dentrag1231
TMF Expert
- Joined
- Jan 21, 2005
- Messages
- 555
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“Damn it, down to my last clip” sighed Susan Lancaster as she loaded her Chinese assault rifle. The past few months had not gone well for her. First, those damn ghouls moved into Tenpenny Tower, and she defiantly not about to live there with them. It’s just as well she left though, since she heard rumour they slaughtered the humans. Filthy zombies. But unlike the rest of the inhabitants, she hadn’t got there on luck. She carved out her own piece of the wasteland for herself. But that was before the so called “lone wanderer”. First thing she did was trek up to paradise falls, and see if she couldn’t join back up with them. She found only bodies. So she hiked up to the northern border, where she heard slaver where rounding up recruits and bodies for a place called The Pitt. Turns out he hit there to. Realizing that as long as that do–gooder was around, she decided to try and join Talon Company, take the fight to him. After the third outpost she tried proved to be a smouldering wreck, she decided maybe joining them wasn’t a great idea. So she headed west out of the capital wasteland, and never looked back.
Turns out she wasn’t the only one with this idea. Every 2-bit raider and thug was also hauling ass out of the wasteland, determined not to show up in the sights of his .44 repeater. This made the area surrounding it more dangerous than any other stretch of wasteland she had ever seen. Within a few months, she had nothing left but some almost worn away merc outfit, and a near broken assault rifle. And she had just wasted precious ammo on a radscorp, which had nothing of value on it. The venom sack might have been worth something, but no trader with half a brain stuck around in these areas anymore. She was so focused on the seeming hopelessness of her situation that she didn’t even hear the slavers sneak up behind her, or feel the butt of their rifle as everything went black.
“Well well, if it isn’t Susan Lancaster. Guess we weren’t the only survivors after all.” Said a voice as Susan came out of unconsciousness. Wherever she was, it was really dark. It took her a few second to realize she was actually blindfolded. She tried to move, only to discover she was tied down to a chair, her arms above her head, and her feet in front of her. On top of that, she had some dusty cloth jammed in her mouth, gagging her. The worst part, however was she recognized that voice.
“But then again, you were retired, weren’t you, when the Lone Wanderer came and slaughtered us all.” Said Clover, the psychopathic bodyguard of Eulogy Jones, former leader of the salvers in the Capital Wasteland. “Course, not everyone was there when he struck. A lot of us were out rounding up bodies. I myself was hired out as a bodyguard to one of our customers. Didn’t matter, though. He tracked us down, one by one. Some on purpose, some just had the misfortune to run into him. Even without the super mutant and dog that follow him around, they never had chance. He even went all the way to The Pitt to kill slavers. Anyway, my master was killed by a supermutant before I could dispatch it, and seeing as how the wasteland become less safe for people like me, I dedicated to head out. I managed to find some slaving parties who had similar ideas, and we’ve been planning to start the trade back up. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is you. Normally, we’d either kill you, or collar you. But we’re really short of good people, and could use your help. And seeing as how the wealthy Susan Lancaster only has only a busted rifle to her name, I don’t see you refusing. Of course, we can’t let you go unpunished. So just consider the next few hours the price of admission”
And, without warning as to her intent, Clover dug her nails into Susan’s ribs. Instantly, she was laughing into herm makeshift gag, bucking in vain in an attempt to escape. Her outfit had degraded to the point where it was held together by a few threads, and this unfortunately meant that pretty much every spot of skin on her that could be ticklish was exposed. And despite that harsh conditions of the last few months, her skin still hadn’t adjusted to its old life, leaving it tender and sensitive, if a little dusty. Clover was taking advantage of this, her sharp nails poking and prodding between her ribs.
Pleased with how ticklish her captive was, she moved her hands up to her exposed armpits, eliciting an even greater reaction. She especially loved the way Susan tried to squirm back and forth, despite the ropes tied just below her pits.”Aw, is the big strong Susan a ticklish little girl? Too bad you can’t pay to stop being so ticklish” she teased. But that wasn’t enough. She wanted to make her truly suffer.
