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Repost: Film Threat (f/f)

Shem the Penman

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Apr 3, 2001
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[If you're curious as to why these moldy oldies are showing up again, see the note at the top of the repost for "The Stars Are Right."]

FILM THREAT
another one of those stories

Jeanna Fine was furious. How could the little witch have done something so low? The little witch in question was actually not so little, being a tall, slender redhead named Patricia Kennedy. She was Jeanna's costar in a bondage film they were currently shooting in some guy's basement. Jeanna had liked Patricia all right, and they'd worked well together ... until a couple of days ago. Then, after they'd finished shooting for the day and Patricia had gone home, the director had had a "talk" with her. Patricia was unhappy, the director said, because she felt that Jeanna was letting her do all the work. She'd demanded a bigger share of the pay unless Jeanna shaped up, so to speak. All nonsense, the director reassured her. She was doing a good job. He'd talk with Patricia, try to make her see reason ... But the insult still left Jeanna seeing a red as deep as that of Patricia's hair.

Jeanna could have just quit the movie, but she needed the money. But she couldn't let Patricia's treachery pass, either. Fortunately, she had a revenge in mind. The director had also warned her before they started filming that Patricia was extremely ticklish, so she should be careful where she put her hands when they were acting together. One involuntary giggle could ruin a take.

Oh, I'll be careful all right, Jeanna thought, looking down at her costar now. She'd caught Patricia just as she was about to leave for the day and hustled her back to the basement where they were shooting the movie. Patricia wore a short sleeveless dress of dark green and white sandals. Her arms were spread out along the top of the bed railing and fastened in place with loops of rope at elbow and wrist. Her long legs stretched out over the bedspread, pulled taut by another loop of rope around her ankles fastened to the foot rail. She faced the big mirror that took up most of one wall in the basement, and Jeanna wondered what she must think to see herself in such a predicament.

Approaching the bed slowly, Jeanna sat down next to Patricia's hip.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" the redhead demanded angrily, testing the ropes that held her. "This isn't funny."

"Maybe not, but you're going to laugh," Jeanna said. Straddling Patricia, she touched her fingertips to the inside of either wrist and began to glide them inward. "Unless I get an apology quick."

Patricia's eyes went very wide. "Wha -- I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Try again." Jeanna smiled at the undercurrent of fear in Patricia's voice.

"I don't -- don't you *dare* tickle me," Patricia rasped, desperation stressing her voice as Jeanna's fingers slipped down the length of her slender arms, moving inexorably toward her waiting armpits.

"And why not?" Jeanna's eyebrows rose in mock consternation. "Are you ... ticklish?" Her fingers began to trace exquisitely delicate circuits around the very rim of Patricia's underarms. The redhead's shoulders jittered and her face slowly turned pink as she struggled for composure.

"V-very ticklish," she gasped. "And if you -- heeheeheeheehee -- I swear I will *get* you for this -- " Her head rolled back and she began to titter uncontrollably as Jeanna started tickling the center of each smooth hollow, fingers dancing over the sensitive flesh. "I diiiiiiidn't -- "

"I'm getting you first -- and I bet I'm getting you worse." As she watched her costar go to pieces in front of her, collapsing into wild squirmy laughter, Jeanna couldn't help but give a low laugh of her own. This was more fun than she'd thought it would be. And she'd barely started. All she had to guide her were memories of tickling her younger sister when they were both children, but either her skills were still fresh or, more likely, Patricia was so ticklish it didn't matter if she was a little clumsy. Jeanna skittered her hands down Patricia's sides, kneading her ribs through the tight fabric of her dress, and watched in satisfaction as she wriggled and laughed madly, trying to throw herself forward but held back by the ropes on her arms.

Fascinated by Patricia's writhing, Jeanna tickled up and down between ribs and underarms, quick and relentless. Patricia's laughter got louder and higher-pitched as the tickling went on, the movements of her body more frenzied. Jeanna soon found a spot midway between the underarms and the ribs that seemed more ticklish than either and concentrated her attention on it, digging into it with her thumbs. Patricia's shrieks redoubled. "Kitchy kitchy coo," Jeanna murmured, teasing Patricia into a fresh giggling fit with flickering fingers in her armpits, before jumping back down to the ribs to burrow into them with her forefingers. "Kitchy kitchy ... " The phrase, dredged up from her childhood ticklefights, also brought a memory with it, of the one thing that always led to victory. Letting her hands fall to Patricia's lap, she turned and looked down the length of the other woman's body to her bound feet. And smiled.

