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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.

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“Father, when can Innocent come home with us?” my eldest daughter asked me. I smiled at her, clasping her on the back, amused by her excitement. We were at the breakfast table, all of the family, enjoying this meal together as the late summer sun pushed through the window. That light touched our table and beyond, brushing past the sole bag I had prepared at my dear friend's request.

“Are you sure you are ready for such a responsibility?” I teased. She laughed and shook her head, looking at her siblings – already, Innocent's training was coming along, she taking to the task much quicker than Lara had. She lacked the fire that James' property possessed, or had until the Great Game. Now, Lara was docile and passive. The wildness in Innocence was born of shock instead of dignity, as we had been assured that the Rebecca person she had been did not possess that virtue.

“Father,” my daughter drawled, and several of the other children looked at her and laughed. I met my wife's eyes and smiled when she gave a slight nod.

“Ah,” I smiled, and shook my head. “Drasha says she can stable here until winter, but Innocent had never seen a winter like ours before and must be back in Sirgeof for that season. She will be dropping your pet off sometime today.”

The children looked at their mother for confirmation, and she smiled at their excited faces when they knew my words.

“It's true,” she confirmed. “You will get Innocent to help with the harvest in your father's absence.”

It was a ploy my wife and I had devised, one to take the sting away from the journey I was about to make. Following the Great Game, James had escorted Steph back to Britian and been gone for a full month before returning. He had asked me to go with him to his homeland, where he planned to stable Duchess for the winter. Given all that he had done for me, how could I deny him this small favor?

And so my wife and I kissed one another good-bye, and I hugged my children as Innocent arrived. Her eyes had lost some of their wide terror, a dull compliance seeping into them. The angry red welts along her ass and thighs most likely had much to do with that.

“Take good care of my family,” I told her, pulling on her reins. She nodded her head as I cupped one breast, tweaking the nipple to drive home the point. She stamped one of her feet, her eyes downcast and cheeks a delicious shade of pink. I knew my eldest son had taken a liking to her, and doubted the two of them would ever be far apart. Her eyes flickered to him, her arousal leaking down her thighs, and I smiled and waved both my eldest children over.

“She had been an ex-juvenile convict, drug dealer, and bartender back in her former life,” Drasha told me, “but we have freed her from her former addictions.”

“We will be a good influence on her,” my daughter agreed, taking Innocent's reins and leading the animal off to my family's affections. I nodded, watching the sway of her hips, wondering if she understood that this life would be better than the one she had wasted? My family and I hugged once more when James arrived, and I stepped onto the back of his chariot and allowed him to guide us from Candover and to the paths that would take us down into the rest of the world.

“You're sure your comfortable with this?” James asked me, frowning as we looked down at the road we must take. “You know better than I, we won't be able to return until spring.”

“I am sure, my dear friend,” I said, clasping him on the back. In my heart I was less certain, and I gave my homeland a lingering look before the two of us turned to the task of preparing Lara for travel.

She could not keep her animal dressage on the way down – the treacherous paths would have ended her life, and though she was a criminal she had not been sentenced to death. We stripped her and she allowed this to be done, keeping her eyes downcast and her tongue still until she was naked in the morning light. We took in the sight, the two of us, and used her quickly one last time before our descent, for luck.

Though she would be kept mostly undressed, she was granted a comfortable pair of boots, ones that had once belonged to her in her old life, and a pair of gloves. She kept her collar, a length of rope used to keep her between James and myself. He had some misgivings about this, but Drasha had assured us that the fomer Tomb Raider was nothing but a dull echo of who she had once been.

And, indeed, though the climb down was perilous, she did not try to escape. She was docile, submissive, broken. Drasha's work was always the best, and when we reached the bottom I looked up towards my glorious homeland and thanked her for her good works, offering a prayer to Neptune, Justita, and Poena.

“Keep my family safe,” I whispered, thinking of the fountains so far above us.

“They'll be fine,” James answered, clasping me on the back with an easy grin. We got Lara to suck us off while waiting for the caravan he had arranged to take us to his home. They arrived a short time after Lara had suckled us both dry, twice each, and James was magnanimous enough to allow our guides each a turn. They were surprised by her tightness and compliance, smiling at one another as they thrust deep into her throat, her arms limp by her sides as she sputtered and choked upon their seed.

"Don't waste any," James said. Weary, Lara nodded and bent down, licking up whatever goo had dripped down onto the ground. By the time she had taken it all in we all of us were hard again, and she moved to the task she was meant for without complaint.