So, she stuck a sharp nail into her bellybutton, making her squeal into the gag. With her other hand, she began to tease and tickle her thighs, brining Susan into a state of arousal. However, every time her hands neared her crotch, she just moved into back, keeping Susan in a state of desire as she tickled the crap out of her. Meanwhile, the finger in her bellybutton, was twirling and wiggling now, making her shake her head back and forth in an attempt to struggle with some part of her body, however pointless the struggle may have been.
Then, when her crotch grew wet and her face flush, Clover moved down and began tickling her knees “Maybe I’ll let you come if you laugh for me. But that cloth does seem to be preventing that, sugar. Maybe if we give your feet a tickle, you’ll be willing to laugh.” And, against Susan’s hopes, she pulled off her boots, revealing, smooth, if sweaty and dirty feet. Neither seemed to bother Clover as she sniffed one, seemingly enjoying the sweaty smell.
“What the hell is she doing?” Susan though to herself. She didn’t have much time to think, as she felt something wet and sticky being poured over her feet, hearing the familiar fizzing of Nuka cola as it washed the dirt off. Then, she felt something warm and wet move across her soles, and dissolved back into helpless laughter as her foot was tickle licked. For Susan, it was hell. For Clover, this was fun. Not only did she get to make Susan suffer for betraying the slavers, but she also got to have some Nuka-cola and smooth soles, which might as well have been a delicacy in the wasteland. Suffering was making way to confusion however, as Susan, despite wanting it to stop more than anything, found herself getting more turned on by this. Was having her foot licked actually making her hot? She didn’t have much time to reflect on it, however, as Clover began darting her tongue between her toes, and Susan went insane. After what seemed like forever, she lost the will to even struggle, just sitting there laughing into her gag.
Clover seemed to take that as surrender, because she stopped. Going up to Susan, she removed the gag, and gave her some water, but Susan was too tired to respond. Clover, however, didn’t want a response anyway. Pulling up a stool, she put her own dusty feet to Susan’s face. “well, sugar, doesn’t seem right that you get your feet cleaned and mine are still dirty. And I’m fresh out of Nuka, and i’m not about to waste water.” Not even bothering to object, Susan began to lick her dusty feet, which were surprisingly smooth.
“That’s a good girl” purred Clover, as she moved her hand back towards Susan’s crotch and -
Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sorry, but I’m unable to end this story. I tried to end it with the big wheel of clichés, like I always do, and since apparently you’re not supposed to use it that much without maintenance, the wheel came of the swivel, rolled into traffic, and caused a giant collision, despite the fact my window doesn’t even face the road. To pay for the legal costs of getting out of the fines, I agreed to a trade: I post an advertisement; I get defended by a corporate lawyer.
DRINK NUKA COLA! WITH A CAP ON EVERY BOTTLE, YOU CAN’T AFFORD NOT TO!
Turns out she wasn’t the only one with this idea. Every 2-bit raider and thug was also hauling ass out of the wasteland, determined not to show up in the sights of his .44 repeater. This made the area surrounding it more dangerous than any other stretch of wasteland she had ever seen. Within a few months, she had nothing left but some almost worn away merc outfit, and a near broken assault rifle. And she had just wasted precious ammo on a radscorp, which had nothing of value on it. The venom sack might have been worth something, but no trader with half a brain stuck around in these areas anymore. She was so focused on the seeming hopelessness of her situation that she didn’t even hear the slavers sneak up behind her, or feel the butt of their rifle as everything went black.
“Well well, if it isn’t Susan Lancaster. Guess we weren’t the only survivors after all.” Said a voice as Susan came out of unconsciousness. Wherever she was, it was really dark. It took her a few second to realize she was actually blindfolded. She tried to move, only to discover she was tied down to a chair, her arms above her head, and her feet in front of her. On top of that, she had some dusty cloth jammed in her mouth, gagging her. The worst part, however was she recognized that voice.