Patricia's light sandals offered no barrier at all to Jeanna's probing fingers. Peals of demented laughter poured out of the redhead as she felt her toes tickled, her high arches delicately scratched, her heels beset by scribbling fingernails. Each twitch of her feet only offered up a new ticklish spot for Jeanna to exploit, and the brunette let no opportunity pass her by. When Jeanna got bored with this game, she started undoing one of the buckles. "NOOOOO!" Patricia all but screamed. "Don't dooooo that! Please! Don't!"

"What's the matter? I've already tickled your feet pretty good." Jeanna looked over her shoulder as the sandal came off, deeply enjoying Patricia's flushed, miserable expression. "How much worse could this be?" She began to gently trail all four fingertips up and down the newly bare foot. Patricia's lips trembled, her eyes watered -- and she burst into sudden howls of racking mirth as Jeanna mercilessly attacked her foot with both hands. She shook her head wildly back and forth, her hair lashing her laughter-twisted face, and strained hard against her bonds, but nothing could save her from Jeanna's scrambling fingers. Jeanna was so delighted that she lost no time in stripping the other foot bare.

"Please," Patricia pleaded breathlessly, head lolling back against the railing, giggles rippling down her soft body as Jeanna slowly and lightly traced her fingertips all over her desperately flexing feet. "I can't stand any -- hheeeheeheehhhhh -- more! You've got to stop! You don't know what it's liiiiiii -- " She broke off in a pure rising caterwaul as Jeanna dug in unmercifully. The arches were the most sensitive parts of her feet, and each one was filled with a handful of fingernails, swirling and scratching. Her body was nearly rigid with the wave of ticklish sensation sweeping upward from her soles.
Grinning devilishly, Jeanna alternately slowed and quickened the pace of the tickling, and Patricia's laughter rose and fell in nearly perfect time, like a siren.

"You sorry now?" Jeanna taunted.

"YESYEHEEEEEEHEEEHEEHEEESSS!" Patricia moaned, her entire body vibrating with ticklish torment. "IIIIIIIIII'M SOOOOOOORRRY! STOOOOOOOOPPPPPP!"

Jeanna found herself reluctant to stop the tickling. She was just having too much fun.
"And you're not going to give me any more trouble?" she temporized, turning back to lightly tickle Patricia's ribs and being rewarded with a screech of absolute despair.
The redhead really was wired, ready to respond to the slightest tickle with a total frenzy. Jeanna amused herself for a bit with quick little tickles here and there, watching Patricia scream and spasm in response to each one, but finally she had to admit that Patricia had had enough. "Okay. I hope you've learned your lesson here," she said as she unlaced Patricia's bonds.

Patricia pushed her sweat-soaked hair away from her face and glared at Jeanna, but said nothing. I didn't do anything to you, she thought angrily. But boy, am I going to ...

A few days later. Jeanna was annoyed at having to work on a Saturday morning, but the director had called her and begged her to shoot another scene to round out the movie. She wouldn't have done it normally, but he'd promised her a generous recompensation. So now she was lying on a bed, the same bed where she'd tickled Patricia, nude and hog-tied with black leather restraints. The director had just stepped out for a moment. Jeanna shifted uncomfortably on the bed and stared at herself in the mirror, waiting for him to return. How could that unprofessional idiot just walk off and leave her alone, tied up? It wasn't safe. She'd have hard words with him after this...

Something was scratching her upturned toes. Jeanna moved her feet, but whatever it was persisted, digging deeper into the soft undersides of the toes. She let out a squeaking giggle. It felt almost like -- fingers ... Twisting around as best she could, she looked over her shoulder and gasped. Smiling down at her, the fingers of one hand working between Jeanna's now frantically spasming toes, was Patricia. The redhead lightly skimmed a fingertip along one of Jeanna's soles, from toes to heel. Though Jeanna clamped her mouth shut just in time, she couldn't hold back the involuntary twitch of her feet that betrayed their ticklishness.

"Hi, sweetie," Patricia said. "You've been set up. Guess what happens now?"

Her finger was moving up and down both of Jeanna's feet now, zigging and zagging back and forth. The light tickling was nearly unbearable, but Jeanna managed to muster enough self-control to glare witheringly at the other woman and say in her hardest voice, "Grow up. I'm not ticklish, and you're just making a fool of yourself." Her voice nearly cracked on the last word as Patricia's fingernail traced between the balls of her feet, and Patricia's smile only widened, sending a chill through Jeanna.

