‘So this is how I die,’ Bridget thought to herself. Plenty of people had said that the sorority parties at Arizona State University could get pretty crazy. The 23-year-old grad student had always kind of assumed that they had meant something along the lines of drinking, general rowdiness, and incidental property damage when the first two got out of hand. What had never really come to mind was the idea of getting ritually sacrificed by a demon worshiping cult.
Bridget watched helplessly as the woman clad in a burlap robe took a kitchen knife in her hands. The cultists had made certain to tie her hands and feet together with lengths of rope to keep her from escaping the pentagram drawn on the floor in chicken blood and lit candles.
“See you in hell, bitch,” the knife wielding cultist taunted. The downright evil smile plastered across her face as she raised the blade above her head with both hands sent a surge of anger through the bound Bridget.
“Fuck you, Mary,” she spat with all the hatred she could muster.
The grad student reflexively closed her eyes seeing Mary swing the knife down towards her with both hands. It didn’t do anything to block out the sensation of the blade smashing through her chest right between her breasts.
—--
“Hello.” Bridget heard a voice call out to her. She refused to open her eyes. The idea that someone was calling out to her was patently ridiculous. Someone had just stabbed her in the heart. She was dead. You didn’t hear people talking to you when you were dead. “Hello. Hey. Helloooooo. Heaven to human.” The voice was persistent though. Whoever it was, a woman by Bridget’s best guess, continued to call out to her regardless.
Bridget caved and cracked an eye open the barest amount possible. Peering through her eyelashes, she could make out a woman looking at her with worry. She probably would’ve been Bridget’s type under normal circumstances. Her face had an alluring sharpness to it with a small mouth and eyes that gave the impression that they saw right through you. Her body was covered by an elaborate white and gold dress that wouldn’t have struck her as out of place in a religious ceremony, except it was oddly sexualized, having a long slit up the side of the skirt to show off her leg and was low cut enough to bare a large amount of her ample cleavage. What rather ruined the whole package were the white feathered wings sprouting out of her back and shining halo hanging over her long golden hair.
‘I’ve gone crazy. Dying drove me crazy and I’m spending the last moments of my life having a fever dream,’ Bridget thought to herself. You didn’t see women like this in reality, not outside of shady cosplay brothels and most of the people who worked in those couldn’t put together a getup this realistic looking. None of this situation made sense the more she examined it. She’d been lying on her back with her limbs bound when Mary killed her and now she was sitting slumped in some sort of high back chair. The now-dead grad student could remember dreams that had been as disorienting as this.
“Is she okay? Nothing went wrong when I picked her up, did it?” The dream winged woman continued to talk to herself out loud. Bridget shut her eye again. Ignoring everything was the best way she could think of getting it all over with. There was very important dying business she needed to get back to, after all.
What the grad student wasn’t expecting was to feel something dig into her rib cage moments later. Instinctively flinching off to the side, Bridget broke out giggling. “Whahat are you doinghehehe!?” she protested.
“Oh, so you’re okay after all.” Bridget responding didn’t stop her from tickling though. In fact, she ramped it up. The winged woman’s free hand came in to sink into the opposite side of her rib cage. Bridget reflexively tried to press her arms against her sides to protect herself, but found that they wouldn’t budge from the armrests. Attempting to squirm away only resulted in her body twitching a little. The grad student was left being forced to produce a stream of giggles as the woman continued to expertly abuse her sensitive ribs.
“Stohohohop! Stop ihithehehAHAHAHA!” Bridget shrieked. “I’m awake NOHOHOWhehehehahAHAHA!”
“But you didn’t respond at all until I started tickling you. I have to keep going or you’ll be quiet again.” The small smile that had formed on the winged woman’s lips let Bridget know that she was teasing her.
“I’m SOHORRYHAHAHAhahaha! I’ll tahalkheheAHAhahaHAHA! I’LL TAhalkhehehehe” Bridget cried.
“I’m certain you will.” Despite her reassurances, she continued to toy with Bridget’s ribs for another couple minutes before stopping. She’d just discovered that the top of the rib cage right where the ribs met the armpits got the college student to throw her head back with laughter and she was having too much fun playing with it to let the helpless human off easy. When she was done, Bridget slumped over gasping for breath. “Next time, please respond when someone talks to you. It’s very rude to ignore them.” Bridget wasn’t certain she liked the idea of being chastised for her manners by a woman who had spent the past several minutes torturously toying with her body for fun, but she wasn’t in a good position to argue.
“Right. Let’s get started then.” The winged woman tapped her foot on the ground. Out of thin air sprang a low coffee table. She made a show of picking up a pair of glasses off the coffee table and putting them on before grabbing a nearby pen. “Now, how much experience would you say you have with tickle torturing someone?”
“I… Uh, what? None…?” Bridget was so caught off guard by the question that she answered on reflex. The winged woman harrumphed and made a note on her paper.
“That’s fine. We’ll just start training from the beginning then. What would you say your views are on the topic of eternal damnation?”
“I’m sorry. What is this?” Bridget asked in bewilderment.
The winged woman looked at her with surprise. “A job interview, of course.”
“Why am I undergoing a job interview!?” Bridget blurted out before she could stop herself.
“Because I need employees,” said the winged woman like it was the most obvious conclusion in the world. Seeing that her answer had only served to make Bridget more confused, she explained further. “Look, my department doesn’t have anybody else in it anymore. The only people in this building these days are me and the janitor who drops by to vacuum every Thursday. Nobody wants to work in Behavioral Corrections. Torturing mortals as a demonstration of what will happen to them if they don’t shape up is considered too cruel a job for most celestials. Most of them would rather put their time towards making Heaven a more enjoyable place to stay in.”
It was becoming apparent to Bridget that this was a sore spot for the winged woman. Her complaints turned out to be building up a good head of steam for a rant.
