PeterVincentTGVK
1st Level Red Feather
- Joined
- Jun 25, 2007
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This is one of my stories from the new collection, Jenni's Ticklish Tales. It's the only one that I plan to post but you can find it and more at lulu.com! http://www.lulu.com/shop/shellie-feathers/jennis-ticklish-tales/ebook/product-24507539.html
“Sweet merciful crap! Why is this taking so long!?” Gwen would have thought that Tamara was in a mood, but she had been working with the petulant young actress for just over a month now and knew that it was just her mood in general. Gwen was currently in her 23rd year of doing movie make-up. She liked to dabble in prosthetics and other such effects, but primarily worked in simpler gags. She had signed on to be a part of the crew for The Bloodening 4, knowing it would be a nice paycheck. But the film’s lead actress, Tamara Lin, was an absolute nightmare.
Tamara was of mixed ancestry. There was some Chinese, Taiwanese, and even English in her family tree, but she had been born and raised in America. The end result was that she had the beauty of the orient… and the attitude of a spoiled rich girl. She had long, black hair halfway down her back, and her Chinese lineage showed in her skin. Her body was firm, though she was mostly lacking in figure. And even though Gwen thought that she was very pretty, pretty doesn’t mean much when you spend most of your time acting like a raving bitch.
As for Gwen, she was in her early 50’s. Men didn’t look at her the same way that they would look at Tamara. At least, not anymore. Though she wasn’t huge by any means, she was a few pounds overweight for her height, and her graying hair, which was almost always up in a bun to prevent getting certain paints and chemicals from staining, was beginning to thin. She had three children, the oldest of which was expecting her first. Knowing that she was about to be a grandma didn’t help Gwen with her self esteem issues. As she gazed at Tamara’s body, currently covered only by a sheer pair of panties, she felt jealousy as well as annoyance.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Lin, but it has to look as close as I can get it to how it looked yesterday. As I have explained, it is for continuity issues.” Gwen was having to paint fake blood on the young diva’s body for a scene. The finale of the film required the topless Tamara to be almost completely covered in blood. But getting the patterns just right was a nightmare that only true make-up artists can understand. It didn’t help that Tamara kept squirming and complaining the whole time. It was almost impossible for Gwen to do her job.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. It’s fake blood, just put some in a bucket and let me have it so we can get on with this stupid fucking movie.”
“Here in a minute, I AM gonna let you have it!” Gwen snapped. “All I’ve been hearing for the last couple of days are your insipid complaints! Like you’re so special! How many of your co-stars have you screwed so far, huh? Cause they seem to be the only ones who can stand you on this set!!!”
Tamara was stunned. Aghast.
“How dare you talk to me like that!”
Suddenly, Gwen realized what she had done. One snap of Tamara’s fingers and she would be out of a paycheck.
“I am sorry.” Gwen quickly apologized. Maybe there was something that she could say. Maybe there was something that she could give to Tamara to make her forget about the outburst. Or… or… maybe there was something she could do. A devilish plot began to form in her mind.
“You better be!” Tamara scolded. “Why, in all my years of-”
“You are absolutely right. I shouldn’t be blaming you for my shortcomings.” Gwen said. “But you know… One doesn’t make it very far in my line of work without learning some things.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?” Tamara asked snobbishly.
“Well, I could teach you some terrific make-up tricks. Tricks that would be difficult to implement on myself at my age, but that could keep you looking just the way you are now, well into your thirties.” Gwen offered.
“I suppose...” Tamara was considering the proposal. “I suppose that it’s the least you could do.”
“10:30 tonight at my home. I will text you the address. I will even throw in some mascaras and blushes for free. The expensive kinds.”
“I guess that would be alright.” Tamara agreed. “Now finish this up before I lose my patience.”
Gwen smiled. The trap was set.
“Yes, of course, Ms. Lin.”
Gwen wasn’t surprised that it was 11:30, an hour later than planned, that Tamara knocked on her door. But she knew that she had to try and be civil with the brat until the right moment.