After we were all done with her, her boots were taken and she was forced to kneel in a steel shelled box. The inside wrought with foam that had been fitted for the smuggling of women, and Lara whimpered a little as two plugs filled her kneeling form as she settled in. She was fastened inside, two thick bands over her thighs before she forced to bend over, another phallus pushing past her lips and settling in the back of her throat as another band forced her to stay in this position. James stroked her hair as I studied the box, curious as the upper shell was brought over and fastened into place. Once this was done, Lara's small whimperings vanished along with the rest of her.

“The lower ones handle waste and keep her entertained,” one of my guides explained. “The one of her mouth forces gruel down her mouth, enough to keep her alive, and lets air in and out.”

“It is healthy?” I asked. "The gruel?"

“She will have some vitamin deficiencies,” the guide answered, then shrugged. “Nothing you won't be able to fix when you get where you're going.”

The caravan took us to an airport in Dushanbe, where we boarded a private airplane and took off for the British Isles. I had never flown before, and the rattling of take off had me worried. James soothed me, explaining what we would find when we arrived at his country, and I was pleased with the meal and entertainment we were provided as we flew from one part of the world to another.

Steph greeted us when we landed, and we took a limousine from the airport to James' new residence, the former Croft Manor. The experience of being in an automobile was also a new one for me, and the easy luxury of it was strongly appealing. I stared out the window, watching the landscape flow by – from cityscape to pastoral, both larger than I would have thought possible.

“I've renamed it the Berners Estate,” James said, smiling as the gates to his home opened. “Croft Manor, I mean. What do you think?”

“It is lovely,” I answered, though in truth I had little knowledge of what it had looked like before James had claimed it.

The Berners Estate was a large patch of land, perhaps a quarter the size of Sirgeof all on its own. It was gated with ancient walls, the stonework fastidiously kept, and the manor itself was a large two story building that was almost as large as the airport had been. When the limousine came to a halt I exited and stared up at the solitary structure, it large in the way of a holy temple. James laughed at my expression.

“The Crofts knew how to live it up,” he said, clasping me on the back. “Come, I'll show you your room.”

The interior was as splendid as the exterior, tastefully decorated with relics of the ancient world, a large internal courtyard with floor to ceiling windows of stained glass, allowing sunlight to trickle through. My room was as large as the estate we had given James back in Parmistan, and I was surprised by this. He laughed again.

“Come on,” he said, gesturing for me to follow, “let me show you where we're setting up the former Miss Croft.”

We went to collect her on the way, removing her from her shell. She winced as she was pulled out of the case, cried as her tight holes were pulled off of the gods that had been her sole company on this long journey. A viscous line trailed her first faltering steps, breaking as she stepped free and blinked in the light of her homeland and former home. She offered no resistance and looked around with dumb incomprehension as we quickly dressed her – harness and bit, tail and boots.

By the time we were done there was a flicker of light in her eyes, she craning her head to look pleadingly at the home that had once been hers. She whinnied, pawing at the ground with one of her hooves, looking at James with a question in her eyes.

“Oh, there's enough of you left to recognize your old home, bitch?” James taunted. He wrapped a hand around her hip, pulling her close to him, laughing as he fingered her and she wilted. “You probably don't remember signing over your home to me, do you?”

A grinning Steph walked over to Lara and pulled at her nipples, hardening them so that she could place the latticework of reins on the animal we had caught.

“We had you declared dead in absentia, Lara,” Steph said, forcing the criminal to look at her. “That paperwork you signed was a living will, and it gave most of your worldly belongings to James, here. It was witnessed by a couple of other lords you offended by being such a bitch.” Steph spat in Lara's face as she finished.

The criminal shook her head, bowing her features, shaking and crying while we looked on. Steph finished attaching the reins to the Tomb Raider, tugging on her bit, her nipples, her vaginal lips in turn to make certain they were fastened on tightly. The distraught Croft woman shuddered and shook, sobbing in a way that made me hard.

“She just responded to her old name,” I said. James spanked her and looked at me, smiling.

“Silly little bitch,” he said. “She should know better by now.”

The three of us led her to her new home – a stable that James had retrofitted to look like one of the stables back in glorious Parmistan. He slapped her ass again, tying her in for the night, forcing her eyes to watch recordings of her debasement while the phalluses in her lower holes throbbed.