“So what if it’s cruel? What, is it better to just leave them to suffer for an eternity in Hell!?” Bridget shook her head the moment she realized the winged woman was waiting for her to answer. At this point the grad student was so lost she figured she’d just pretend to understand until the world started making sense again. “And for that matter, tickling isn’t weird, dammit. It’s sexy! Angels these days don’t know the pleasure of having someone take control of you with just the tips of their fingers!”
Bridget was about to ask what any of this had to do with her, then thought better of it. The tickling the woman had subjected her to was still fresh on her mind. Instead, the recently deceased grad student decided to play along. “So what are the benefits like here?” she settled on asking after a few moment’s internal debate.
The winged woman immediately perked up hearing her question. “You’re interested? Sorry, but we only get the standard public servant package here. 3 months mandatory paid vacation a year, dental, vision, et al. You know, the usual.”
“I think I can live with that,” said Bridget, fully aware of the issue with that claim.
“Wonderful! The name’s Jefischa. No last name. Celestials don’t have that sort of tradition like humans do. It’s good to be working with you.” Jefischa held out her hand for Bridget to shake. The angel woman’s eyebrow furrowed when her new co-worker’s arm feebly twitched on the armrest in an attempt to take it. Bridget was caught off guard to see a hint of worry creep into her eyes. “Ah, right. Sorry. I used a little bit of magic to keep you from sliding out of your chair until you woke up. Looks like it hasn’t worn off yet. In that case…”
“Wait! What are you doing!?” Jefischa lifted her new employee into a princess carry without so much as a by-your-leave. Bridget protested in indignation as she was carried out of the room through the hallways into what looked like a changing room. The grad-student-cum-new-angelic-employee was seated in front of one of the mirrors. Her every complaint was ignored as Jefischa took the opportunity to play with her like she was a dress up doll.
The results left the new employee in shock. Bridget had never been the sort of girl who believed that she deserved the moniker of being called beautiful. Settling for “reasonably pretty” with enough preparation had always been good enough. What Jefischa was showing her was that she hadn’t been all that good at it. Her long brown hair was neatly brushed back before being put into a stylish braid to hold it in place. Expert use of makeup subtly emphasized the contours of her face and her brown eyes while hiding blemishes like they’d never even been there. Bridget squawked protests the entire time she was unceremoniously stripped naked, but the blue and white version of Jefischa’s own dress she was fit into was inarguably better than her old bloodstained clothes. Her only real complaint was that the low cut revealed the large scar now between her breasts. Just looking at it in the mirror made her uncomfortably self-conscious.
“This is our uniform,” Jefischa instructed. She was busy tying some slits on the back closed that Bridget could only assume were normally there to allow wings to slip through. “We’ll have to get you the human version later. We have a high priority job lined up for when you can move again.”
“Didn’t you say I would get some training first?” Bridget asked with hesitation. It really felt like she was being thrown into the deep end right off the bat here.
The golden-haired angel chuckled. “I think you’ll find that this one is more important.” She produced a file in her hand with a flash of light before opening it for Bridget to see. The ex-college student’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head from the picture stapled to the page inside.
“Mary!” she shouted.
“Yep. Mary Walker. The woman who killed you.” Bridget would recognize that face anywhere. Mary Walker had been a university celebrity. Smart enough to be the top of every class she was in, beautiful to the point modeling companies dropped by the campus specifically to headhunt her, and a nigh-on saint kind and understanding with everybody she met yet impishly fun loving in a way that kept her from coming across as stuffy. Bridget herself had been lulled into enough of a false sense of security to accept the invitation when Mary had invited her to one of her famous house parties, unaware that beneath the facade was a psychotic killer who took pleasure in murdering her fellow students. “You’re not Ms. Walker’s first victim, just the first one I managed to intercept before you could get sent to Hell. She’s been sacrificing girls in demonic rituals in exchange for whatever she thinks will help make her more popular ever since high school. We’re being sent in to give her a taste of what awaits her in Hell if she doesn’t start repenting before it’s too late.”
Bridget wasn’t convinced that any amount of atonement would get her to forgive Mary, but she didn’t care at the moment. Jefischa was providing her with an opportunity for revenge served up on a silver platter. There wasn’t a chance in Hell she would pass up on that.
—--
Mary Walker hummed to herself while brushing her hair. Today was better than usual. Not only did she pull off another sacrifice without a hitch, the woman in question was that blasted Bridget Hayes. That woman had been a thorn in her side ever since the start of the school year, coming close to threatening her top spot in a couple of classes and soaking up some of the attention that rightfully belonged to her. Now that annoyance was out of her way and she’d managed to bargain her hair becoming even silkier than before at the same time. Two birds with one stone.
Putting her hairbrush down, the 24-year-old college grad student took one last opportunity to admire herself in the mirror. Her demonic contacts had made good on their promises to give her unmatched beauty. Auburn hair that had once been untameable and frizzy now washed over her shoulders in beautiful waves. Her light blue sleeveless t-shirt and pajama shorts were just transparent enough to give the viewer a hint of the flawless skin underneath, a far cry from the days she used to cover herself up in hoodies and long pants to hide her sallow complexion. At this point her appearance went beyond mere beauty. The demonic magic that suffused her very skin made her irresistible to man and woman alike. Her sheer, unnatural beauty had granted her a following that would quite literally kill for her. Half of her sacrifices wouldn’t have been possible if not for the legions at her beck and call helping cover up her crimes.
Standing up from her bedroom vanity, Mary rolled onto her bed with a contented sigh. She couldn’t wait for tomorrow. The demon had said she would have her improved hair by the time she woke up tomorrow morning. Just thinking about it made her giddy with excitement. With how beautiful she was now, just how radiant would she be after this one?