Gwen knocked on the door like a cop banging in a drug dealer’s. The knocks were so obnoxious that Gwen wondered how the diva didn’t show up with red knuckles every day. Still, she put on a brave face and walked over to the door, opening it wide. Tamara didn’t wait to be invited in. She just swept through the doorway as if she hadn’t even physically stopped moving since leaving her car. The actress was wearing a black, high slit party dress. She must have intended to hit a club after this.
“Okay, so you have my attention. You…” Tamara stopped to look around. The front door led right into Gwen’s living room. There were pictures all over of her with famous celebrities from the past two decades. Despite her arrogance, Tamara was still relatively new to Hollywood and didn’t have any history with many of the stars yet. “Wow! Is that you with Schwarzenegger?”
“Sure is.” Gwen picked up the framed photo from next to the couch so that Tamara could get a better look. “I helped with some of the squib work on The Last Stand. He’s a great guy.”
“That’s cool.” Tamara suddenly looked as though she had caught a shiver, and as if shaking off politeness as a corporal entity, went right back to her surly attitude. “So, where are we going to do this?”
“My supplies are in the lab. Follow me.” Gwen led Tamara into the next room. It was huge.
“What is your house like a Tardis or something?” Tamara asked. “It doesn’t look nearly as big from the outside.” Gwen decided to just take the compliment and move on. The room contained about seven different vanities. She clearly would have her team come over to experiment from time to time. But the rest of the room was full of various props left over from different projects that she had worked on. Weapons, costumes… there was even a kind of metal rack in the corner of the room.
“What the Hell is that?” Tamara moved towards the device. It was a metal frame. Two posts that converged like an open doorway with several strands of what looked like bungee cables running all through and around it.
“That’s a rack from a movie I worked on when I was starting my career. In the film, one of the characters is a dominatrix who binds one of her male slaves by making him stand in between all of the cables.” Gwen explained. “Unfortunately, he is still stuck in their when the masked killer breaks into the house. Originally, the actor had to stand in there for almost two straight hours at a time. We would have to let him out between takes so that he wouldn’t cramp up.
“Well, how did it work?” Tamara wasn’t hiding her interest very well.
“Here, let me show you.” The older woman beckoned for Tamara to join her at the rack. “You’ll have to lose the dress. It would be too easy for it to get caught and ripped if you kept it on.”
“C’mon, I hardly have anything under it.” Tamara complained.
“It’s not like I don’t see your body every day, Ms. Lin.” Gwen pointed out. “Don’t be so shy. I can show you how it works and then do your make-up.”
“Oh, very well.” Tamara shrugged and pulled down her dress, stepping out of it to reveal that she was still wearing the same panties from earlier that day. She walked up a step to the rack.
“So, you want to walk around to the other side so that you can step into it.” Tamara did as she was told and moved behind the rack. “Lift your arms.” Tamara did so and Gwen pulled her arms into the weave of cables. After helping her step into it, Gwen took a few seconds to reposition some of the cables, and pulled them a little tighter. Tamara looked as though she was entangled in a spiders web. The cables weren’t uncomfortable, but Tamara couldn’t move more than an inch or two in any direction.
“Okay, so this is a little freaky.” She laughed. “I’m ready to come out already.”
“Oh, are you?” Gwen asked with a tiny snippet of malice. “Cause I might not be ready to let you out yet.”
“Excuse me? You better fucking let me out.” Tamara had no sense of humor about the situation.
“No, there is no excuse for you. And what are you gonna do? Text for help? Hahaha.” Gwen was enjoying every second of this. “I’m sorry but I think that this is necessary. I was going to knock you out and tie you to a chair for this, but I think this works very nicely.”
“What are you fucking talking about?”
“I’m talking about your complete lack of respect in the workplace.” Gwen stated. “I’ve dealt with J Lo. I’ve dealt with Lohan. I even worked on one of Anna Nicole Smith’s last projects before she went off the rails. But you… you’re the worst one yet. You think that you are just entitled to be a little priss to everyone you meet. Well, I hate to break it to you but in the real world, you need to be good at more than bitchiness and blowjobs to get anywhere.