"You're an awful liar, Jeanna baby. I can see you smiling already ... " Grinning with wicked pleasure, she touched the point of a sharp thumbnail to the center of Jeanna's arch and began flicking it back and forth, the fingers of that hand crawling over Jeanna's other sole. Her free hand held Jeanna's legs steady and helpless by the band around her ankles. Jeanna buried her face in the bedspread and tried to keep her feet still, but under Patricia's gleefully teasing touch, they just had to move. And the giggles were not long in coming as Patricia tickled all around and over her feet, more and more fingers running over the sensitive skin more and more swiftly. First Jeanna's shoulders, then her entire body, were jiggling with her muffled laughter. Then Patricia hit a particularly ticklish spot at the base of Jeanna's toes, and Jeanna's head popped up, eyes wide and mouth stretched open by the wild laughter that bubbled up from within her. She'd never had any idea that she was *this* ticklish ...

Patricia held something in front of Jeanna's face -- a short, stiff, dark red feather, almost the same color as her hair. "I learned how to use one of these long ago. Let's se if I still have it ... " She tickled Jeanna's bare bottom with the tip of the feather, making the dark-haired actress squirm uncomfortably. Then she traced the feather up one of Jeanna's legs and onto the waiting foot. Jeanna flinched instinctively, but the feather tip didn't really tickle her sole much -- certainly it was easier to bear than Patricia's fingers. Her relief lasted exactly as long as it took the redhead to take hold of one big toe and slip the feather into the soft, vulnerable space between it and the next toe. Then Jeanna squealed and thrashed, but nothing she could do to keep Patricia from taking the feather on a slow, excrucriating tour of all ten toes.

Taking hold of Jeanna by the shoulder and hip, Patricia rolled her onto her side. Jeanna cringed, knowing well how horribly exposed she was like this, and Patricia chuckled softly, enjoying the agony of anticipation she knew Jeanna must be going through. Both of Patricia's hands twitched gaily over the upturned side, bringing a shivery giggle from Jeanna, and then latched firmly onto her ribs and hip, fingers burrowing. Jeanna had thought that the foot-tickling was bad, but this was pure unadulterated misery. She howled, the straps creaking as she tried to straighten out. Jeanna twisted, trying to roll back onto her stomach, but Patricia's grip was too strong for a laughter-weakened woman to break. The hand on her hip slipped down her body, fingers spreading to cover her stomach. With Patricia tickling both her ribs and her belly, Jeanna's attempts to roll over dissolved into uncoordinated hysterics. She screamed with laughter, her entire body thrashing as much as it could in her bonds.

Just when she thought it couldn't get worse, the awful feather made a reappearance. Leaning half-over Jeanna's body, Patricia traced around and around the rim of her navel with the feather tip, pausing occasionally to tickle Jeanna's ribs and the rest of her tummy with the wriggling fingers of her free hand. It seemed impossible that the tiny little feather, moving so slowly, could tickle so much, but Jeanna laughed herself hoarse. Patricia also slipped the tip of the feather into Jeanna's tightly closed underarms, and in that confined space the little probing tip seemed to tickle all out of proportion to its size. Patricia even feathered her ears, holding her head steady while the feather traced each ear's loops and folds, driving Jeanna to distraction. Jeanna was getting dizzy from constant laughter, but Patricia didn't seem disposed to allow any mercy just yet.

Patricia rolled Jeanna onto her back, setting the feather aside. "Tickle, tickle, tickle," the redhead purred, eyes alight with mischief as her fingers worked lightly on Jeanna's ribs, tweaking the soft skin. "She who lives by the tickle will suffer by the tickle. Maybe you should've thought twice about what you did to me, huh?"

"NO MOOOOOOORE!" Jeanna yelped. "I'MSORRYI'MSORRYIDIDN'T MEAAAAAAAAAANNN IT!"

"Oooh, noooooo," Patricia smiled. "I don't want an apology, honey. I want you to laugh and laugh and laugh until I'm done with you ... " And laugh Jeanna did, copiously and endlessly, as Patricia snuck a delicately working fingertip into her bellybutton. A new assault on her ribs seemed to fold Jeanna up like an accordion, and when Patricia lifted Jeanna's legs and started scraaaaping her nails along the undersides of her feet, Jeanna was sure she'd actually blacked out for a moment.

"Okay," Patricia said finally, and began undoing Jeanna's bonds. "Now we're even. You're not going to try anything more, I bet."

On the other side of the two-way mirror, the director smiled and shut off his camera, popping the tape out and weighing it in his hand. The video label was already filled in: "Patricia and Jeanna -- Real Tickling." He knew quite a few people who would pay handsomely for a copy of this ...
 
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