“But then again, you were retired, weren’t you, when the Lone Wanderer came and slaughtered us all.” Said Clover, the psychopathic bodyguard of Eulogy Jones, former leader of the salvers in the Capital Wasteland. “Course, not everyone was there when he struck. A lot of us were out rounding up bodies. I myself was hired out as a bodyguard to one of our customers. Didn’t matter, though. He tracked us down, one by one. Some on purpose, some just had the misfortune to run into him. Even without the super mutant and dog that follow him around, they never had chance. He even went all the way to The Pitt to kill slavers. Anyway, my master was killed by a supermutant before I could dispatch it, and seeing as how the wasteland become less safe for people like me, I dedicated to head out. I managed to find some slaving parties who had similar ideas, and we’ve been planning to start the trade back up. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is you. Normally, we’d either kill you, or collar you. But we’re really short of good people, and could use your help. And seeing as how the wealthy Susan Lancaster only has only a busted rifle to her name, I don’t see you refusing. Of course, we can’t let you go unpunished. So just consider the next few hours the price of admission”
And, without warning as to her intent, Clover dug her nails into Susan’s ribs. Instantly, she was laughing into herm makeshift gag, bucking in vain in an attempt to escape. Her outfit had degraded to the point where it was held together by a few threads, and this unfortunately meant that pretty much every spot of skin on her that could be ticklish was exposed. And despite that harsh conditions of the last few months, her skin still hadn’t adjusted to its old life, leaving it tender and sensitive, if a little dusty. Clover was taking advantage of this, her sharp nails poking and prodding between her ribs.
Pleased with how ticklish her captive was, she moved her hands up to her exposed armpits, eliciting an even greater reaction. She especially loved the way Susan tried to squirm back and forth, despite the ropes tied just below her pits.”Aw, is the big strong Susan a ticklish little girl? Too bad you can’t pay to stop being so ticklish” she teased. But that wasn’t enough. She wanted to make her truly suffer.
So, she stuck a sharp nail into her bellybutton, making her squeal into the gag. With her other hand, she began to tease and tickle her thighs, brining Susan into a state of arousal. However, every time her hands neared her crotch, she just moved into back, keeping Susan in a state of desire as she tickled the crap out of her. Meanwhile, the finger in her bellybutton, was twirling and wiggling now, making her shake her head back and forth in an attempt to struggle with some part of her body, however pointless the struggle may have been.
Then, when her crotch grew wet and her face flush, Clover moved down and began tickling her knees “Maybe I’ll let you come if you laugh for me. But that cloth does seem to be preventing that, sugar. Maybe if we give your feet a tickle, you’ll be willing to laugh.” And, against Susan’s hopes, she pulled off her boots, revealing, smooth, if sweaty and dirty feet. Neither seemed to bother Clover as she sniffed one, seemingly enjoying the sweaty smell.
“What the hell is she doing?” Susan though to herself. She didn’t have much time to think, as she felt something wet and sticky being poured over her feet, hearing the familiar fizzing of Nuka cola as it washed the dirt off. Then, she felt something warm and wet move across her soles, and dissolved back into helpless laughter as her foot was tickle licked. For Susan, it was hell. For Clover, this was fun. Not only did she get to make Susan suffer for betraying the slavers, but she also got to have some Nuka-cola and smooth soles, which might as well have been a delicacy in the wasteland. Suffering was making way to confusion however, as Susan, despite wanting it to stop more than anything, found herself getting more turned on by this. Was having her foot licked actually making her hot? She didn’t have much time to reflect on it, however, as Clover began darting her tongue between her toes, and Susan went insane. After what seemed like forever, she lost the will to even struggle, just sitting there laughing into her gag.
Clover seemed to take that as surrender, because she stopped. Going up to Susan, she removed the gag, and gave her some water, but Susan was too tired to respond. Clover, however, didn’t want a response anyway. Pulling up a stool, she put her own dusty feet to Susan’s face. “well, sugar, doesn’t seem right that you get your feet cleaned and mine are still dirty. And I’m fresh out of Nuka, and i’m not about to waste water.” Not even bothering to object, Susan began to lick her dusty feet, which were surprisingly smooth.
“That’s a good girl” purred Clover, as she moved her hand back towards Susan’s crotch and -
Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sorry, but I’m unable to end this story. I tried to end it with the big wheel of clichés, like I always do, and since apparently you’re not supposed to use it that much without maintenance, the wheel came of the swivel, rolled into traffic, and caused a giant collision, despite the fact my window doesn’t even face the road. To pay for the legal costs of getting out of the fines, I agreed to a trade: I post an advertisement; I get defended by a corporate lawyer.
DRINK NUKA COLA! WITH A CAP ON EVERY BOTTLE, YOU CAN’T AFFORD NOT TO!