“This is your last warning, you whacked out psycho!”
“Before what? The next one? Face it: You have nothing. Nothing to bait me with. Nothing to negotiate with. And you’re not leaving here until I say you can.” Gwen looked down at a small patch of red just above Tamara’s left hip. “What’s that? Miss a spot after filming today. Don’t worry, I’ll get it.” Gwen turned to one of her vanities and grabbed a plastic tote bag of assorted cotton pads, doing something else that Tamara couldn’t quite see. Then Gwen grabbed another bag that carried about a dozen different make-up brushes before pulling up a stool to the rack and sitting comfortably in front of her captive.
“So what do you want?” Tamara decided to try reasoning with the older woman.
“We’ll get to that. Hold still.” After applying some solution to one of the cotton pads, she reached behind Tamara with her left hand to get ahold of her and keep her in place. Then she gently swabbed the red patch. As she anticipated, Tamara started squirming awkwardly. “You know what is one of the hardest things about my job?” Gwen asked. “Almost is hard as when you are dealing with a rude or impatient performer? It’s when you have to paint up someone who is ticklish.”
“W-what?”
“Oh, yes, because the secret to what I do is getting my clients to hold still. But the tools of my trade… the brushes and Q tips and such… they can tickle an awful lot.” The fake blood was gone now. Gwen leaned forward a little and blew some cool air on the patch of skin, drying it and making goosebumps appear. We’ve been working together for a while now. Definitely long enough for me to know that you are insanely ticklish. So, I decided that tonight, as I said, I would show you some tricks. The thing is though, they are much more designed to make you red in the face than to make it look younger.”
“Oh, so what? Cause you think I’m ticklish, you are gonna try and scare me? You’re fucking ridiculous. Let me go now and I won’t press charges against your stupid ass.” Tamara was trying her best to sound mean and in charge, but both women knew what the score really was.
“Such a big mouth on you. I think I know what will shut you up, though.” Gwen took a new pad. She didn’t put any solution on it, though. She left it dry when she started to sweep it just below Tamara’s surprisingly deep bellybutton. The actress bit the inside of her lower lip and gave her best effort to not move. Proving Gwen wrong was essential to gaining back any power in the situation.
“Nothing to say anymore?” Gwen asked as she circled the bellybutton. “No more dirty words or insults?”
“This is your l-last ch-chance.” Tamara sputtered. “Let me g-go.”
“No, it’s your last chance.” Gwen corrected her. “Laugh.” Gwen gently inserted a Q tip into the navel and slowly twirled it.
“Hehehehehe… noooo…” Tamara whined.
“Like I said, they can tickle a lot.” Gwen twirled the tool for another ten seconds or so before pulling it out. “Now, you have a choice: You can promise to change your attitude and be nicer to everyone on the set. Or we can keep you in there for a while and let you think about it.”
“What’s your edge, though? How exactly can you enforce anything. Once you let me go, I can go back on any promise that I make while I’m in this goddamn thing.”
“You let me worry about that.” Gwen suggested, pulling two primer brushes out of her bag and standing up to face her prey. Tamara felt her lips start to curl as the brushes softly trailed up and down her rib cage on either side of her small, but supple breasts. “What are you smiling at?” Gwen taunted.
“I’m gonna kihihill you…”
“Well, you’re gonna laugh first.” Gwen challenged. She loved that Tamara was trying so hard to fight it. As if Gwen hadn’t spent the last several weeks noticing every time that the little tramp jerked or spasmed while having fake blood applied to her. At this point, Gwen not only knew how ticklish Tamara was. She also knew all of the worst spots. She was going to take her time. She stroked the brushes between the spaces in the rib cage and drank in the look on Tamara’s face with each gentle caress.
“This is so stupid...” Tamara could barely get the words out.
“So is immaturity.” Gwen brought the brushes up unexpectedly, running them in the smooth wells of the girl’s shaven underarms. Tamara finally broke down.
“Hehehehehehehehehehehehehe hahahahahahahahahaha...”
