View Full Version : Showtime (F/F)

04-23-2015, 04:22 PM
My latest and probably longest story to date. Enjoy!


The dry mouth was what hit Janet first and foremost. It was like the kind you get after a late, late night of drinking without the benefit of a single glass of water. It was all the fun of the Sahara desert conveniently located on your tongue, which at the moment felt more akin to drywall than the extension of flesh she used to broker deals and berate her interns with. As she attempted to move the brittle feeling organ in her mouth, she slowly opened her eyes. The pitch black darkness that filled her vision would have been a godsend if she was rousing her limp orbs from an alcohol filled stupor. There was a slight problem, however.

She had not been drinking.

While her mouth still refused to cooperate and nothing but blackness filled her vision, her other senses had come alive. She moved her hands around as much as they would allow, confirming that she could still touch things. From the rough and slightly porous texture beneath her fingertips, she wagered that she was in some sort of wooden chair that had arms, for those were what her wrists were bound to by what felt to be some sort of abrasive cord. Her nose kicked in next, inhaling deeply the cool air while fighting off the urge to start hyperventilating in abrupt panic. A mixture of dust and mildew entered her nostrils, and Janet’s mind began to work. Dark, cool, dusty, mildew… A basement? Or perhaps it was some sort of storage unit? It was then that her ears finally picked out a sound distinct from her own pounding heartbeat.

The steady click-clacking of heels.

And then there was light.

Once Janet’s overwhelmed eyes had moved past the shock white curtain of sudden blindness and adjusted well enough to discern finer details, a pit formed in her stomach. She quickly realized that she was indeed bound to a wooden chair, though the seat was large enough to be considered a throne. Her wrists were tied with what looked to be hempen rope, and her legs were stretched out before her, secured in what probably was the oddest sight yet: A pair of medieval stocks. Her body still felt akin to putty, a result of whatever had given her such a bad case of dry mouth, but she was starting to work through it. Weakly she attempted to pull her wrists free of their binds, but they proved to be unyielding in her diminished state. It was as she stirred that, on the outskirts of the light, a figure appeared before Janet. It slowly walked out of the darkness that bordered the single bulb above her and became a woman.

Her piercing green eyes are what Janet noticed first, so deep and dark they seemed almost unreal. It didn’t help that they were made more prominent by the slip of a domino mask that rested atop her nose. Her blonde hair was the second feature that stood out, for it framed her face and cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall of yellow cornflowers. Atop her tresses sat of all things a top hat. It was a rich black, almost blending in with the shadows behind her. It looked like it had jumped straight out of a Victorian period piece, but blended seamlessly with the rest of her outfit. Blacks, whites and reds draped themselves over mysterious woman’s curves. A tailored waist coat lay atop what looked to be a tight black vest and white collared shirt that bore a red bowtie. The vest itself fed seamlessly into a pair of black suit pants that coursed down the blonde woman’s long legs until reaching the tops of her black, three inch heels. She reminded Janet of an old magician; her clothes suited for some sort of performance that day to day wear. The woman stared at Janet for what felt like an eternity, her red lips holding only the faintest ghost of a smile. Then, turning back to the darkness, she said with a loud and booming voice: “Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to another exciting episode of Tickle Time!”

It was then that Janet started screaming.

She screamed with sudden vigor, her mouth finally able to work again despite the dryness. She screamed as loud as she could, sometimes interjecting words like “Somebody” or “Help” or “Me” or “Fuck”. She screamed as loud as her lungs would allow, going from a high pitched shriek to a low pitched yell and back again. This continued for nearly five minutes straight, all while the blonde woman stared on with an almost amused look. When Janet’s voice could no longer support her cries for help and turned into a rasp whisper, the woman began to speak again.

“Boy, I sure can tell you guys are excited. Listen to all that hooting and hollering! Is everyone ready to have a few laughs?”

The blonde woman paused, almost as if waiting for a response. As far as Janet could tell, however, there were none. No applause, no audience, nothing whatsoever in the darkness that enshrouded the two of them.

“Anyway, for all you first time folks tuning in, this is America’s only game show about tickling. Contestants try their best to win fabulous prizes by competing in various games of skill and chance that involve, in one way or another, terrible tickle torments. I’m your host Susan Summers and tonight we have a fresh contestant with us, Mrs. Janet White!”

Again the blonde woman paused as if waiting to some sort of response. Janet strained her eyes to pick out any sort of movement in the shadows that surrounded them. However, as far as she could tell, there was nothing. Not even a red blinking light to indicate they were being filmed. Not a damn thing whatsoever.

“So Janet, why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself eh?” Susan asked, turning toward the bound woman.

“Listen… Whoever you are, I can pay you. Quite handsomely in fact, if you just let me go. No charges filed, no questions asked, only an easy payday for you,” Janet said, her negotiating persona, formed from years of multi-million dollar deals asserting itself.

“Someone feeling shy huh? Well don’t worry because ol’ Susan has you covered. Janet here is the CEO of Watershed Productions. That’s right folks, one of the rising stars in TV lands producers of all things good and ad-friendly. The company responsible for creating enough hit shows in the past 10 years that she nabbed the attentions of the big six themselves. So Janet, are you excited?”

