THE
ORACLE’S TOLL
A
LARA CROFT and MELISSA GALLANT ADVENTURE
by The Third Thane
Thanks
to Melissa Gallant, collaborator on this story and inspiration for its main
character.
Thanks
also to L’espion for his help and editing.
This
story is based upon his work and characters.
If you like this story, you’ll LOVE his serials.
CHAPTER 4
Complications
Dust
settled around the stopped truck. The driver opened the hood, made
several adjustments, and then walked away in disgust. 8:30 am and the sun
was already blazing. She took a long drag from her canteen. As she raised
her head, her breasts pressed perfectly against her green shirt. A
stunning vision. This magnificent landscape was lustfully taken in from a
ridge roughly 1000 yards away, through the lenses of the Constable’s
binoculars. Two militia soldiers lay flat by his side, squabbling over
who would look through the second set of binoculars. “Silence, you
imbeciles. The wind is behind us. The woman may hear your jackass
braying!”
The Range Rover had died a merciful death well east of the small village of Da’
Ajule. The evening last, as the woman slept in the second floor of what
passed for an inn, Constable Evrham’s men had drained all but a few ounces of the
engine oil. The durable Rover started fine. The desert heat seized
the block somewhere between 30 and 3000 miles from town. The truck had
expired in a convenient shallow canyon, with cover for the Constable’s
soldiers. He refocused the glasses, watching the woman check the tire
tracks in the dirt. All were over a month old. “No hitchhiking
back,” she thought. The road was barren. A second flash of
reflected light glinted from the western ridge, reminding her that she was not
completely alone.
“Find the keys to these cuffs in his pocket, and then dump his body in one of
the empty offices.” The Samoan searched Harriman’s pants, tossing the
keys to his Boss. He then lifted Julian’s body as effortlessly as picking
up a tissue. Spruance busied himself. Expensive suit, tailor made
in Hong Kong, less refined and more practical than Harriman’s
Melissa had developed a keen scene of character, and worried about the
impression this guy gave off. He rummaged through two tool boxes on the
workbench. “Eitan is dim, but I don’t need the services of his
mind. You may recognize him, he was drafted by the Raiders several years
back. Received a lifetime ban from football for steroid use. Today,
I oversee his refined drug regiment. Ah, here we are.” He
pulled a long black zip-tie from the box. He approached Melissa, still
naked and chained to the rock face. She tensed. As he stepped
close, she took aim. She pulled herself up by the chain, and kicked both
feet at Spruance. He was ready, deftly grabbing her right ankle, and
spinning Melissa face toward the wall. He harshly pushed his shoulder
into the small of her back, pinning her against the stone. In a quick,
calculated movement, he bent her leg at the knee, and zip-tied her ankle viciously
tight to her thigh. Released, Melissa was forced to perch on one leg,
balanced by the chain holding her wrists. Two hops convinced her that she
could not mount an effective attack in this position. Spruance casually
gathered the chains that formerly held her ankles. Eitan returned from
his grisly chores. Spruance stood before her, holding the thick chain
taught between his hands. “No witty insults? Only have a sharp
tongue for that pampered fool?”
“I didn’t talk for Harriman, and I’m not answering your questions either.
You can...”
SWACK. Melissa could not recall being slapped harder across the
face. Her whole jaw rung with pain. Eitan had a second cocked and
ready. “I haven’t asked you any questions.” Spruance was eerily
calm. “You will know exactly when I want an answer to a question.”
“Is that how you get off, watching your dinosaur beat up...”
SWACK. The blow forced her off balance and into the rock. A line of
blood snuck down her lip.
“FUCK YOU, ASS...” Her turn to yell at Eitan was the opportunity Spruance
was waiting for. He pushed the heavy chain into her open mouth, far back
between her teeth. Eitan held her head, as his Boss pulled the chain
tight and locked it behind her head. She could feel the massive lock
pinching the back of her neck. The chain was so heavy that only three
links crossed her mouth. The metal tasted like a corroded penny.
The free end hung down to her feet. The slightly rusted chain served both
as a cruel gag and a humiliating leash.
“Eitan, get her down.” The giant’s arm wrapped around her torso, lifting
her into the air. With the arm other, he unlocked her wrists from the
eights. Her hands free, Melissa closed fisted punched the Samoan in the
ear. Then a second time. He showed no reaction. “Take her to
those pipes. Eitan dropped Melissa unceremoniously, picked up the end of
the chain, and drug her over the warehouse floor. With her right leg
still hobbled by the zip-tie, she could offer no resistance. The pain
through her mouth and cheeks from the pulled chain was intense. Eitan
never looked down as she was rubbed raw, dragged by the face toward a thick
pipe running from the concrete floor up to the ceiling.