“Such a girlish laugh from someone who thinks she’s a badass.” Gwen swept the brushes circles that drew inward, then out. “Coochie coochie coo...”
“Shut up!” Tamara hated baby talk. She always had.
“Oh? Someone doesn’t like being talked to like she’s a tickawish widdle girl?” The brushes continued to dance under Tamara’s arms as the spoiled brat giggled and writhed in place. They spun and swept until there were tears forming in her eyes. Gwen eventually pulled the brushes away and Tamara felt like she could have fallen on her knees and thanked the Lord.
“You’ve made your point.” She said.
“Have I? So you’re ready to change your tune on set?”
“It’s not that simple.” Tamara shook her head.
“Sure it is.” Gwen disagreed. “I guess I have to show you.” Putting the primer brushes away, Gwen traded them in for a powder brush. “That’s right, I can show you just how easy one can change their mind, when given the proper encouragement.” The brush flicked over Tamara’s right breast. There were a few quiet chortles but mostly uneasy groans. When it came to her nipple, she tried once again to twist away.
“That’s what I thought.” Gwen dropped the powder brush and soon had two lip brushes to trace Tamara’s areolas. The giggling started again as the hardening bumps were mercilessly teased. Gwen also noticed the swaying of Tamara’s hips. She was enjoying it. “Oh no… what an embarrassing discovery.” She mocked.
“Hehehehehehehe...” Tamara couldn’t even argue. Her nipples had always been incredibly sensitive, even before she had started to develop. This was torturous for her. But at the same time, she began to feel a familiar, warm feeling inside. And a tingling below her waist that was becoming impossible to ignore.
Without warning, the two brushes jumped down to Tamara’s inner thighs, just mere inches from her groin.
“Unggghhhh!” The sound that Tamara made was the unmistakable grunt of sexual frustration followed by more ticklish titters. Gwen was systematic and precise in her strokes, bringing the brush tips SO close to Tamara’s panties and then bringing them back down. It was so unbearable that Tamara was about to cry.
“Aw, darling, you look upset.” Gwen ribbed her. “Maybe if you just agree to my terms, I can do something to make you feel a little better.
Tamara felt torn apart. How could she just suddenly alter her whole personality without anybody noticing. Without anybody asking why. What was she supposed to do? Tell everyone that she was tickle tortured till she agreed to grow up? It was ludicrous. It was humiliating.
But the touches were getting intolerable. It was at once too ticklish and too tame. She couldn’t hold on anymore.
“OKAY! OKAY! I’LL DO IT! I PROMISE!” She screeched. Gwen didn’t let the torment go on for a single moment more. She pulled the brushes away and had to stop herself from laughing at how much Tamara’s thigh muscles were twitching.
“Now, that’s better.” Are you going to be more patient in the make-up chair?”
“Yes…”
“Are you going to treat the crew with respect?”
“Yes…”
“Are you going to stop shaking your ass at the other actors?”
“Yes… yes, I will. I promise. PLEASE!”
“Alright, alright… settle down.” Gwen went to grab a pair of shears, returning to her stool and cutting the undies right off of Tamara. She shaved everywhere. She probably had her asshole bleached, too. "I would tell you to stay still but I know you’ll have trouble with it.”
Tamara got in a deep breath before she felt her labia spread just barely open. Then the eyeliner brush flicked and fluttered all over her clitoris. The moaning was instantaneous. And Tamara was shaking hard.
“Of course, like any good make-up artist, I can walk and chew gum at the same time.” Gwen stated before Tamara felt the Q tip enter her navel again. The combination of bellybutton and clit tickling kept a huge grin plastered on her face right up until the moment that she cried out, climaxing in place. The cables were the only thing holding her up as her knees buckled and went weak. Soon, she was little more than a sweaty, panting mess in that insidious rack. Gwen stood up, cracking her back with an accomplished sigh.
“Now that we’re done here, I will let you rest for a bit and let you go. And just to make sure that you keep your word…” Tamara watched through teary eyes as Gwen walked back over to the vanity and lifted up a lace tablecloth to reveal a small camera that had been built into the wood.
