It was boring work--if one could call this work--but not necessarily more unpleasant than flipping burgers or other menial jobs. It was inconvenient when she wanted to scratch an itch, but that was a minor irritant, compared to what Aunt Vivian had done to get her to agree to this. Rope bound her wrists behind her and around the wooden post, while more rope was wrapped around her upper body holding it to the post as well. She was sitting on a rough wooden bench, on which her mother had kindly placed a cushion. The simple white cotton sleeveless dress with the hem just above her knees, sewn by her mother, was not uncomfortable at all. It was low cut and showed off her lovely cleavage, which was her own idea. Her father had objected to that, but as usual had lost the argument.

She looked at her bare legs where the ankles disappeared in the wooden stocks and wiggled her toes a little, something she always did when visitors came in and saw her bare feet. Nobody was in the dungeon at the moment, but that didn’t last long. A minute later, her sister Karen came in with a family of four. Linda Johnson hoped her boredom looked like suffering; she did like to play the part correctly.

"And this is the dungeon," said Karen, "one of the most popular exhibits in the museum. As you can see, this wench is being punished." She gestured to Linda.

Linda looked at her sister with half open eyes. Wench?

The father looked lustily at the trapped girl in the museum, imagining her trying out the other "equipment" in the dungeon, then looked at his wife, wondering if he could talk her into something like this. The withering look she returned said clearly and silently, "Don’t even think about it."

"Part of the punishment," continued Karen, "includes tickling the feet." She walked over to Linda, whose eyes grew wide in fear. The stocks were big enough that Linda couldn’t see her bare feet at all, which made it worse because she didn’t know exactly when it would happen. Linda tensed as soon as Karen was in tickling range, and then screamed and giggled when she felt the fingers on her soles, watching her legs twitch in a futile effort to escape the tickling. Karen only kept it up a few seconds to demonstrate, and when she stopped, Linda relaxed and let her head drop.

The two kids, a boy and girl about seven years of age, giggled at seeing somebody get tickled, while the father, who loved feet, felt his pants tightening. He was about to ask Karen for another demonstration, but his wife nudged him painfully in the ribs. No, he wasn’t going to see Linda get any more punishment, and he wasn’t going to get any relief from his wife that night if he wasn’t careful. Sometimes, life didn’t seem fair at all.

The little girl asked, "What is she being punished for?"

That question caught Karen by surprise. If there were only adults in the room, she would have said it was for infidelity or other lewd conduct, but that wouldn’t do with kids present. "She is guilty of...," said Karen, trying to think quickly, "of an indiscretion!"

The children’s eyes grew wide at that news, and they looked at each other in amazement. Neither thought to ask what an indiscretion was. At their age, the world was full of words they didn’t understand, and this was just another. It had to be serious, however, for the poor girl to be punished so badly.

The wife grabbed her husband’s arm, and nearly jerked him off his feet as she headed for the door. "Come on kids," she said.

As soon as they were gone, Linda said, "Who are you calling a wench, bitch?"

"Bitch?"

"Yeah, bitch!" Anything to relieve the boredom, thought Linda, no matter how inadvisable.

"Which one of us is tied up right now, wench?" Karen approached her menacingly, with her hands like claws aiming for her sister’s feet.

"I am, only because I’m better at it...bitch. Hahahahahaha." Linda screamed and shrieked as she felt the light agonizing touch on her soles. After a minute, Karen stopped.

"You want more of this? Huh?"

What the hell, it was close to closing time anyway. "You’re still a bitch....Ahhhhh. Hahahah. Eeeeee...." Linda tried to twist her feet and curl her toes, but of course there was no escape. Karen grabbed the toes of one foot and bent them back, tickling with the other hand. Linda’s screeching grew louder.

"Is this the way it’s gonna be?"

"Hahahaha...bitch...Arrrgh."

Karen’s back was to the door, and Linda’s eyes were squeezed shut for the moment, so they didn’t notice their parents and little brother enter with two strangers.

"Girls," their mother said with exasperation. "Girls, stop that for a second, will you?"