Lying flat on her back, Mary stretched her arms above her head with satisfaction, only to find that she couldn’t bring them back down for some reason. The grad student glanced above her head in confusion. What she saw baffled her. Rings of light had formed around her wrists. It was like they were riveted into the very air. No amount of tugging allowed her arms to budge even an inch.
“Good evening, Mary!” a voice cheerfully called out to her. Mary’s head snapped around towards the unexpected visitor.
“What are you doing here!?” the bound beauty yelped. If her arms were free she would’ve pinched herself, because she would’ve sworn that one of the two women who had mysteriously appeared in her room was none other than Bridget Hayes dressed in some sort of sexy priestess cosplay. She could even see the fresh scar from where she’d stabbed her. The other definitely made her believe she was dreaming, possessing an otherworldly beauty about her, feathered wings, and a halo floating in midair above her head.
“We are here to present to you a warning: Atone for thy sins or meet an eternity of suffering in the thereafter,” said the winged woman.
“We’re gonna tickle the fuck out of you until you apologize for all the bullshit you’ve pulled!” Bridget ruining the gravitas of her partner’s words apparently hadn’t been part of the script, because the winged woman shot her an angry glare completely at odds with the regal way she’d been acting a moment ago.
“Tickle me? What are you going on about? Hey, back off you pervs!” Seeing the winged woman begin to approach her, Mary’s foot lashed out with a kick. The winged woman leaned back out of range like she’d been expecting that before another ring of light formed around the college student’s ankle. Mary was left in the awkward position of her body twisting on the bed to accommodate her arms being locked in place above her head, but her leg was suspended in midair at about chest height off the side of the bed.
Jefischa calmly raised one hand to drag a single nail down the length of her target’s helpless sole. Mary’s body stiffened feeling the ticklish surges running down her leg. Her face went rigid with effort to keep from giggling.
“Nuh uh. Did you really think it would be that easy?” Mary’s eyes went wide when she realized Bridget had approached her as well. Her hated rival seated herself on the side of the bed to reach her hands towards Mary’s exposed armpits.
“Stop! Stop thathehehehAHAHAHA! Gehet away from meheheHEHEAHAHAhahaha! Someone. Someone hehelp! Sahave meheheheHOHOHOHOHOHOH!” Mary cried. As opposed to Jefischa’s light teasing, Bridget dove in with all fingers wiggling. The bound killer’s laughter echoed through the room feeling all 10 nails scrabbling all over her pits.
“Nobody’s gonna save you~,” taunted Bridget in a singsong voice.
“Your room has been removed from space and time to facilitate your punishment. No person will be able to interfere until we’re convinced you will atone for your misdeeds.”
“We could tickle you for years without stopping and nobody would be able to stop us!”
“NOOOOHEHEHhehehehAHAHAHAHAHA!” Mary screamed. Bridget’s use of her nails was amateurish, but Jefischa was proving more than effective enough to make up for it. The angel had given up on the teasing build up she usually took pleasure in and joined her new partner in going all out. All 10 of her long nails were focused on her victim’s foot. Trails of ticklish agony were left everywhere they touched to leave Mary shaking and howling with laughter, her foot futilely wiggling in search of relief without being able to escape the fingers in the slightest.
“She seems more ticklish in the center of her pits. Try focusing there,” Jefischa instructed as she worked.
Bridget took the advice with glee. “Roger!” Jefischa had given her some basic pointers before they’d headed out, all of which she’d forgotten the moment she’d laid eyes on Mary again. One of them came to mind realizing how quickly her fingers were tiring from their wild flailing: that focusing on a bad spot was more effective than just moving her nails quickly wherever she could reach. She slowed down a little to focus on making tiny scratches inside the depths of Mary’s hairless pits. A sense of accomplishment filled her watching her killer arch her back with a shriek in response before settling down into a stream of high-pitched cackling.
“Fuhuhck youhehehAHAHAHAHA BItchesHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Mary screamed. Her initial fear was converted into anger when help didn’t arrive. She lashed out at her tormentors with every bit of vitriol she could manage. Every harsh word was met with more tickles as punishment, which in turn made her angrier.
“Oi! That hurt!” Bridget complained. Mary had curled her free leg under her in order to kick Bridget in the side as hard as she could. The blow had knocked the surprised new-angelic-employee off the bed into lying sprawling on the bedroom floor. A globule of spittle landed on the floor next to her from Mary mustering what concentration she could to spit at her ticklers in defiance in between her bouts of laughter. “Oh that’s it…”
All discipline forgotten, Bridget launched herself back at Mary intending on punishing those ticklish armpits to the best of her ability. Jefischa sighed to herself watching the entire display play out. It was occurring to her that she probably should’ve taken some time to train her new coworker first after all.
“Okay. Okay, that’s enough.” The angel stopped tickling briefly and grabbed Bridget’s attention by putting her hand on the recently-deceased grad student’s shoulder. In her free hand was the hairbrush she’d picked up from Mary’s vanity. “There’s more effective ways of ramping things up if you want to get back at her. Try taking her feet for a while. These are typically pretty good there.”
Mary’s free leg kicked out a few more times in an attempt to fend them off only to have another ring of light form to hold it in place. Now left completely helpless, the killer college student could only watch as Bridget took a spot at her feet with a look of anticipation.
“NOoohohohoh! Nohot that! Anyhehething but thatHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHA!” Mary let out a high pitched scream feeling the hard round tips of the hairbrush make contact with her soles. Bridget was holding the brush by the head to scrub it all over her feet. Mary repeatedly tried to clench her toes in an attempt to block the intense ticklish sensations out, but no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t keep them tensed up for long. Her toes kept reflexively trying to pull back and spread out in response to their ticklish torment, leaving every single centimeter of flesh on her soles a free target for Bridget to abuse.