“Look, I don’t know who you are, but it sounds like you need help. Just let me go, and I can get you whatever you need. Please… Just untie me.”

“That’s good to hear Janet, glad to know the success hasn’t gotten to your head. Now, let’s see what you’ll be playing for tonight!”

“Did you fucking hear me!? I said let me go you crazy bitch!”

“That’s right folks, she has a chance to win her very own prison sentence!”

Janet suddenly became very quiet.

“That’s right, this package includes a 7-10 year stay in one of the finest federal penitentiaries of the state’s choice, with potentially the dismantling of her entire company for ruining the lives of over 3000 of its former employees in a shame merger that left everyone without the inside scoop devoid of not only their paychecks or pensions, but weren’t given even so much as a two weeks’ notice!”

Janet remained silent.

“Of course, she’ll only receive that prize if she can’t make it to the end of our little contest. So Janet, are you ready to hear the rules of the game?”

“Fuck you.”

“Ohh… Sounds like we have a confident one folks! Anyway the rules of the game are simple: I, your ever humble host, will be tickling you with all the vigor I can muster. If you make it to the end without calling out for mercy, you win and get to leave! But if you lose, you’ll be getting the fabulous prize I mention before! Sounds simple right?”

“You got nothing on me. So once again, fuck you.”

“Oh boy we do have a lively one here!” Susan said as she moved from Janet’s side to her feet. Janet realized at this point that her own heels had been missing, the only thing on her feet being a pair of sheer beige nylons. She wasn’t worried about the tickling though, not really. She was concerned with this freak and what she was trying to imply. Of course the press had written a few articles and the former workers protested a bit, but it was nothing really to worry about. She covered her ass well enough that nobody could possibly prove a thing. She didn’t get to be where she was by leaving loose ends where they could be found. So this psycho bitch had nothing, and Janet knew that to be a fact. That just left getting out of here and so far it looked like playing along was her only option until she could convince blonde to let her go. The cops would come soon enough, but Janet had more faith in herself than the people she paid off. So she would be the giggling little school girl for awhile because really, how bad could it be?

And then the tickling began.

When Susan’s first nail, painted red to match her tie and lips, made the course from Janet’s left heel to her big toe, she shuddered by the intensity of the sensation. She hadn’t been tickled for a long time, especially on her feet. But it seemed manageable despite the sharp jerk that it prompted from her leg. When two nails ran the course, she found herself able to maintain her composure. She had been in the hot seat before and kept her cool with flying colors, a fact which her former sisters at Alpha Beta Kappa could attest to during their infamous initiation rituals. It was then third nail joined in, nearly a minute later, in running the continuous course back and forth from heel to toe that she was forced to stifle a single giggle.

“Uh oh everyone, looks like we’re on the right track,” Susan said gleefully.

Fuck her. Fuck this woman and her fucking tickling. What did this psycho want?

When every digit on Susan’s hand became involved with the trek along the contours of Janet’s foot, the method which they travelled changed completely. Instead of the painfully slow caresses up and down her nylon clad limb, Susan’s fingers began to scrape the bottom her heel in a methodical motion much akin to a spider’s crawl. Though nothing more than a mere annoyance at first for Janet, it steadily grew worse as it started to move upward.

At the top of her heel she twitched in ticklish discomfort. At midway up her arch she found herself digging her nails into the arms of her wooden throne, trying to drown out the sensations that were marching up what she realized to be her extremely sensitive foot. At the pad she had taken to biting her lip, harder and harder until it threatened to draw blood. When the fingers reached her toes, she had no other choice but release some of the mounting pressure that was building in her chest.


The giggle, if it could be called that, sounded almost painful in its release. Janet was fighting the sensations with everything she had, straining against them even as they forced her to concede even the smallest amount of chuckles.

Susan stopped her left hand, drawing it away from the tantalizing target before her. Soon, however, her right hand rose to greet its own stunning size seven object of affection that protruded from the set of stocks before it. In the same manner, Janet’s right foot endured the same series of ticklish teasing as the left had, and once again the CEO fought against the maddening sensations with all the steel and fire she possessed. After what felt like a small decade, the blonde captor finally ceased her tickling.

Janet breathed a small sigh of relief.

“Well ladies and gentlemen, looks like our contestant can handle the small stuff. How about we crank things up to the next level?”

Still nothing but that damned silence.

And then Janet was laughing.

It blindsided her, like getting hit by a truck or being told that some people believe coffee is bad for you. It took her conscious mind nearly five full seconds before becoming aware of the torment that her feet were enduring. Gone were the simple slides and caresses of Susan’s finger nails, for in their place was the handiwork of a skilled tormentor. The real fun had just begun.


“Looks like our contestant is more sensitive than she thought. You alright Janet?”


“You know, you can quit any time you want to. All you have to do is ask for mercy.”

Laughter had become Janet’s only form of response at the moment. If she could properly form words, however, she would have explained that even if this tickling psycho had any real dirt on her, she would be in jail or would have been blackmailed by now. Her threat was empty, Janet just knew it was. But even so, she would not give her the satisfaction of beating her. She didn’t get to be where she was in life by being breakable.