The funnel of dust pointed to the precise location of the approaching police
jeep. It was visible for miles. The woman watched its approach from
the behind a small outcrop of rocks. The disabled truck, the clandestine
spying. The whiff of ambush hung thick. She slid two extra clips
into her belt for speedy reloading. The jeep pulled up next to her rented
Rover. Two soldiers exited, heavily armed. The Constable rolled
down the driver’s window. “Ello!” echoed in a thick Arab accent.
Everything looked proper. The spell was broken when a gently lobbed
grenade landed in the Rover, putting the truck out of its misery with an
impressive blast.
“It’s
not going to get better,” she thought. The woman rolled from cover,
dropping the first soldier with two shots. Evrham ducked below the door
as a shot sent his mirror skidding into the sand. The second
soldier was crouched behind the burning wreckage, spraying gunfire at
nothing. She had them pinned down. “Careful not to hit the radiator,”
she thought. “ I need that jeep after they’re dead.”
Evrham could hear the metallic thunck of heavy bullets hitting his official
police vehicle as he pulled a Soviet RPG rocket launcher from its case in the
back seat. “Fuck!” He knew he would have to pay for the damage
himself. In a flash, he sat up, and fired a brilliant fireball only
yards from his attacker. Quiet. The Constable and his trembling
sergeant approached the smoldering rocks. Both bent over the dropped
body. The woman was unconscious, still clutching two nickel
automatics. “She’s alive.” he stated as he slightly kicked her
side. He snapped a picture with his cell phone and placed a very long
distance call.
The
duo quickly tied Melissa to the solid pipe. She had to give them credit
for creativity, the bondage was unlike anything she had experienced
before. They had used raw hemp rope. Both her legs were frog-tied
and cinched, ankle to thigh. She was squatting against the pipe,
with her wrists tied and cinched tight behind the metal. More hemp was
tied and cinched around her body and the pipe, at the waist and just above her
bare breasts. She remained completely naked. The pair had finished
the bondage with a rope tied around each knee that ran behind the pipe. This
single rope viciously pulled her legs apart, exposing her perfectly shaved
pussy. They had not removed the thick chain gag. Its weight pulled
at her injured mouth and drool freely flowed down her chest. Spruance
stood in front as Eitan yanked the knots behind her.
“Lovely,
lovely breasts. Truly breathtaking. I can see why ‘Julie’ hatched
his little scheme.” Spruance pulled open the end of a light packing
crate, tossing the wood aside and causing fine straw to fall to the
floor. Peaking from the straw was a chipped oriental bowl. He
jerked a plastic square off the bowl. “Do you know what this
is?” Melissa refused to look, and Spruance pulled the chain hard.
He held a plastic tag, the same size as a credit card only thicker. Her
luggage had similar tags so she could make out her Samsonite at the
airport. It hung from a fine stainless steel ring. He dangled the
tag like keys. “It’s an artifact identifier, this whole place is lousy
with them. You see, whenever some worthless piece of shit comes into this
museum, some nobody in a lab coat fills out one of these. He decides if
the piece of shit is worth anything, and writes his thoughts right here, on the
tag. He then attaches it, PERMANENTLY.” He bowed down and looked
Melissa in the eyes, plastic swaying. “Let’s see what your tag will
say.”
Eitan
brought over one of the tool boxes and sat it next to Spruance. Melissa
tensed as he took her right breast in his hand. To her surprise, he was
gentle, caressing and leaning in for a long kiss. His mouth gingerly
sucked her nipple, flicking his tongue until she became hard. His sucking
lasted several minutes, he was clearly enjoying both her nipple and her
palpable disgust. He drew back his lips, and continued to ply her nipple
with his fingers while Eitan handed him a metal rod. He stopped, and to
Melissa’s horror, he picked up a butane torch. Her eyes widened as he lit
the torch and methodically heated the end of the metal sliver until it glowed
red. Melissa struggled in vain to free her wrists, her body pulling
against the hemp. Spruance gently took her attentive nipple in his
fingers, and pinched hard. Melissa bit into the metal chain. He let
the glowing metal linger in front of her face. She wanted to close her eyes,
but fear and dread kept her gaze. Spruance smirked as he
pushed the sharp end of the searing metal into the side of the girl’s nipple.
Melissa screamed through the rust and steel, thrashing in her ropes.
Desperation overtook control. The pain was primal. He savored
her tears as he pushed ever so slowly, twisting the metal. Her nipple
became white as the metal bulged the skin, then poked forth on the other
side. The bastard rolled the metal between his fingers, insuring its
burned path was clear. Her chest was heaving as her body tried to adjust
to the pain, the sharp evil pain. With a quick flick, he pulled the metal
though and out the far side. Melissa cried openly through her chain gag
as Spruance gathered up the plastic tag. Using little care this time, he
threaded the metal ring through her savaged nipple. The stainless steel
ring shot a new burst of pain through her chest, a renewed scream rang
out. The orange tag hung like a satanic xmas ornament from her breast.