She had taped the whole thing!
“Call it insurance. You know how much TMZ will pay me for this if you break your promise...”
“Sweet merciful crap! Why is this taking so long!?” Gwen would have thought that Tamara was in a mood, but she had been working with the petulant young actress for just over a month now and knew that it was just her mood in general. Gwen was currently in her 23rd year of doing movie make-up. She liked to dabble in prosthetics and other such effects, but primarily worked in simpler gags. She had signed on to be a part of the crew for The Bloodening 4, knowing it would be a nice paycheck. But the film’s lead actress, Tamara Lin, was an absolute nightmare.
Tamara was of mixed ancestry. There was some Chinese, Taiwanese, and even English in her family tree, but she had been born and raised in America. The end result was that she had the beauty of the orient… and the attitude of a spoiled rich girl. She had long, black hair halfway down her back, and her Chinese lineage showed in her skin. Her body was firm, though she was mostly lacking in figure. And even though Gwen thought that she was very pretty, pretty doesn’t mean much when you spend most of your time acting like a raving bitch.
As for Gwen, she was in her early 50’s. Men didn’t look at her the same way that they would look at Tamara. At least, not anymore. Though she wasn’t huge by any means, she was a few pounds overweight for her height, and her graying hair, which was almost always up in a bun to prevent getting certain paints and chemicals from staining, was beginning to thin. She had three children, the oldest of which was expecting her first. Knowing that she was about to be a grandma didn’t help Gwen with her self esteem issues. As she gazed at Tamara’s body, currently covered only by a sheer pair of panties, she felt jealousy as well as annoyance.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Lin, but it has to look as close as I can get it to how it looked yesterday. As I have explained, it is for continuity issues.” Gwen was having to paint fake blood on the young diva’s body for a scene. The finale of the film required the topless Tamara to be almost completely covered in blood. But getting the patterns just right was a nightmare that only true make-up artists can understand. It didn’t help that Tamara kept squirming and complaining the whole time. It was almost impossible for Gwen to do her job.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. It’s fake blood, just put some in a bucket and let me have it so we can get on with this stupid fucking movie.”
“Here in a minute, I AM gonna let you have it!” Gwen snapped. “All I’ve been hearing for the last couple of days are your insipid complaints! Like you’re so special! How many of your co-stars have you screwed so far, huh? Cause they seem to be the only ones who can stand you on this set!!!”
Tamara was stunned. Aghast.
“How dare you talk to me like that!”
Suddenly, Gwen realized what she had done. One snap of Tamara’s fingers and she would be out of a paycheck.
“I am sorry.” Gwen quickly apologized. Maybe there was something that she could say. Maybe there was something that she could give to Tamara to make her forget about the outburst. Or… or… maybe there was something she could do. A devilish plot began to form in her mind.
“You better be!” Tamara scolded. “Why, in all my years of-”
“You are absolutely right. I shouldn’t be blaming you for my shortcomings.” Gwen said. “But you know… One doesn’t make it very far in my line of work without learning some things.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?” Tamara asked snobbishly.
“Well, I could teach you some terrific make-up tricks. Tricks that would be difficult to implement on myself at my age, but that could keep you looking just the way you are now, well into your thirties.” Gwen offered.
“I suppose...” Tamara was considering the proposal. “I suppose that it’s the least you could do.”
“10:30 tonight at my home. I will text you the address. I will even throw in some mascaras and blushes for free. The expensive kinds.”
“I guess that would be alright.” Tamara agreed. “Now finish this up before I lose my patience.”
Gwen smiled. The trap was set.
“Yes, of course, Ms. Lin.”
Gwen wasn’t surprised that it was 11:30, an hour later than planned, that Tamara knocked on her door. But she knew that she had to try and be civil with the brat until the right moment.
Gwen knocked on the door like a cop banging in a drug dealer’s. The knocks were so obnoxious that Gwen wondered how the diva didn’t show up with red knuckles every day. Still, she put on a brave face and walked over to the door, opening it wide. Tamara didn’t wait to be invited in. She just swept through the doorway as if she hadn’t even physically stopped moving since leaving her car. The actress was wearing a black, high slit party dress. She must have intended to hit a club after this.
