SBAT Chapter 8

“I’m sorry?” Steph says.

“My feet. While we wait. I mean, you saw my shoes, right?” Demi bends out of sight and holds up her shoe. “It’s been a long day, and I had to go down to the archives twice already. Do we have a deal?”

It seems harmless enough. But Constantine seemed pretty sure of himself when he warned against deals.

Steph frowns, thinking hard.

“No,” she says. “No deal. But I’ll make a prediction instead of a deal. I predict that if you help me out with this, I’d be happy to rub your feet. Because I definitely know what that’s like. You should see the boots I wore when I first started out in this gig,” she adds, plucking at her cape. “After a full night I just wanted to die.”

Demi looks amused. “OK. No deal. I guess I have to trust you. You are supposed to be one of the good guys, right?” she asks, turning to her keyboard.

Steph sighs. “Supposedly.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Steph laughs. Demi types, then slaps the enter key. A loading bar appears on the screen. “OK. If Batman, known to some as Bruce Wayne, is here, this will locate him.”

They gaze at each other for several moments. It’s awkward, but it’s also funny. Steph can’t believe that this is really what hell is like. She hardly feels as though she’s left America.

“Do you want a foot rub?” she asks.

“I would love that,” Demi says, eagerly twisting in her chair and bringing two red feet up onto the desk. Her chair squeaks as she leans back eagerly, wiggling her toes.

Steph hesitates, but only for a moment. There are a thousand things that make this weird and uncomfortable, but on the other hand, it’s not a terribly difficult thing to do. She leans in and gets started with gloved hands.

“Oh. Thank you.” Demi makes it sound heartfelt, but she’s not overacting like a porn star or something. She sighs deeply and leans back.

Steph swallows again. She didn’t count on the view. She can’t exactly see up Demi’s skirt, but the room is getting a little pungent, and there’s more than just sweat in the air.

“Have you worked here long?” Steph asks, **** for distraction. She’s not about to sit in hell with a painful erection trapped in her costume because Seed has given her the brain of a teenage boy.

“Not compared to the real old-timers. What about you? Doing the cape thing for a long time? I didn’t look at your file.”

“Not compared to the old-timers,” Steph replies.

“You seem young.”

“I was a teenager when I started.”

“Why’d you do it?”

“My dad was a bad guy.”

“Oof. Oh god. Right here,” Demi says.

Steph snorts and digs her thumbs into the ball of Demi’s foot. Her toes curl and she shivers. “Was your skin always red or do they add that when you get here?”

“You’d look good in red.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“You seem nervous.”

“It’s hell. I thought there’d be fire and ****,” Steph admits.

“Well, it is hot in here. But that’s a maintenance issue. It’s not meant to be ****.”

“I thought you’d chain people up and whip them.”

“Well, that can be fun. With a safe word and everything. But why?”

“Huh?”

“Why would we do that?” Demi asks.

Steph stops rubbing and stares. “I don’t know. I never went to Sunday school. But that’s what devils do, right?”

“Steph, if your soul comes to hell, why would I chain you up and **** you? What do I get out of that? What does my boss get? How does anyone gain there?”

“I don’t know. You tell me. Are you saying that you don’t **** people here?”

Demi sighs. “I don’t, personally. I’m not going to lie and say that nobody ever gets tortured. That wouldn’t be honest. But it sounds like you have a picture of this place that maybe isn’t very accurate.”

“Enlighten me.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Oh, here we go again,” Steph says.

“I’m just kidding. But think about how silly you’re being, Steph. So, you die and we get your soul. Then suppose that I did have a reason to **** you. So, I do what you said: chain you up and whip you. OK. Then what?”

“Don’t you do it for eternity?”

“Wouldn’t you get used to it?”

Steph cringes. “What?”

“I’m serious. How many years of getting whipped and burned and whatever else would it take you to get used to it? You’d stop caring about pain so fast you won’t believe it. That kind of **** is lame, it’s not productive, it does nothing for anyone. Only the most creatively bankrupt demons are doing that stuff, I promise you,” Demi says, giving Steph a look. “Old-fashioned is what it is. Ridiculous. Hell.” Demi turns around the second monitor on her desk, which protests because it’s so heavy. “Look, I mean, is **** even always that bad?” She types on her keyboard and a video feed pops up. It’s a little grainy, but still quite explicit.

Selina is chained by her wrists and ankles, nude except for her Catwoman mask. Her body glistens with sweat; she’s suspended off the ground, and dozens of lit candles are underneath her.

A muscled, well-hung demon with an impressive goatee and skin the same color as Demi’s, prowls around her with a lit candle in his hand. He drips wax on Selina’s bare skin. She hisses and bucks, rattling the chains.

Steph opens her mouth to protest, only for the words to die.

Selina’s legs are soaked. Her nipples stand up so angrily even with the poor video quality, Steph can see her goosebumps. Selina is shaved down here, and the twitching of her pussy is unmistakable.

“Oh my god,” Steph mutters. So much for avoiding the erection; she winces. Some of that is coming from the hot demon guy, though.

Wait. Did Steph mention Selina? And how did Demi find her so fast?

Demi speaks before Steph can. “See? You get a perv like her down here, and for all you know, she’s enjoying it. I’m just kidding. No judgment. I like that kind of play too. And don’t freak out,” she adds quickly. “They’re just playing. Looks like your friend just challenged Rodrigo to a little game. Her idea, not his.”

“Oh,” Steph says, relieved. She wipes the sweat from her forehead and glances at the other screen. 2% finished.