Hellish laugh

You die through an accident an find yourself in hell. To your surprise you meet an succubus who is the hottest Woman you ever met. She asks you what your biggest weakness is

The air smelled like burnt leather and something sweetly rotten. Flames licked the jagged rocks around me, casting flickering shadows over the cracked ground. Hell. Fucking fantastic. Then she stepped into view—tall, curves that defied physics, skin like polished obsidian. A succubus. Her grin was all teeth, her hips swaying with every step. "Welcome," she purred, dragging a claw down my chest. "You’re mine now." I swallowed hard. Her scent—smoke and jasmine—wrapped around me, tightening my throat. "Tell me," she murmured, leaning in until her breath scorched my ear. "What’s your biggest weakness?" My pulse hammered. I knew the answer before I said it. "Ticklishness." Her laugh was low, wicked. "Oh, sweet thing. That’s not a weakness." Her fingers skimmed up my ribs, light as feathers, and I jerked against her grip. "That’s leverage." Her nails traced the sensitive hollows of my hips, my sides, my thighs—every spot that made me twitch and gasp. I bit back a laugh, but she only grinned wider, her touch deliberate, relentless. "Let’s see how long you last." Her fingers danced lower, teasing, and I arched against her, helpless.

Her claws dug into my shoulders as she shoved me backward onto the rough wooden rack. The leather cuffs snapped tight around my wrists and ankles before I could even think to struggle. The restraints were cool against my skin, but the way they held me—spread wide, completely exposed—sent heat flooding through me. "Better," she murmured, dragging a single nail down the center of my chest. "Now I can *really* get to work." Her fingers traced the arch of my foot first—slow, torturous circles that made my toes curl. I sucked in a breath, hips jerking against the restraints. "Ah-ah." She clicked her tongue, pinning me with a smirk. "No squirming." Then her touch was everywhere—the dip of my waist, the soft skin behind my knees, the sensitive curve of my inner thighs. Every teasing stroke had me gasping, laughter bubbling up despite my clenched jaw. "You’re *adorable* when you try to hold back," she purred, leaning down to nip at my earlobe. Her free hand skated up my ribs, fingers spidering mercilessly. I broke. Laughter tore from my throat as I writhed, the rack creaking beneath me. Her delighted chuckle vibrated against my skin. "Oh, we’re just getting started." Her nails scraped lower, tracing the crease of my hip. "Let’s see what other sounds I can pull from you."

Her grin widened as she reached for something just out of my sight—then returned with two long, wicked feather dusters, their plumes soft and teasingly full. "Double the fun," she murmured, dragging one slowly up the sole of my foot while the other traced maddening circles along my inner thigh. I choked on a gasp, my back arching off the rack as sensation crackled through me. The feathers were relentless—light, torturous, flicking and stroking everywhere at once. One teased the sensitive skin just below my ribs while the other fluttered against my collarbone, and I bucked against the restraints, laughter and moans spilling out in equal measure. "Look at you," she cooed, dragging the feathers down my sides in perfect, synchronized strokes. "So *responsive*." The feathers dipped lower, tracing the crease where thigh met hip, and my breath hitched. She chuckled darkly, adjusting her grip—then flicked both dusters in rapid, alternating patterns across my stomach, my ribs, my thighs. I was trembling, sweat-slicked, completely at her mercy. And from the hunger in her eyes, she was far from done. "Now," she murmured, leaning close enough for her breath to scorch my ear. "Let’s see how loud you *really* get." The feathers danced lower.

Her fingers abandoned the feathers, nails scraping down my stomach with deliberate, slow pressure. I shuddered, muscles tightening as she leaned in, her lips brushing my ear. "Did I say you could relax?" Before I could answer, the air shifted—warm, perfumed, thick with something sweet and dangerous. Shadows pooled at the edges of the room, and then *they* emerged—three figures, all curves and sharp smiles, their eyes gleaming with mischief. "Playtime?" purred the tallest, running a clawed hand through my hair. The second traced a nail along my jaw, her touch like fire. "He’s *deliciously* sensitive." The third simply laughed, low and throaty, her fingers already dancing along my ribs. My captor smirked, dragging her nails down my chest again—harder this time, leaving faint pink trails. "Oh, he’s just getting started." Then they were everywhere—hands, nails, teeth, each touch calculated to wring gasps and shudders from me. One teased the shell of my ear while another scraped her claws down my inner thigh, the third tracing slow, torturous circles around my nipples. I arched, straining against the restraints, but there was no escape—only sensation, overwhelming and relentless. "Such pretty noises," my captor murmured, her nails digging into my hip. "Let’s hear more." The succubi laughed in unison, their touches growing bolder, hungrier. And I was utterly, deliciously *theirs*.

The tallest succubus traced a claw down my sternum, her grin widening as I twitched beneath her touch. "Oh, but we *do* love an audience," she purred, snapping her fingers. The shadows shifted again, and a sleek, metallic contraption slid forward from the darkness—a padded frame lined with rotating brushes, soft feathers, and nimble mechanical fingers. My breath hitched. "All-body, you said?" The second succubus ran her tongue over her fangs, guiding me toward the machine with a push. "Let’s see how *thorough* we can be." The restraints clicked open just long enough for them to strap me into the new device, my wrists and ankles secured to the frame. The third succubus adjusted a dial, and the machine hummed to life, the brushes spinning lazily near my bare soles. "Wait—" I gasped, but my captor silenced me with a finger to my lips. "Shhh. Just *feel*." The first feather-light pass of the brushes had me jerking against the restraints. Then the fingers joined in—skittering up my sides, teasing my ribs, tracing maddening circles on my hips. The succubi watched, their eyes dark with amusement as the machine worked me over, every inch of skin alive with sensation. "Look at him *squirm*," one murmured, dragging a nail down my thigh just as the mechanical fingers found the sensitive spot beneath my arm. I writhed, laughter and moans spilling out in equal measure, completely at the mercy of the machine—and their hungry, delighted stares. "Good," my captor whispered, turning the dial higher. "Now *beg*."

The tallest succubus leaned in, her breath hot against my ear as the machine’s relentless fingers danced over my ribs. "Did you think this was just *playtime*?" she murmured, her claws tracing idle patterns on my chest. "No, pet. This is *forever*." The second succubus flicked a switch, and the brushes intensified, their soft bristles swirling against my soles while nimble mechanical fingers spider-walked up my inner thighs. I bucked against the restraints, but the machine only tightened its grip, adjusting to my every squirm. "Every gasp," the third succubus purred, dragging a single claw down my stomach, "every shudder—*ours*." She tapped the dial, and the tickling became unbearable, feather-light touches alternating with sharp, teasing flicks against my most sensitive spots. My captor circled me like a predator, her smirk widening as I gasped for breath between laughter. "Eternity is *long*," she whispered, her nails digging into my hip just as the machine’s fingers found the hollows behind my knees. "And we *never* get tired of watching you break." The succubi’s laughter curled around me, dark and sweet, as the machine redoubled its efforts—every inch of me alight with merciless sensation. "Welcome," my captor murmured, "to your new existence." And then the *real* torment began.