“Okay, so you have my attention. You…” Tamara stopped to look around. The front door led right into Gwen’s living room. There were pictures all over of her with famous celebrities from the past two decades. Despite her arrogance, Tamara was still relatively new to Hollywood and didn’t have any history with many of the stars yet. “Wow! Is that you with Schwarzenegger?”
“Sure is.” Gwen picked up the framed photo from next to the couch so that Tamara could get a better look. “I helped with some of the squib work on The Last Stand. He’s a great guy.”
“That’s cool.” Tamara suddenly looked as though she had caught a shiver, and as if shaking off politeness as a corporal entity, went right back to her surly attitude. “So, where are we going to do this?”
“My supplies are in the lab. Follow me.” Gwen led Tamara into the next room. It was huge.
“What is your house like a Tardis or something?” Tamara asked. “It doesn’t look nearly as big from the outside.” Gwen decided to just take the compliment and move on. The room contained about seven different vanities. She clearly would have her team come over to experiment from time to time. But the rest of the room was full of various props left over from different projects that she had worked on. Weapons, costumes… there was even a kind of metal rack in the corner of the room.
“What the Hell is that?” Tamara moved towards the device. It was a metal frame. Two posts that converged like an open doorway with several strands of what looked like bungee cables running all through and around it.
“That’s a rack from a movie I worked on when I was starting my career. In the film, one of the characters is a dominatrix who binds one of her male slaves by making him stand in between all of the cables.” Gwen explained. “Unfortunately, he is still stuck in their when the masked killer breaks into the house. Originally, the actor had to stand in there for almost two straight hours at a time. We would have to let him out between takes so that he wouldn’t cramp up.
“Well, how did it work?” Tamara wasn’t hiding her interest very well.
“Here, let me show you.” The older woman beckoned for Tamara to join her at the rack. “You’ll have to lose the dress. It would be too easy for it to get caught and ripped if you kept it on.”
“C’mon, I hardly have anything under it.” Tamara complained.
“It’s not like I don’t see your body every day, Ms. Lin.” Gwen pointed out. “Don’t be so shy. I can show you how it works and then do your make-up.”
“Oh, very well.” Tamara shrugged and pulled down her dress, stepping out of it to reveal that she was still wearing the same panties from earlier that day. She walked up a step to the rack.
“So, you want to walk around to the other side so that you can step into it.” Tamara did as she was told and moved behind the rack. “Lift your arms.” Tamara did so and Gwen pulled her arms into the weave of cables. After helping her step into it, Gwen took a few seconds to reposition some of the cables, and pulled them a little tighter. Tamara looked as though she was entangled in a spiders web. The cables weren’t uncomfortable, but Tamara couldn’t move more than an inch or two in any direction.
“Okay, so this is a little freaky.” She laughed. “I’m ready to come out already.”
“Oh, are you?” Gwen asked with a tiny snippet of malice. “Cause I might not be ready to let you out yet.”
“Excuse me? You better fucking let me out.” Tamara had no sense of humor about the situation.
“No, there is no excuse for you. And what are you gonna do? Text for help? Hahaha.” Gwen was enjoying every second of this. “I’m sorry but I think that this is necessary. I was going to knock you out and tie you to a chair for this, but I think this works very nicely.”
“What are you fucking talking about?”
“I’m talking about your complete lack of respect in the workplace.” Gwen stated. “I’ve dealt with J Lo. I’ve dealt with Lohan. I even worked on one of Anna Nicole Smith’s last projects before she went off the rails. But you… you’re the worst one yet. You think that you are just entitled to be a little priss to everyone you meet. Well, I hate to break it to you but in the real world, you need to be good at more than bitchiness and blowjobs to get anywhere.
“This is your last warning, you whacked out psycho!”