“I've hired some people to care for you, same as the stablehands back in Parmistan,” James whispered in her ear, his hands tracing the line of her hip and then cupping her breasts, pulling on them as she whimpered. “They're orphans, fathers killed by some bitch adventurer. The house staff is mostly their mothers. I imagine everyone is going to take good care of you.”

James looked over at some of his staff, showing the teens how to pull the tail from her ass, and then we took turns fucking her before replacing the tail. While we slept on 2000-count linen sheets, Lara half-slept standing only four dozen steps from her former home. The maids all took turns spitting and pissing in Lara's food before feeding it to her, and the stablehands enjoyed cleaning her, fucking her, and cleaning her again.

Life settled into a routine similar to the one Lara had enjoyed in Parmistan, but that was not enough.

“There was a Great Game back in Parmistan,” James said, and let me explain to them how it worked. When I was done, he continued. “She came close to winning, but I think she could use some training. I want her to win next year, and I think that all of us together can make that happen.”

“What do you have in mind?” Steph asked. She was panting, having spent most of the day putting Lara through her paces and only stopping now for lunch. She was a frequent guest, and enjoyed tormenting Lara almost as much as the staff did.

“Karma, the winner, does this thing where she stops outside the Village of the Damned,” James said. “That's how she wins. Lara's faster than her and stronger than her, but that's, I think, where she loses. I don't want her to stop, though, not like Karma does. That just seems like cheating.”

“So, what do you have in mind?” Steph repeated, rolling her eyes and sending a half-smile my way. I smiled back. The two of us had been known to enjoy one another's company, and she had been showing me around London over the past number of weeks, as the weather worsened and turned from scant sun to heavy rains.

James smiled.

Over the next week, a track was laid out for Lara to run through. Steph, James, and myself took turns directing the criminal from the comfort of her chariot while one of us held up an umbrella. James had laid out various stations where the staff would wait for her under small enclosures, where they could stay dry while waiting for the animal to come to them. When Lara reached a staff member she would be directed to that member, and be forced to use one of her holes to bring that staff member to orgasm.

She was timed, of course, with James setting goals for her to reach and having her whipped for every second she wasted. She became adept at milking cocks with her cunt, her hips bucking until a boy's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he staggered back, a line of sperm connecting Lara to the man that had so recently filled her.

The women, of course, enjoyed the services of Lara's clever tongue, removing her bit and grasping her hair, roughly shoving her face into the core of them. One after another Lara devoured them, driving them to ecstacy, all of them marking Lara with their ejaculate and piss.

Lara was never given a chance to recover from being used in this way – doing so would mar her time – but we all watched as she cried in her sleep, the images of her servicing so many permeating her damaged subconscious, projected on the screen she was forced to watch every night. Headphones had been added, white noise and soft whispers combined to let her know that this was a treatment that she enjoyed.

“Hey, I have an idea,” Steph said, smiling a cruel smile one morning. James listened to it and laughed.

After her exercises an evening later, Lara was brought to dine with us towards the back patio of her former home. We were safe from the rain, under a large umbrella that kept us dry. Lara shivered out in the rain, the drops beating on her flesh and making her shiver as she watched us. We ate in front of her, watching old interviews with her on a brand new projector that James and Steph had set up outside. It was fascinating to watch her trying to recognize the woman she had been, some dull flicker of comprehension tickling her conscious mind.

“You know who that is, Duchess?” James asked, cutting a fine piece of rare venison and placing it in his mouth, savoring it as Lara ate her dry oats. The criminal shook her head weakly, her eyes dull from the humilations that her crimes had brought her, and James smiled.

The lightning bolt struck him from his chair, pushing him past the patio and out into the fields behind the estate. Minutes passes and nobody moved, searing ozone and warring with the scent of burning flesh to fill out nostrils. I watched, the hair on my arms standing on end as James twitched, once, the blackening flesh going limp as steaming blood erupted from his corpse.

A small Asian woman walked towards us, her eyes crackling with the fury of a thousand storms. When she opened her mouth her breathing was like thunder, the fury that radiated off of her painting the world into shades that lacked all color.

Her voice echoed, rumbled across the whole of the estate, but her words were a whisper that could not be escaped.

“That's Lara Croft.”

*

One chapter left. Questions? Comments? There's a fairly decent conversation going on over at http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/36931-metroid-the-bergman-affair-feedback-comments-and-workshopping/page-12 and you're welcome to join it. Thanks for reading, hope you're liking it, and we should finish this off either tomorrow or early the next day.
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Reins of the Tomb Raider