At the same time, Jefischa had taken the opportunity to roll up Mary’s t-shirt. The college student never wore a bra to bed, leading to magically perfect C-cups to be left exposed. Jefischa’s nails were darting all over in a perverse game. She would focus on the worst spots she could find on Mary’s armpits, ribs, sides, and stomach in order to make her helpless toy’s upper body twist and buck on the bed. Her eyes stayed transfixed on Mary’s breasts, taking pleasure in watching the melons jiggle all over the place in response to her tickling. Occasionally the pervy angel would treat herself by allowing her nails to come up to toy with her toy’s chest directly, skittering all over, gently stroking the milky white skin, and playing with her nipples, before going back to tickling for the pleasure of watching them bounce again.
Bridget was surprised by how much fun she was having at the moment. Tickling wasn’t something new to her life. She’d been the oldest girl of 3 in her family, and they’d pretty much unofficially taken turns holding each other down for a gang tickling. They had never gone that far though and it had never been amusing enough for her to have formed strong memories of any of it. Going wild, pushing a girl to the edge as best she could, was proving to be an entirely different beast.
It was downright arousing. Every scream of laughter that came out of Mary’s mouth was turning her on. Jefischa wasn’t the only one taking pleasure out of watching their victim struggle. Watching the gorgeous bound woman thrashing around on the bed as best her bondage would allow was filling the recently-deceased grad student with the urge to tickle her harder. She’d thrown out the threat of tickling for years as a taunt, but now that she’d gotten into a groove, the only reason she could see herself stopping was because her groin was starting to become uncomfortably hot.
All the same, Jesicha called for a rest after nearly 20 minutes of play. It was more for the benefit of letting them shake out their arms than for Mary’s sake, but the demon-worshiping woman was happy to take the opportunity to wheeze for breath all the same.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, half in tears by this point.
“Revenge. You’re the one who murdered me,” Bridget pointed out before Jefischa could speak. The angel lightly punched her in the arm with a reproachful look on her face.
“This is a warning. Continue down your current path and this hellish treatment is what awaits you in the afterlife.”
“You get tickled in Hell!?”
“Yep! It’ll be a thousand times worse than what we’re putting you through, and they’ll literally tickle you for forever.” Bridget silently hoped that she’d gotten that one right. That had just been a guess. Judging by the fact that Jefischa didn’t reprimand her for speaking out of turn for once nor add in a correction, it looked like she was right on the money.
“P-please! I’m sorry. I’ll be good from now on! You’ll never hear another peep from me again. Just stop tickling me!” Mary pleaded.
Jefischa stared at her in concentration. As an angel, she could more or less get a measure on the state of a person’s soul by looking at them. “I’m sorry, little one, but that’s not good enough. What we require is true repentance, not an apology.”
“Ooooooh. Bad girl. Baaaad girl,” Bridget taunted. “Already done after just a little bit of tickle wickles? We aren’t gonna stop until you’re sorry all the way down to the bottom of your soles!”
The cheesy pun was the last of Mary’s worries. Both the angel and her rival had hopped onto the bed to tag team her upper body from either side. Her butt raised as high as it could off the bed from 20 fingers simultaneously being put to work on her sides all at once. Slamming it back down on the bed, she let out a blood curdling scream. Jefischa had discovered that the sides were her worst spot earlier and having both women working on them together was proving to be her harshest punishment yet.
Bridget and Mary both lost track of time soon after. Mary was too overwhelmed by the relentless tickling to be aware of much else. She was left purely reacting to her tormentors’ every touch, laughing, struggling, and screaming to the demands of their fingers, brushes, and feathers. On the opposite end, the only thing on Bridget’s mind was the need to tickle. A sense of euphoria had come over to her realizing that they had successfully pushed Mary over the edge into pure suffering. The only thing she could think of was the need to continue hammering her new tickle toy with everything she had.
—--
Bridget savored the gentle popping sensations that ran through her shoulders and neck caused by her stretching. It hadn’t occurred to her how tired her body was getting until Jefischa called a halt to their session with Mary for good. The pair had returned to the office via a portal the angel opened in the doorway immediately after.
“I’m surprised. I wouldn’t expect a couple hours of tickling to be all it takes to fix a person’s morals,” the new employee commented.
“It’s probably not,” replied Jefischa. It looks like she’d dropped the whole “stuffy holy angel” schtick the moment they got back. The angel explained further with a sheepish look on her face. “Ms. Walker will only remember everything we did as a bad nightmare. Maybe, if we’re lucky, she’ll also have the vague idea that she wouldn’t like ending up in Hell after all, but that’s really the extent of what we can do. The other angels wouldn’t let me keep my job if we managed to traumatize a mortal with our sessions.”
“Damn. Sucks to be her.” Bridget tried to end the conversation then and there. She glanced around nervously. Something else was occurring to her now that she’d calmed down: She was aroused. Painfully so. Tickle torturing Mary had turned her on like nothing she had ever experienced before, and now that things had calmed down a little it was almost impossible to concentrate. She was really wishing there was a bathroom or some other private area she could use to relieve herself in. “Hey, uh, do we have a bathroom around here?” she asked, then stopped in bewilderment. “...what are you doing?”
For whatever reason, Jefischa had begun to disrobe right in front of her. The angel had stripped to just her panties by the time the ex-grad student looked back at her. “You’re obviously not that used to tickling yet, and I’m also a little pent up after all that fun. I think we’d both enjoy it if you got in some practice before we called it a day.”Jefischa explained with a wink. Bridget couldn’t believe that she was actually blushing at the moment. Seeing naked women wasn’t exactly new to her, she was perfectly aware of her own sexuality and old enough to have slept with a couple different girlfriends by this point, but hearing the angel say that made her mind go blank.
