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Reins of the Tomb Raider	By : HunterOpera Category: +S through Z > Tomb Raider (all) > Tomb Raider (all) Views: 38203 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Tomb Raider and make no money from this. Also, this is not a happy story. It will not have a happy ending. You have been warned.

Chapter List
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The long winter months passed. My dear friend stood with my family in the long cold dark, and we stood together against the ice and the snow – keeping the paths clear for the young and elderly alike, running food to those that needed it, helping those who were lost or who had their homes destroyed to find shelter. The howling winds made speech impossible while outside, and the billowing sheets of snow obscured all vistas. Parmistan is a glorious land, yes, but not a loving one.

Only the statues of Bacchus and Neptune stayed free of winter's taint, though some brave souls ventured to the fountain of Aurora to make their offerings. Spring seemed so very far away, and desperation causes people to take dangerous risks.

Lara Croft was no longer so desperate. The hope my dear friend, the Earl of Faringdon, had infected her with kept her compliant.

At night, when only a fool would venture out into the wilds, my dear friend and I watched the progress that Drasha was making with the woman that was, in every possible way, his property. A plow was attached to the Croft woman's harness and she was marched out, shivering, to clear the snows of the stable. Then and only then would her training begin.

The cameras were able to catch her trembling, the slow way her eyes glossed over as day after day Drahsa put her though her paces. The stablehands were not so eager to use her in the cold, but Lara was eager to get to her training – the heavy demands of physical activity kept her warm, and the difficulty of her training kept her focused on not being cold.

No longer did she miss the string of numbers that Drasha assigned her with every new day. There were fewer moments that the whip was necessary, the corrections Drasha offered the criminal becoming simple routine. As the winters had made my dear friend strong, so they did the same with Lara's body.

Her legs became stronger, her abdomen tight and muscled. Where before she had been merely beautiful and graceful, now her movements were controlled, elegant and refined. The harness and the gods inside her forced her to sway her hips as she walked, the point of her shoes keeping her legs taut and toned. Her hips, already a source of strength, rounded and tightened at once, her buttocks a pleasure to watch both at motion and stillness.

As the winter toned her body, so it destroyed what was left of her mind. No longer was this the proud and haughty criminal that had broken into the Village of the Damned. My dear friend and I, we watched as her eyes and expression faded from fierce intelligence to dull compliance. He smiled as I clasped him on the back.

“Do you think she'll be ready for spring?” James asked me, licking his lips after a long day. We were both shivering over a cup of spiced steaming chocolate, having spent the day fixing Ivo's broken roof.

“We will see, my friend,” I told him. “She will need more training, I think, both to til your fields and to participate in the races.” I saw the way his eyes lit up, brightening the room, when I mentioned that last part.

And, indeed, as the winters thawed Drasha took Lara aside. The criminal offered no resistance as the chariot was fastened to her hips, her arms unbound so that her fingers could wrap around the wood that connected her to the platform that Drasha would ride. When Drasha claimed the reins, Lara snapped to attention. When Drasha's crop flashed and struck the former Tomb Raider's ass, the woman lifted her leg in the proper manner and began the long canter to Karouse.

Once in Karouse, Drasha tied Lara's reins to a hitching post and went to speak with Slobodan. His sons and daughter came out to play with the pony, stroking her hair and breasts, suckling on her. Drasha and Slobodan were discussing terms over glasses of wine when the oldest of Slobodan's sons bent the girl over and thrust into her. By the time he was finished, the two of them had spat into their hands and shaken their agreement.

Lara would help Slobodan with the planting season. Her arms were unbound from her side as a yoke was fitted around her collar so that her arms might be fastened there, hands parallel with her head but held helplessly away. So she would stay for the coming weeks, dragging a massive rake behind her to mix the topsoil on Slobodan's farmland. When he and his children were tired they would play with Lara, letting her rest on her knees, removing the bit from her mouth so they could use her tongue.

“She's getting a lot of practice,” James laughed, clasping me on the back. “Would you like to sample her when she is fully trained?”

“You would do this for me?” I asked him, choking up.

“I have no dearer friend in the world than you, Zamir Pokuopec,” he answered. I did not cry at this admission.

When the planting season was complete, Drasha took Lara back to Sirgeof and taught her proper racing. The former duchess clearly enjoyed herself her, working up a fine lather of sweat as she tore around the track. James and I made the journey from Candover to Sirgeof to watch Drasha put her through her paces.

“She is quite fast,” I said, watching her way her breasts bounced as she bounded through the track, Drasha's whip flicking out to keep her motivated when it looked like she might slow.

“Lara was always so talented at track,” James said, smiling. His eyes never left Lara, not even when Drasha finally allowed her to rest. She panted but forced herself to remain steady, her high-necked collar keeping her neck straight, the racing harness keeping her wrists bound together and behind her back. Drasha left her panting and steady to come and speak to us.

“She is ready to start serving her sentence,” Drasha said. James looked eager, but I rested a hand on his shoulder.

“You have warned me about how dangerous she is,” I reminded him. “What harm is there in letting Drasha train her for another year before you claim her? If she looks broken now, my good friend, then she will be broken and thoroughly trained this time next year.”

James nodded his head and licked his lips, not managing to tear his eyes from the shuddering form of the tanned woman that had once been his fiancee.

“There is another benefit to this,” Drasha added. I looked at her even if James did not, for I was curious as to what this benefit might be, and Drasha's wicked smile was always a pleasure. “By this time next year, her hair will have grown long enough for us to use it to make a tail.”

James and I both laughed at this.