Susan’s nails, of course, were putting that resolve to the test.


“Sounds like someone is starting to really feel it. Can she make it though? Can she stand this terrible all the way to the end folks?”


The nails… How they tickled. It’s like they knew exactly where to strike to elicit the most powerful reactions from their victim. They way they danced underneath Janet’s toes, the way they scratched her heels, and even the way they stroked the tops of her feet all felt as if they were intentionally done to drive her deeper and deeper into the well of laughter that emanated from her stomach.


The agony and torment of Janet’s lasted for what felt like an eternity. It could well have been, for her over stimulated sense of touch had begun to drown out her other senses. Her vision had begun to blur with tears, her ears deafened by the sound of her own laughter, and time itself was changing, moving at slow and quickened paces at random intervals. What would be next, her ability to smell? Would she start to actually taste her own laughter? These thoughts offered no comfort as her torture continued.


Janet felt delirious. She swore the sensations of tormented her feet were beginning to crawl up her legs. It was as if the electricity that naturally coursed through her body was becoming corrupted by her ticklish ordeal. That soon her entire body would turn against her, arcing currents of ticklish biological energy through her, trapping her in an endless cycle of laughter.


And then it ended.

Janet was in limbo at first, stuck in an adjustment period between the states of being tickled and not being tickled. A few stray giggles forced their way out of her aching gut, but in return allowed massive gulps of air to enter her lungs. Slowly the tingling began to recede from her legs and her feet as well as her stomach and her head. She felt faint for the first time in her life, but for the moment she was proud of herself. She hadn’t broken. She was still unbreakable.

“Well folks, she did it! She made it to the very end! Let’s get a round of applause for Janet! Congratulations!”

For a moment, Janet thought she might have actually heard of the sound of people clapping. She was uncertain if it was that or her pounding heart, however.

“Well folks, that is all for tonight! Thanks for joining us for another episode of Tickle Time! Goodnight America and keep laughing!”

And once again there was silence.

“So… Are you going to let me out of here?” Janet finally asked after a few large gasps for breath.

“Why should I? The cops are already on their way here. They’ll let you out and make sure that you are taken care of,” Susan replied before walking out of the circle of light and into the surrounding darkness. A few moments later a dozen or so more lights flicked on, revealing the rest of the room. Janet’s guesses had been right, she was in a basement. In fact it was a basement she knew very well, because she owned it. It was one of the main areas used for the props of Watershed’s various productions. Old neon signs and bright stage dressings littered the room and for the most part seemed to have been untouched for several months at least. It took the CEO a few moments, but soon she realized that she recognized most of these items… They were the set designs for the last show Watershed produced before the merger.

“Cops? So you plan on turning yourself in huh? That’s good. I can talk to the judge and see about getting you the help you need.”

“Oh no, you’ll be talking to a judge alright, but not for little ol’ me. It will be for your dirty little business deals you’ve been running in your company. I’m afraid it’s time to pay up.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“Account 000123996882, Stormcloud Enterprises.”

Janet turned pale despite the heat in her cheeks from the tickling.

“As it turns out a fair amount of your colleagues are not as smart as you. Though had all the strands I needed to weave together to find the thread that lead to you. Though Stormcloud Enterprises as a shell corporation for Watershed does seem a bit on the nose if you ask me.”

Janet was quiet for a second before putting on her negotiator persona.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing. I already have all the evidence I need to convict you and your company of wrongdoing… And I have your money to give those you ousted a chance to at least make a fresh start. Minus my own procurement fee, of course. So really, my business with you is done.”

“C’mon, you must want something. Anything. You name it and it’s yours.”

“Sorry Janet.”

“Wait! Why tickle me then huh? Why go through all this trouble huh? You don’t do that for nothing. So what do you fucking want?” The trapped woman shouted with all her might.

Susan turned to face Janet, a smirk firmly on her lips.

“I tickled the bejesus out of you because it’s one of my little kinks. I mean, you’re a bad girl in every sense of the word dear. How could I resist teasing a naughty little minx like you, especially when you keep such delicious toys on site?” Susan said, placing her hand on the stocks and leaning over her. “Besides, once it comes out how you screwed over so many people, no one is going to pay attention to your complaints of being kidnapped and tickled. So for me it’s just a win-win every way you look at it. A victimless crime if you will.”

“You fucking freak! Getting your fucking jollies off and stealing from me? What, you think you’re better than me you little bitch? Fuck you! You’re not Miss Good Samaritan you sicko! You’re a fucking criminal like me!”

Susan smiled wide for a second before speaking.

“Oh I’m a criminal alright. But the difference between you and me is that I’m walking out of here, and you’re not.”

Susan then moved away from the stocks and towards the door while Janet raged against her every step of the way. She flipped off the lights, leaving the room in absolute darkness once again. She closed the door behind her, money in her account and a quiver in her loins. She almost thought she heard the sound of something breaking from the other room, but quickly dismissed it with a laugh.

That’s show business for you.

04-24-2015, 03:46 AM
great story, really well written

04-24-2015, 03:19 PM
Thanks, I'm glad you enjoyed it ^_^