“Uh… Wait. You’re into that?” Jefischa turned around and started walking towards the door, beckoning over her shoulder for Bridget to follow as she went. “Wait! Hold on!” The new employee was practically tripping over herself in her haste to follow. It was starting to sink in that she truly was in Heaven.
Bridget watched helplessly as the woman clad in a burlap robe took a kitchen knife in her hands. The cultists had made certain to tie her hands and feet together with lengths of rope to keep her from escaping the pentagram drawn on the floor in chicken blood and lit candles.
“See you in hell, bitch,” the knife wielding cultist taunted. The downright evil smile plastered across her face as she raised the blade above her head with both hands sent a surge of anger through the bound Bridget.
“Fuck you, Mary,” she spat with all the hatred she could muster.
The grad student reflexively closed her eyes seeing Mary swing the knife down towards her with both hands. It didn’t do anything to block out the sensation of the blade smashing through her chest right between her breasts.
—--
“Hello.” Bridget heard a voice call out to her. She refused to open her eyes. The idea that someone was calling out to her was patently ridiculous. Someone had just stabbed her in the heart. She was dead. You didn’t hear people talking to you when you were dead. “Hello. Hey. Helloooooo. Heaven to human.” The voice was persistent though. Whoever it was, a woman by Bridget’s best guess, continued to call out to her regardless.
Bridget caved and cracked an eye open the barest amount possible. Peering through her eyelashes, she could make out a woman looking at her with worry. She probably would’ve been Bridget’s type under normal circumstances. Her face had an alluring sharpness to it with a small mouth and eyes that gave the impression that they saw right through you. Her body was covered by an elaborate white and gold dress that wouldn’t have struck her as out of place in a religious ceremony, except it was oddly sexualized, having a long slit up the side of the skirt to show off her leg and was low cut enough to bare a large amount of her ample cleavage. What rather ruined the whole package were the white feathered wings sprouting out of her back and shining halo hanging over her long golden hair.
‘I’ve gone crazy. Dying drove me crazy and I’m spending the last moments of my life having a fever dream,’ Bridget thought to herself. You didn’t see women like this in reality, not outside of shady cosplay brothels and most of the people who worked in those couldn’t put together a getup this realistic looking. None of this situation made sense the more she examined it. She’d been lying on her back with her limbs bound when Mary killed her and now she was sitting slumped in some sort of high back chair. The now-dead grad student could remember dreams that had been as disorienting as this.
“Is she okay? Nothing went wrong when I picked her up, did it?” The dream winged woman continued to talk to herself out loud. Bridget shut her eye again. Ignoring everything was the best way she could think of getting it all over with. There was very important dying business she needed to get back to, after all.
What the grad student wasn’t expecting was to feel something dig into her rib cage moments later. Instinctively flinching off to the side, Bridget broke out giggling. “Whahat are you doinghehehe!?” she protested.
“Oh, so you’re okay after all.” Bridget responding didn’t stop her from tickling though. In fact, she ramped it up. The winged woman’s free hand came in to sink into the opposite side of her rib cage. Bridget reflexively tried to press her arms against her sides to protect herself, but found that they wouldn’t budge from the armrests. Attempting to squirm away only resulted in her body twitching a little. The grad student was left being forced to produce a stream of giggles as the woman continued to expertly abuse her sensitive ribs.
“Stohohohop! Stop ihithehehAHAHAHA!” Bridget shrieked. “I’m awake NOHOHOWhehehehahAHAHA!”
“But you didn’t respond at all until I started tickling you. I have to keep going or you’ll be quiet again.” The small smile that had formed on the winged woman’s lips let Bridget know that she was teasing her.
“I’m SOHORRYHAHAHAhahaha! I’ll tahalkheheAHAhahaHAHA! I’LL TAhalkhehehehe” Bridget cried.
“I’m certain you will.” Despite her reassurances, she continued to toy with Bridget’s ribs for another couple minutes before stopping. She’d just discovered that the top of the rib cage right where the ribs met the armpits got the college student to throw her head back with laughter and she was having too much fun playing with it to let the helpless human off easy. When she was done, Bridget slumped over gasping for breath. “Next time, please respond when someone talks to you. It’s very rude to ignore them.” Bridget wasn’t certain she liked the idea of being chastised for her manners by a woman who had spent the past several minutes torturously toying with her body for fun, but she wasn’t in a good position to argue.
“Right. Let’s get started then.” The winged woman tapped her foot on the ground. Out of thin air sprang a low coffee table. She made a show of picking up a pair of glasses off the coffee table and putting them on before grabbing a nearby pen. “Now, how much experience would you say you have with tickle torturing someone?”
“I… Uh, what? None…?” Bridget was so caught off guard by the question that she answered on reflex. The winged woman harrumphed and made a note on her paper.
“That’s fine. We’ll just start training from the beginning then. What would you say your views are on the topic of eternal damnation?”
“I’m sorry. What is this?” Bridget asked in bewilderment.
The winged woman looked at her with surprise. “A job interview, of course.”
“Why am I undergoing a job interview!?” Bridget blurted out before she could stop herself.
“Because I need employees,” said the winged woman like it was the most obvious conclusion in the world. Seeing that her answer had only served to make Bridget more confused, she explained further. “Look, my department doesn’t have anybody else in it anymore. The only people in this building these days are me and the janitor who drops by to vacuum every Thursday. Nobody wants to work in Behavioral Corrections. Torturing mortals as a demonstration of what will happen to them if they don’t shape up is considered too cruel a job for most celestials. Most of them would rather put their time towards making Heaven a more enjoyable place to stay in.”
It was becoming apparent to Bridget that this was a sore spot for the winged woman. Her complaints turned out to be building up a good head of steam for a rant.