Karen stopped and looked sheepishly at her mother. Linda opened her eyes and looked without interest at the strangers, a man with a goatee beginning to turn gray, and a younger blonde woman. Her father seemed embarrassed by his daughters’ antics. Good, thought Linda, never wanting to miss an opportunity to irritate her uptight father.

"Girls, this is Eric and Lydia Marcel. These are my two daughters; Karen is the one standing, and Linda is the one seated.

"As if I have a choice in the matter."

Eric said, "We own Grade Z Productions."

"The movie company?" asked Linda. "Is that the one with the logo showing a bloody dagger through the letter Z?"

"That’s the one."

Karen said, "Our little brother watches those gory things all the time." They really suck, she didn’t add.

Bobby, who clearly didn’t agree, said, "Yeah, they’re cool!"

Lydia spoke up. "We’re thinking about making a different kind of horror movie, one without blood. We’re growing tired of severed limbs and rotting corpses and brains in jars. You’ve probably all seen movies where some woman from the past is killed, and then comes back for revenge on her persecutor's descendants."

About five thousand times, thought Linda.

"We want to do it again, with a small variation." Lydia smiled. "In our plot, a woman is sentenced to be tickled to death, but first swears to come back For the revenge, she kidnaps a young girl, chains her up in a dungeon, and tickles her." She looked around the dungeon, apparently pleased with what she saw. "This setting is ideal--what do you think, Eric?"

"I agree. A few minor changes, and it will be perfect."

"You appear to be ticklish on your feet, Linda. Can you act?"

"You mean in your movie?" Linda was surprised that anybody would consider her for it. And did it matter if she could act or not? Nobody else in their movies seemed to do it very well. "Sure, I can act."

"Where else are you ticklish?"

"Just about everywhere," said Karen. "And I even think she likes it."

"I do not."

"Let’s see," said Lydia, who walked around the stocks and gently groped Linda’s ribs, causing a shriek. "Oh, yes, I think you’ll be perfect for the part."

"There’s no nudity required," said Eric, "but the part does call for an actress willing to wear very skimpy clothing and be tied up. Studies show that people are more likely to rent a video if there is a scantily-clad bound girl on the cover."

"Sure, no problem," said Linda happily, looking at her father for a reaction, seeing his look of dismay at the thought.

Linda’s mother said, "I have an idea for who can play the older woman, the tickler. My sister Vivian could do it perfectly."

Oh, my God, thought Linda, scared now. Nobody, but nobody, tickled like Aunt Vivian! Her mother, on the other hand, was thinking how nice it would be to see Vivian tied up for once.

"There’s one other supporting role we need to fill, the demented assistant, Rogi. The part requires somebody strong enough to pick up two women at once."

"Why, George can do that," said Linda’s mother, looking at her husband who was a fairly large man.

He shrugged, smiled, and said, "Why not?"

"What about me?" asked Bobby.

"We’ll find a role for you, also," said Eric. "And Linda’s mother can play her mother. We’ve had great success working with unknowns."

Cheaper too, thought Linda.

"Are you willing to do a screen test, Linda?" asked Eric Marcel.

"Screen test?"

"Yes, your role is rather demanding, and we want to make sure you're capable of doing the part."

"Whenever you want," said Linda. "What do I have to do?"

But as Eric Marcel described the screen test, Linda began having her doubts. As the details unfolded, she thought that maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Maybe she didn't want to be an actress after all.

"Can I have some time to think about this?" she asked, genuinely worried now.

But Linda’s mother was excited about having her own role in a film. "Nonsense, Linda," she said to her daughter.

"But, Mom--"

"She'll be there," Linda's mother told the Marcels.

"But, Mom, you're not the one who has to--"

"Hey, family, we get to make a movie. This is going to be so much fun." To celebrate, she approached the stocks and briefly tickled Linda’s foot. Everybody laughed at that, including Linda naturally.

Linda, worried now, involuntarily struggled against the ropes still holding her to the post. First the screen test, then Aunt Vivian.

Shit.

Making this movie was going to be torture.