And so another year passed. Lara complied with the demands that Drasha made of her, lifting her legs up high, keeping her back straight. After another winter and planting season she was even willing to keep her form without the harness, and so her training harness was replaced with something more pleasing to the eye.

She earned the name Duchess, a reference to the person she had been before becoming a convicted criminal. Even after all the training that Drasha had put her through, the name called to mind some distant memory, an identity that no longer applied, and it brought a lovely color to her cheeks whenever anyone addressed her by that name.

Duchess was a good animal, however. Trained into obedience. She stood still when the shears were brought to her hair, though she did sniffle somewhat – the vanity of woman was not a thing so easily lost, not even from two long years of training. She could not see that the long strands collected and then tethered to a butt plug.

“It is shaped like Poena,” I explained. “The one in her cunt is shaped like Bachuus.”

Lara was bent over, and though her legs twitched and she cried out, she offered no other resistant as the plug was introduced to her, forced inside of her. Her anal mouth resisted at first, the criminal whining as it was forced in, but then the lips of that cavity swallowed the plug. Her handlers pulled on the strands of hair, making certain it was steady and in place before standing away.

Her stiff collar and the blinders kept her from seeing her woven hair hanging down between her legs, but it was clear she felt the strands as they tickled her inner thighs. We could see the effect the weight and girth of her new plugs had on her, and it took another week for Lara to become accustomed to her.

This, then, was how Lara Croft was presented to us – as a trained animal, compliant. Drasha handed James the crop and explained how to direct her, how to treat and feed her.

“Her food is drugged, so you do not have to worry about period or pregnancy,” Drasha explained. James circled the crop over her breast and Lara lowered her gaze, Her head held steady as the crop traveled lower, along her hip, down into the cleft between her legs. “The drugs do not effect her mind, but they have relaxed her vocal cords and limit the times and amount of waste. Keep to this schedule, and let me know if she gives you any trouble.”

“If she does?” James asked.

“Bring her back,” Drasha said, crossing her arms over her chest. “We will suspend her sentence, then re-start it when I am certain of her training. But you'll be a good little animal, won't you, Duchess?”

Lara made a sound like a pony might. There was a pleading look in her eyes, a fading gleam as she recognized James but was too afraid of Drasha to do anything about it.

I took Drasha to one side. Ivo had an idea and I had shared it with James, and he made use of it now; later, I would hear the hurried and whispered conversation.

“Are you okay?” James whispered, leaning in close. “I couldn't get you free – your escape attempt has made things difficult – but I did get you remanded to my custody. I need to keep up appearances that you're serving your sentence, but I'll take care of you as much as I can. Do you understand?”

Lara's weak attempt at a nod was the only sign she could give.

We took her home, the two of us riding the chariot that Lara pulled. James held her reins with one hand and the crop with the other, taking her along the roads from Sirgeof to Candover. During the planting season, we had built a small stables for Lara beside James' home, and we introduced Lara to her new home, stripping her out of the harness.

“Zamir, my dear friend, I made you a promise,” James said. He bent Lara over a fence post, and when I presented my cock to her she looked at it for a long moment before opening her mouth, accepting my manhood into the warmth of her tongue. A few moments later, James removed the statue of Bacchus from her cunt thrust into her, his head tilting back as he entered her with a groan. “She's so tight!”

“I believe you will enjoy this end, too,” I said, sighing. Lara's tongue danced along my length, drawing forth my seed. She gobbled it down, spilling not a drop, then held me until softness. Her small whining sent shivers through me as James continued to use her, finally letting loose with a hissing cry.

“Ten years,” James said, panting smiling.

I nodded, saying nothing.

For the rest of summer and harvest, Lara did not leave James' side. He brought her indoors, his hands pressing into her thighs, along her spine, his fingers sometimes questing inside of her. She would curl into his hand when he so cupped her, eyes closing and cheeks flushed, and there was no one in all of Candover who did not enjoy the sight of them together.

When winter came she helped clear the pathways, pulling James by sled so that he could deliver food or rescue stragglers. In the planting season, she till the fields of his garden, and he was kind enough to lend her to myself and my family, that we might have an easier time of things. And after, always after the work was done, we would take the harness from her and thrust into her, swapping holes, using her as we saw fit.

Spring came and Ivo asked to meet with us. James came early in the morning, Lara pulling his chariot, the marks on her ass proof of his guidance. He tethered her, leaving the children to kiss her thighs with slim twigs until the two of us had suckled on cups of coffee and were ready to go. My eldest daughter had offered Lara a cube of sugar, and so she offered no resistance when my daughter suckled at her breast, her hand toying with the gods inside her.

Both James and I took note of Lara's glistening thighs as we went to meet my cousin. We smiled to greet us, an absent hand cupping Lara's cheek as she dismounted, each of clasping the other and glancing at Lara. She would be stripped later and the three of us would enjoy her, but the meeting would come first.

“Zamir, my cousin!” Ivo said, smiling. “James, my dear friend! I have new you must hear.”

“What is it?” James asked.

“You will be having visitors soon,” Ivo said. “Somehow, some of the nobility of your country have heard about Lara's stay and are coming to see what has befallen her for themselves.”

*

Well, that took longer than expected. Yes, this story is now moving towards a better ending for everyone, except maybe James. I am, as always, interested in feedback: all comments, replies, and questions will be replied to here: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/36931-metroid-the-bergman-affair-feedback-comments-and-workshopping/page-10 Next chapter should be up sometime this weekend. Thanks for reading~!
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Reins of the Tomb Raider