“So what if it’s cruel? What, is it better to just leave them to suffer for an eternity in Hell!?” Bridget shook her head the moment she realized the winged woman was waiting for her to answer. At this point the grad student was so lost she figured she’d just pretend to understand until the world started making sense again. “And for that matter, tickling isn’t weird, dammit. It’s sexy! Angels these days don’t know the pleasure of having someone take control of you with just the tips of their fingers!”
Bridget was about to ask what any of this had to do with her, then thought better of it. The tickling the woman had subjected her to was still fresh on her mind. Instead, the recently deceased grad student decided to play along. “So what are the benefits like here?” she settled on asking after a few moment’s internal debate.
The winged woman immediately perked up hearing her question. “You’re interested? Sorry, but we only get the standard public servant package here. 3 months mandatory paid vacation a year, dental, vision, et al. You know, the usual.”
“I think I can live with that,” said Bridget, fully aware of the issue with that claim.
“Wonderful! The name’s Jefischa. No last name. Celestials don’t have that sort of tradition like humans do. It’s good to be working with you.” Jefischa held out her hand for Bridget to shake. The angel woman’s eyebrow furrowed when her new co-worker’s arm feebly twitched on the armrest in an attempt to take it. Bridget was caught off guard to see a hint of worry creep into her eyes. “Ah, right. Sorry. I used a little bit of magic to keep you from sliding out of your chair until you woke up. Looks like it hasn’t worn off yet. In that case…”
“Wait! What are you doing!?” Jefischa lifted her new employee into a princess carry without so much as a by-your-leave. Bridget protested in indignation as she was carried out of the room through the hallways into what looked like a changing room. The grad-student-cum-new-angelic-employee was seated in front of one of the mirrors. Her every complaint was ignored as Jefischa took the opportunity to play with her like she was a dress up doll.
The results left the new employee in shock. Bridget had never been the sort of girl who believed that she deserved the moniker of being called beautiful. Settling for “reasonably pretty” with enough preparation had always been good enough. What Jefischa was showing her was that she hadn’t been all that good at it. Her long brown hair was neatly brushed back before being put into a stylish braid to hold it in place. Expert use of makeup subtly emphasized the contours of her face and her brown eyes while hiding blemishes like they’d never even been there. Bridget squawked protests the entire time she was unceremoniously stripped naked, but the blue and white version of Jefischa’s own dress she was fit into was inarguably better than her old bloodstained clothes. Her only real complaint was that the low cut revealed the large scar now between her breasts. Just looking at it in the mirror made her uncomfortably self-conscious.
“This is our uniform,” Jefischa instructed. She was busy tying some slits on the back closed that Bridget could only assume were normally there to allow wings to slip through. “We’ll have to get you the human version later. We have a high priority job lined up for when you can move again.”
“Didn’t you say I would get some training first?” Bridget asked with hesitation. It really felt like she was being thrown into the deep end right off the bat here.
The golden-haired angel chuckled. “I think you’ll find that this one is more important.” She produced a file in her hand with a flash of light before opening it for Bridget to see. The ex-college student’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head from the picture stapled to the page inside.
“Mary!” she shouted.
“Yep. Mary Walker. The woman who killed you.” Bridget would recognize that face anywhere. Mary Walker had been a university celebrity. Smart enough to be the top of every class she was in, beautiful to the point modeling companies dropped by the campus specifically to headhunt her, and a nigh-on saint kind and understanding with everybody she met yet impishly fun loving in a way that kept her from coming across as stuffy. Bridget herself had been lulled into enough of a false sense of security to accept the invitation when Mary had invited her to one of her famous house parties, unaware that beneath the facade was a psychotic killer who took pleasure in murdering her fellow students. “You’re not Ms. Walker’s first victim, just the first one I managed to intercept before you could get sent to Hell. She’s been sacrificing girls in demonic rituals in exchange for whatever she thinks will help make her more popular ever since high school. We’re being sent in to give her a taste of what awaits her in Hell if she doesn’t start repenting before it’s too late.”
Bridget wasn’t convinced that any amount of atonement would get her to forgive Mary, but she didn’t care at the moment. Jefischa was providing her with an opportunity for revenge served up on a silver platter. There wasn’t a chance in Hell she would pass up on that.
—--
Mary Walker hummed to herself while brushing her hair. Today was better than usual. Not only did she pull off another sacrifice without a hitch, the woman in question was that blasted Bridget Hayes. That woman had been a thorn in her side ever since the start of the school year, coming close to threatening her top spot in a couple of classes and soaking up some of the attention that rightfully belonged to her. Now that annoyance was out of her way and she’d managed to bargain her hair becoming even silkier than before at the same time. Two birds with one stone.
Putting her hairbrush down, the 24-year-old college grad student took one last opportunity to admire herself in the mirror. Her demonic contacts had made good on their promises to give her unmatched beauty. Auburn hair that had once been untameable and frizzy now washed over her shoulders in beautiful waves. Her light blue sleeveless t-shirt and pajama shorts were just transparent enough to give the viewer a hint of the flawless skin underneath, a far cry from the days she used to cover herself up in hoodies and long pants to hide her sallow complexion. At this point her appearance went beyond mere beauty. The demonic magic that suffused her very skin made her irresistible to man and woman alike. Her sheer, unnatural beauty had granted her a following that would quite literally kill for her. Half of her sacrifices wouldn’t have been possible if not for the legions at her beck and call helping cover up her crimes.
Standing up from her bedroom vanity, Mary rolled onto her bed with a contented sigh. She couldn’t wait for tomorrow. The demon had said she would have her improved hair by the time she woke up tomorrow morning. Just thinking about it made her giddy with excitement. With how beautiful she was now, just how radiant would she be after this one?
Lying flat on her back, Mary stretched her arms above her head with satisfaction, only to find that she couldn’t bring them back down for some reason. The grad student glanced above her head in confusion. What she saw baffled her. Rings of light had formed around her wrists. It was like they were riveted into the very air. No amount of tugging allowed her arms to budge even an inch.