“Before what? The next one? Face it: You have nothing. Nothing to bait me with. Nothing to negotiate with. And you’re not leaving here until I say you can.” Gwen looked down at a small patch of red just above Tamara’s left hip. “What’s that? Miss a spot after filming today. Don’t worry, I’ll get it.” Gwen turned to one of her vanities and grabbed a plastic tote bag of assorted cotton pads, doing something else that Tamara couldn’t quite see. Then Gwen grabbed another bag that carried about a dozen different make-up brushes before pulling up a stool to the rack and sitting comfortably in front of her captive.
“So what do you want?” Tamara decided to try reasoning with the older woman.
“We’ll get to that. Hold still.” After applying some solution to one of the cotton pads, she reached behind Tamara with her left hand to get ahold of her and keep her in place. Then she gently swabbed the red patch. As she anticipated, Tamara started squirming awkwardly. “You know what is one of the hardest things about my job?” Gwen asked. “Almost is hard as when you are dealing with a rude or impatient performer? It’s when you have to paint up someone who is ticklish.”
“W-what?”
“Oh, yes, because the secret to what I do is getting my clients to hold still. But the tools of my trade… the brushes and Q tips and such… they can tickle an awful lot.” The fake blood was gone now. Gwen leaned forward a little and blew some cool air on the patch of skin, drying it and making goosebumps appear. We’ve been working together for a while now. Definitely long enough for me to know that you are insanely ticklish. So, I decided that tonight, as I said, I would show you some tricks. The thing is though, they are much more designed to make you red in the face than to make it look younger.”
“Oh, so what? Cause you think I’m ticklish, you are gonna try and scare me? You’re fucking ridiculous. Let me go now and I won’t press charges against your stupid ass.” Tamara was trying her best to sound mean and in charge, but both women knew what the score really was.
“Such a big mouth on you. I think I know what will shut you up, though.” Gwen took a new pad. She didn’t put any solution on it, though. She left it dry when she started to sweep it just below Tamara’s surprisingly deep bellybutton. The actress bit the inside of her lower lip and gave her best effort to not move. Proving Gwen wrong was essential to gaining back any power in the situation.
“Nothing to say anymore?” Gwen asked as she circled the bellybutton. “No more dirty words or insults?”
“This is your l-last ch-chance.” Tamara sputtered. “Let me g-go.”
“No, it’s your last chance.” Gwen corrected her. “Laugh.” Gwen gently inserted a Q tip into the navel and slowly twirled it.
“Hehehehehe… noooo…” Tamara whined.
“Like I said, they can tickle a lot.” Gwen twirled the tool for another ten seconds or so before pulling it out. “Now, you have a choice: You can promise to change your attitude and be nicer to everyone on the set. Or we can keep you in there for a while and let you think about it.”
“What’s your edge, though? How exactly can you enforce anything. Once you let me go, I can go back on any promise that I make while I’m in this goddamn thing.”
“You let me worry about that.” Gwen suggested, pulling two primer brushes out of her bag and standing up to face her prey. Tamara felt her lips start to curl as the brushes softly trailed up and down her rib cage on either side of her small, but supple breasts. “What are you smiling at?” Gwen taunted.
“I’m gonna kihihill you…”
“Well, you’re gonna laugh first.” Gwen challenged. She loved that Tamara was trying so hard to fight it. As if Gwen hadn’t spent the last several weeks noticing every time that the little tramp jerked or spasmed while having fake blood applied to her. At this point, Gwen not only knew how ticklish Tamara was. She also knew all of the worst spots. She was going to take her time. She stroked the brushes between the spaces in the rib cage and drank in the look on Tamara’s face with each gentle caress.
“This is so stupid...” Tamara could barely get the words out.
“So is immaturity.” Gwen brought the brushes up unexpectedly, running them in the smooth wells of the girl’s shaven underarms. Tamara finally broke down.
“Hehehehehehehehehehehehehe hahahahahahahahahaha...”
“Such a girlish laugh from someone who thinks she’s a badass.” Gwen swept the brushes circles that drew inward, then out. “Coochie coochie coo...”
“Shut up!” Tamara hated baby talk. She always had.
