Fortunately I am going to fill you in on a little secret about
the genders. Men are the workhorses; the strength of the two genders. Women are the nurtures; the grace of the two genders. Ever heard the phrase By the grace of God?”
“Yes …”
“Well, hun, it’s by the grace of all mothers that anyone achieves anything! But don't tell men that. Their egos are made of hard candy and they'll shatter with just one bite.”
Vic giggled and lightened up. It was good to see a smile from her.
“Ultimately the species which is more prone to higher thinking becomes the dominant one, and it was then God will continue the evolutionary process. Both mortal species have their own hurdles to overcome. Males need to tame their innate ego, while women need to tame their emotionality. NOT rid themselves of them, but control them as appropriate. To further complicate these hurdles the species of men and women have — to a degree — those innate characteristics of the other as well. It’s believed they share those qualities to help one better understand the other in order to give both species the opportunity to evolve together as they have previously. As they had to, or fail.”
“Fail what?”
“Fail being able to contain a soul. You see, a soul is perfection because it is, in basic, a duplicate of the soul of God. It is immortal except under the rarest of circumstances. Because of the soul’s great power it was decided the vessel designed to carry it could NOT be a perfect vessel, but instead flawed in order to help create questions about how to spend one’s life. What knowledge, adventures, or complete wastes of time should a person devote his or herself to? And in determining the pursuits of life one also determines for one’s self the right and the wrong according to one’s own innate character. This is where many people get confused about who goes to Heaven and who goes to Hell.
If one is born with the propensity for murder in his or her character, but that person spends their life resisting what is within him to do, he stands a very good chance of going to Hell simply because they fill their coffer with regret over a life not lived as they feel they should have lived it.”
Legacy of Judas - Book One Page 13