“Good evening, Mary!” a voice cheerfully called out to her. Mary’s head snapped around towards the unexpected visitor.
“What are you doing here!?” the bound beauty yelped. If her arms were free she would’ve pinched herself, because she would’ve sworn that one of the two women who had mysteriously appeared in her room was none other than Bridget Hayes dressed in some sort of sexy priestess cosplay. She could even see the fresh scar from where she’d stabbed her. The other definitely made her believe she was dreaming, possessing an otherworldly beauty about her, feathered wings, and a halo floating in midair above her head.
“We are here to present to you a warning: Atone for thy sins or meet an eternity of suffering in the thereafter,” said the winged woman.
“We’re gonna tickle the fuck out of you until you apologize for all the bullshit you’ve pulled!” Bridget ruining the gravitas of her partner’s words apparently hadn’t been part of the script, because the winged woman shot her an angry glare completely at odds with the regal way she’d been acting a moment ago.
“Tickle me? What are you going on about? Hey, back off you pervs!” Seeing the winged woman begin to approach her, Mary’s foot lashed out with a kick. The winged woman leaned back out of range like she’d been expecting that before another ring of light formed around the college student’s ankle. Mary was left in the awkward position of her body twisting on the bed to accommodate her arms being locked in place above her head, but her leg was suspended in midair at about chest height off the side of the bed.
Jefischa calmly raised one hand to drag a single nail down the length of her target’s helpless sole. Mary’s body stiffened feeling the ticklish surges running down her leg. Her face went rigid with effort to keep from giggling.
“Nuh uh. Did you really think it would be that easy?” Mary’s eyes went wide when she realized Bridget had approached her as well. Her hated rival seated herself on the side of the bed to reach her hands towards Mary’s exposed armpits.
“Stop! Stop thathehehehAHAHAHA! Gehet away from meheheHEHEAHAHAhahaha! Someone. Someone hehelp! Sahave meheheheHOHOHOHOHOHOH!” Mary cried. As opposed to Jefischa’s light teasing, Bridget dove in with all fingers wiggling. The bound killer’s laughter echoed through the room feeling all 10 nails scrabbling all over her pits.
“Nobody’s gonna save you~,” taunted Bridget in a singsong voice.
“Your room has been removed from space and time to facilitate your punishment. No person will be able to interfere until we’re convinced you will atone for your misdeeds.”
“We could tickle you for years without stopping and nobody would be able to stop us!”
“NOOOOHEHEHhehehehAHAHAHAHAHA!” Mary screamed. Bridget’s use of her nails was amateurish, but Jefischa was proving more than effective enough to make up for it. The angel had given up on the teasing build up she usually took pleasure in and joined her new partner in going all out. All 10 of her long nails were focused on her victim’s foot. Trails of ticklish agony were left everywhere they touched to leave Mary shaking and howling with laughter, her foot futilely wiggling in search of relief without being able to escape the fingers in the slightest.
“She seems more ticklish in the center of her pits. Try focusing there,” Jefischa instructed as she worked.
Bridget took the advice with glee. “Roger!” Jefischa had given her some basic pointers before they’d headed out, all of which she’d forgotten the moment she’d laid eyes on Mary again. One of them came to mind realizing how quickly her fingers were tiring from their wild flailing: that focusing on a bad spot was more effective than just moving her nails quickly wherever she could reach. She slowed down a little to focus on making tiny scratches inside the depths of Mary’s hairless pits. A sense of accomplishment filled her watching her killer arch her back with a shriek in response before settling down into a stream of high-pitched cackling.
“Fuhuhck youhehehAHAHAHAHA BItchesHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Mary screamed. Her initial fear was converted into anger when help didn’t arrive. She lashed out at her tormentors with every bit of vitriol she could manage. Every harsh word was met with more tickles as punishment, which in turn made her angrier.
“Oi! That hurt!” Bridget complained. Mary had curled her free leg under her in order to kick Bridget in the side as hard as she could. The blow had knocked the surprised new-angelic-employee off the bed into lying sprawling on the bedroom floor. A globule of spittle landed on the floor next to her from Mary mustering what concentration she could to spit at her ticklers in defiance in between her bouts of laughter. “Oh that’s it…”
All discipline forgotten, Bridget launched herself back at Mary intending on punishing those ticklish armpits to the best of her ability. Jefischa sighed to herself watching the entire display play out. It was occurring to her that she probably should’ve taken some time to train her new coworker first after all.
“Okay. Okay, that’s enough.” The angel stopped tickling briefly and grabbed Bridget’s attention by putting her hand on the recently-deceased grad student’s shoulder. In her free hand was the hairbrush she’d picked up from Mary’s vanity. “There’s more effective ways of ramping things up if you want to get back at her. Try taking her feet for a while. These are typically pretty good there.”
Mary’s free leg kicked out a few more times in an attempt to fend them off only to have another ring of light form to hold it in place. Now left completely helpless, the killer college student could only watch as Bridget took a spot at her feet with a look of anticipation.
“NOoohohohoh! Nohot that! Anyhehething but thatHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHA!” Mary let out a high pitched scream feeling the hard round tips of the hairbrush make contact with her soles. Bridget was holding the brush by the head to scrub it all over her feet. Mary repeatedly tried to clench her toes in an attempt to block the intense ticklish sensations out, but no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t keep them tensed up for long. Her toes kept reflexively trying to pull back and spread out in response to their ticklish torment, leaving every single centimeter of flesh on her soles a free target for Bridget to abuse.