“Oh? Someone doesn’t like being talked to like she’s a tickawish widdle girl?” The brushes continued to dance under Tamara’s arms as the spoiled brat giggled and writhed in place. They spun and swept until there were tears forming in her eyes. Gwen eventually pulled the brushes away and Tamara felt like she could have fallen on her knees and thanked the Lord.
“You’ve made your point.” She said.
“Have I? So you’re ready to change your tune on set?”
“It’s not that simple.” Tamara shook her head.
“Sure it is.” Gwen disagreed. “I guess I have to show you.” Putting the primer brushes away, Gwen traded them in for a powder brush. “That’s right, I can show you just how easy one can change their mind, when given the proper encouragement.” The brush flicked over Tamara’s right breast. There were a few quiet chortles but mostly uneasy groans. When it came to her nipple, she tried once again to twist away.
“That’s what I thought.” Gwen dropped the powder brush and soon had two lip brushes to trace Tamara’s areolas. The giggling started again as the hardening bumps were mercilessly teased. Gwen also noticed the swaying of Tamara’s hips. She was enjoying it. “Oh no… what an embarrassing discovery.” She mocked.
“Hehehehehehehe...” Tamara couldn’t even argue. Her nipples had always been incredibly sensitive, even before she had started to develop. This was torturous for her. But at the same time, she began to feel a familiar, warm feeling inside. And a tingling below her waist that was becoming impossible to ignore.
Without warning, the two brushes jumped down to Tamara’s inner thighs, just mere inches from her groin.
“Unggghhhh!” The sound that Tamara made was the unmistakable grunt of sexual frustration followed by more ticklish titters. Gwen was systematic and precise in her strokes, bringing the brush tips SO close to Tamara’s panties and then bringing them back down. It was so unbearable that Tamara was about to cry.
“Aw, darling, you look upset.” Gwen ribbed her. “Maybe if you just agree to my terms, I can do something to make you feel a little better.
Tamara felt torn apart. How could she just suddenly alter her whole personality without anybody noticing. Without anybody asking why. What was she supposed to do? Tell everyone that she was tickle tortured till she agreed to grow up? It was ludicrous. It was humiliating.
But the touches were getting intolerable. It was at once too ticklish and too tame. She couldn’t hold on anymore.
“OKAY! OKAY! I’LL DO IT! I PROMISE!” She screeched. Gwen didn’t let the torment go on for a single moment more. She pulled the brushes away and had to stop herself from laughing at how much Tamara’s thigh muscles were twitching.
“Now, that’s better.” Are you going to be more patient in the make-up chair?”
“Yes…”
“Are you going to treat the crew with respect?”
“Yes…”
“Are you going to stop shaking your ass at the other actors?”
“Yes… yes, I will. I promise. PLEASE!”
“Alright, alright… settle down.” Gwen went to grab a pair of shears, returning to her stool and cutting the undies right off of Tamara. She shaved everywhere. She probably had her asshole bleached, too. "I would tell you to stay still but I know you’ll have trouble with it.”
Tamara got in a deep breath before she felt her labia spread just barely open. Then the eyeliner brush flicked and fluttered all over her clitoris. The moaning was instantaneous. And Tamara was shaking hard.
“Of course, like any good make-up artist, I can walk and chew gum at the same time.” Gwen stated before Tamara felt the Q tip enter her navel again. The combination of bellybutton and clit tickling kept a huge grin plastered on her face right up until the moment that she cried out, climaxing in place. The cables were the only thing holding her up as her knees buckled and went weak. Soon, she was little more than a sweaty, panting mess in that insidious rack. Gwen stood up, cracking her back with an accomplished sigh.
“Now that we’re done here, I will let you rest for a bit and let you go. And just to make sure that you keep your word…” Tamara watched through teary eyes as Gwen walked back over to the vanity and lifted up a lace tablecloth to reveal a small camera that had been built into the wood.
She had taped the whole thing!
“Call it insurance. You know how much TMZ will pay me for this if you break your promise...”
Only wish there was some foot tickling too!
