Screen Test

The only consolation for Linda was that her father hated it when she wore her black bikini with the strapless top. Other than that, she didn't relish the thought of showing so much skin in front of strangers with cameras. It was the same bikini she had worn during her first introduction to the rack, and the first time she had truly been tickle tortured by Aunt Vivian. The various torture devices in the dungeon didn't put her any more at ease either, and it was with some apprehension that she looked at them.

"That look is perfect," exclaimed Lydia Marcel. "The scantily-clad young girl in the dungeon, pondering her fate as she imagines herself undergoing unspeakable torture."

Yeah, tickle torture, Linda thought ruefully. Just like yesterday. "Are the cameras on?"

"Yes, Linda. We're doing a documentary on the film, which will be shown at the end of the feature. Lights please."

Somebody flipped a switch, which caused stage lighting to brightly illuminate the space between two stone columns about six feet apart. On the inside of each column was a chain with an open manacle on the end. Lydia took Linda's hand and said, "Come on over here," and led her over to the two columns, the cameras following them. She lifted Linda's hand up to an open manacle and closed it around Linda's wrist, locking it with a key. Linda didn't resist as Lydia took her other hand and pulled it over to the opposite column, and fastened the other manacle. Linda was now stretched out with her arms nearly straight, her wrists slightly higher than her shoulders. The lights made the area warm enough for her to almost be glad she was in a bikini. Almost.

"There, how's that?" Lydia asked, giving Linda's exposed side a light pinch.

Linda giggled briefly and moved her hips sideways.

Behind the lights, Linda could see her mother and Aunt Vivian in the back watching her. Both women stood up and approached Lydia. Aunt Vivian said, "Please let me have a word with my niece before we begin."

"Of course, Vivian."

Aunt Vivian looked at Linda and seemed very pleased. Then she stepped behind Linda and placed her nails on Linda's sides, which caused her to wince. She leaned close to Linda's ear and said, "If you blow this audition, your mother has agreed to take away all your clothes, lock you up in this dungeon for an entire week, and let me tickle you anytime I want.

"Mother," Linda gasped. Is that true?"

Her mother nodded.

With her nails still in place, Aunt Vivian continued. "I want to make this movie. Very, very badly. Do you understand?

Linda gulped. "Y--yes, Aunt Vivian."

"Good." She skittered her nails up Linda's bare sides, which caused her to shriek and arch her back as far as the chains would allow. Then her mother danced her fingers across Linda's bare stomach, which caused her to pull back.

Lydia said, "We almost forgot your ankles, Linda."

"My ankles?"

"Yes," she said, stooping down

Linda looked down and saw her reach for a chain at the base of one of the posts, while taking Linda's ankle with her other hand. A second later, a manacle was locked around Linda's ankle. She looked at the other side and saw, not surprisingly, that there was another one. Might as well make it easy, Linda thought, as she moved her free leg toward it. Soon it was chained too. Now Linda was chained hand and foot between the two pillars. She looked at one manacled wrist, then at the other. She blushed as she looked down and saw that she was nearly naked and completely helpless, with the cameras rolling.

Lydia stepped forward and looked up and down at Linda's body. "Somebody bring me a feather," she said.

"A feather?" Linda asked nervously.

"Of course." A stage hand brought a long red feather, which Lydia held up in front of Linda's face, while twirling it between her thumb and forefinger. "Isn't it pretty?"

"Not particularly," Linda said, her mouth dry.

Lydia slid the feather across the tops Linda's breasts, just above the edge of her bikini top. With a giggle, she pulled back as far as the chains would allow, which wasn't all that much.

"Did that tickle?"

"Yes," said Linda in a shaky voice.

"How about this?" she asked, running it up Linda's left side.

"Y-yes."

"And this?" Lydia circled Linda's belly button with the feather's tip.

"Heeheeeyes," said Linda, trying to pull in her stomach muscles to escape the feather.

"Wonderful," said Lydia, this time using the feather to trace along Linda's upper abdomen, just under her bikini top. She placed its tip in the crook of Linda's elbow and ran along her outstretched upper arm, across her bare shoulder, and up her neck to the hollow under her ear. Although the stage lights were hot, she shivered and leaned her head away from it.

Lydia walked around a column and approached Linda from the rear. With the feather's tip, she lightly stroked up Linda's spine, which caused her to squirm a little. "How badly do you want this part, Linda?"

"Real bad," she said truthfully.

"The last actress quit on us when she got tickled. She said we were actually torturing her during the filming."

"You don't say," said Linda.

"So we decided to audition the next actress by tickle torturing her, to see if she can take it. Ready?"

Linda was silent. And as someone who has experienced some serious tickling, she was also scared. Why were the lights so hot anyway?

"If you want me to stop, just say, 'I don't want the part.'"

What a dilemma, Linda thought. It seemed lately that whenever somebody tickled her, it was to get her to agree to more tickling. Then she yelped as Lydia dug her fingers into Linda's ribs and began furiously tickling her. She lurched forward, her breasts thrust forward, and began laughing hysterically. Lydia kept up the rib tickling at a rapid pace, without letting up, while Linda screamed and twisted to try to escape the fingers. Before long she was yanking at the chains in an attempt to bring her arms down to her bare, unprotected sides, while laughing uncontrollably. The effort to escape Lydia's fingers in her sides, coupled with the hot lights, caused a thin sheen of sweat to appear on her forehead and upper chest. Gradually, Lydia worked her fingers upward above Linda's bikini top. By this time her screaming was deafening, and then her knees buckled, leaving her hanging by her wrists.

That was a mistake.

Lydia dug her fingers into Linda's bare underarms and quickly rippled her fingers up and down. Linda could barely even scream now, such was her torture, but she was still weakly jerking and twitching as she hung by her wrists. She managed to get one leg straight in an attempt to stand back up, but Lydia casually lifted one foot and pressed behind Linda's knee and then she was hanging again, the fingers still tickling under her arms.

Sweat literally was now dripping off of Linda, the ticking was so intense and the lights so hot. When Lydia mercifully stopped, the cameras caught for posterity a pretty young girl with a contorted face hanging limply by her wrists, her knees buckled, her hair damp and matted.

Placing heat lamps among the stage lights was a stroke of genius, Lydia thought. "Do you still want the part?"

"Yes," Linda managed to whisper, expecting even more torture. But Lydia placed her arm around Linda's waist and helped her stand back up. She unlocked one of Linda's wrists, and grabbed her when she nearly fell. Making sure Linda could stand on her own, she unlocked the other manacles.

"Congratulations, you've got the part."

Aunt Vivian came up to Linda put her arm around her, resting one hand on a damp shoulder. "Just wait until you experience what I get to do to you in the movie, Linda. That was nothing."

Luckily, Aunt Vivian and Lydia both caught Linda before she fell again.