At the same time, Jefischa had taken the opportunity to roll up Mary’s t-shirt. The college student never wore a bra to bed, leading to magically perfect C-cups to be left exposed. Jefischa’s nails were darting all over in a perverse game. She would focus on the worst spots she could find on Mary’s armpits, ribs, sides, and stomach in order to make her helpless toy’s upper body twist and buck on the bed. Her eyes stayed transfixed on Mary’s breasts, taking pleasure in watching the melons jiggle all over the place in response to her tickling. Occasionally the pervy angel would treat herself by allowing her nails to come up to toy with her toy’s chest directly, skittering all over, gently stroking the milky white skin, and playing with her nipples, before going back to tickling for the pleasure of watching them bounce again.
Bridget was surprised by how much fun she was having at the moment. Tickling wasn’t something new to her life. She’d been the oldest girl of 3 in her family, and they’d pretty much unofficially taken turns holding each other down for a gang tickling. They had never gone that far though and it had never been amusing enough for her to have formed strong memories of any of it. Going wild, pushing a girl to the edge as best she could, was proving to be an entirely different beast.
It was downright arousing. Every scream of laughter that came out of Mary’s mouth was turning her on. Jefischa wasn’t the only one taking pleasure out of watching their victim struggle. Watching the gorgeous bound woman thrashing around on the bed as best her bondage would allow was filling the recently-deceased grad student with the urge to tickle her harder. She’d thrown out the threat of tickling for years as a taunt, but now that she’d gotten into a groove, the only reason she could see herself stopping was because her groin was starting to become uncomfortably hot.
All the same, Jesicha called for a rest after nearly 20 minutes of play. It was more for the benefit of letting them shake out their arms than for Mary’s sake, but the demon-worshiping woman was happy to take the opportunity to wheeze for breath all the same.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, half in tears by this point.
“Revenge. You’re the one who murdered me,” Bridget pointed out before Jefischa could speak. The angel lightly punched her in the arm with a reproachful look on her face.
“This is a warning. Continue down your current path and this hellish treatment is what awaits you in the afterlife.”
“You get tickled in Hell!?”
“Yep! It’ll be a thousand times worse than what we’re putting you through, and they’ll literally tickle you for forever.” Bridget silently hoped that she’d gotten that one right. That had just been a guess. Judging by the fact that Jefischa didn’t reprimand her for speaking out of turn for once nor add in a correction, it looked like she was right on the money.
“P-please! I’m sorry. I’ll be good from now on! You’ll never hear another peep from me again. Just stop tickling me!” Mary pleaded.
Jefischa stared at her in concentration. As an angel, she could more or less get a measure on the state of a person’s soul by looking at them. “I’m sorry, little one, but that’s not good enough. What we require is true repentance, not an apology.”
“Ooooooh. Bad girl. Baaaad girl,” Bridget taunted. “Already done after just a little bit of tickle wickles? We aren’t gonna stop until you’re sorry all the way down to the bottom of your soles!”
The cheesy pun was the last of Mary’s worries. Both the angel and her rival had hopped onto the bed to tag team her upper body from either side. Her butt raised as high as it could off the bed from 20 fingers simultaneously being put to work on her sides all at once. Slamming it back down on the bed, she let out a blood curdling scream. Jefischa had discovered that the sides were her worst spot earlier and having both women working on them together was proving to be her harshest punishment yet.
Bridget and Mary both lost track of time soon after. Mary was too overwhelmed by the relentless tickling to be aware of much else. She was left purely reacting to her tormentors’ every touch, laughing, struggling, and screaming to the demands of their fingers, brushes, and feathers. On the opposite end, the only thing on Bridget’s mind was the need to tickle. A sense of euphoria had come over to her realizing that they had successfully pushed Mary over the edge into pure suffering. The only thing she could think of was the need to continue hammering her new tickle toy with everything she had.
—--
Bridget savored the gentle popping sensations that ran through her shoulders and neck caused by her stretching. It hadn’t occurred to her how tired her body was getting until Jefischa called a halt to their session with Mary for good. The pair had returned to the office via a portal the angel opened in the doorway immediately after.
“I’m surprised. I wouldn’t expect a couple hours of tickling to be all it takes to fix a person’s morals,” the new employee commented.
“It’s probably not,” replied Jefischa. It looks like she’d dropped the whole “stuffy holy angel” schtick the moment they got back. The angel explained further with a sheepish look on her face. “Ms. Walker will only remember everything we did as a bad nightmare. Maybe, if we’re lucky, she’ll also have the vague idea that she wouldn’t like ending up in Hell after all, but that’s really the extent of what we can do. The other angels wouldn’t let me keep my job if we managed to traumatize a mortal with our sessions.”
“Damn. Sucks to be her.” Bridget tried to end the conversation then and there. She glanced around nervously. Something else was occurring to her now that she’d calmed down: She was aroused. Painfully so. Tickle torturing Mary had turned her on like nothing she had ever experienced before, and now that things had calmed down a little it was almost impossible to concentrate. She was really wishing there was a bathroom or some other private area she could use to relieve herself in. “Hey, uh, do we have a bathroom around here?” she asked, then stopped in bewilderment. “...what are you doing?”
For whatever reason, Jefischa had begun to disrobe right in front of her. The angel had stripped to just her panties by the time the ex-grad student looked back at her. “You’re obviously not that used to tickling yet, and I’m also a little pent up after all that fun. I think we’d both enjoy it if you got in some practice before we called it a day.”Jefischa explained with a wink. Bridget couldn’t believe that she was actually blushing at the moment. Seeing naked women wasn’t exactly new to her, she was perfectly aware of her own sexuality and old enough to have slept with a couple different girlfriends by this point, but hearing the angel say that made her mind go blank.
“Uh… Wait. You’re into that?” Jefischa turned around and started walking towards the door, beckoning over her shoulder for Bridget to follow as she went. “Wait! Hold on!” The new employee was practically tripping over herself in her haste to follow. It was starting to sink in that she truly was in Heaven.
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