“Now,
now is the time to answer my first question.” He cut his eyes and Eitan
unlocked the metal chain gagging her throat. “You’ll get only a few
chances to please me, so chose your words carefully Miss Gallant. Where
is Lara Croft?”
She
cried thick, laden sobs. “I don’t know, she didn’t...”
Another
look and Eitan slapped a piece of tape across her face gagging her mouth, then
added a second and third. Spruance squatted down, and pulled a Sharpie
marker from his coat pocket. He lifted the tag and pulled at her
breast. Melissa moaned from pain. “Worthless,” he said out loud as
he wrote on the tag. Snapping his fingers, Eitan handed him back the
metal sliver. Using the first tag to pull close, he kissed and sucked at
her right breast. Melissa tried to concentrate, tried to channel Lara’s
strength, tried to will her nipple down. He was too talented. A
small bite, and a prolonged passionate kiss left her left nipple at
attention. The metal was still gray where it had been heated. The
flame again caused the end to glow red hot. Melissa pleaded, cried out,
called Spruance’s name through the tape. Anything to halt the pain.
She would tell him about the map, but not everything. “Oh, I understand
perfectly. You want to tell me something. You’ll have another
chance to answer... later.”
The
red metal touched her nipple. It was as if she were dipped in acid.
She shook her head wildly. “My God, I won’t make it.” A wish for
death brushed quickly through her mind. Again, the prick pushed the
sliver through slowly, twisting as he forced. The sharpened point
struggling, her skin stretched, and the metal and popping through.
Melissa nearly passed out. Her breast was numb with ache. She
barely felt the second plastic tag threaded into place. He pulled off her
tape gag.
“Once
more, where is Croft?”
Melissa
hung her head, ashamed to look her captor in the eyes. The pain had
beaten her. “She showed me, showed me a map. It was
old.” Her voice was a low whisper.
“You
see, we are making progress.” He lifted the tag on her left breast and wrote as
he spoke, “Questionable Value.” He let the tag drop back to
hanging. “This map, where was it from?”
“I
didn’t recognize the area, it was too faded. Maybe Mexico?”
“I
see. Eitan, grab that rope.” The giant pulled a rope around her
neck violently pulling her head against the pipe. Melissa instantly
gasped for air, her windpipe closed. “You pretty mouth is spouting
nonsense again. Let’s see if we can put it to better use.” Spruance
unbuttoned and dropped his pants. His penis was large, excited by
the bondage and torture.
“If
she makes one wrong nibble, shear her head off!”
“Right,”
Eitan bellowed from behind the pipe. He loosened the rope, and Melissa
gulped and coughed for air. Without hesitation, Spruance forced his dick
into her open mouth. Eitan snugged the rope tighter and Spruance rammed
his member down the back of her throat.
“Do
try to enjoy yourself, Miss Gallant.” Eitan pulled the rope taut,
reminding her to play nice. She sucked and licked his cock as it slid
deep in her mouth. The rope cut into the skin of her neck. He
continued his assault, her mouth aching from the slaps and the chain gag.
Warm tears melted down her cheeks. She did know what she was doing, and
Spruance groaned. Again and again he pushed against her face. Over
and over, her perfect lips rode down his shaft. He came, long and hard,
firing his load right into her gullet. He quickly wiped his
dick on a greasy rag, and then pushed it into her choking mouth. Tape
held the wretched cloth in place, giving her no choice but to swallow all of
his seed. He panted.
“Now,
let’s see if removing those tags assists your memory. Spruance pulled out
a butterfly knife after adjusting his pants. He touched the knife to her
breast, when a third man appeared at the steel door.
“Mr.
Spruance. Mr. Spruance. Sorry to bother you sir, but you said you
wanted us to tell you if a call came through.” The small man handed his
Boss a cell phone and scurried off. Spruance ran his hands through his
hair, and flipped the phone open. He cut an odd image, expensive phone in
one hand and the street gang weapon in the other.
“Spruance
here.”
“Yes.”
“75”
“Then
it would be double.”
“No.”
“I
just said, no.”
“Very
well.”
“Don’t
fuck this up.”
The
phone and the knife both snapped shut. He leaned down, and spoke directly
at her gagged face. “Turkey.” He stood up and walked toward the
door. “You friend Croft is in Turkey. All this loyalty and pain was
wasted. She is my prisoner, and you,” he turned and looked back at
the bound woman.
“You
have outlived your value. Eitan, roll some of those barrels in from
behind the building.”
The
Samoan hefted five 55 gallon barrels into the warehouse, positioning them 10
feet in front of Melissa. Two read Shell Gasoline. “I told that
little fool I would get rid of all his trinkets and shit.” He sat a small
green box on top of the closest barrel. Melissa didn’t need to wonder its
purpose. Spruance pushed several buttons, and a digital read-out lit,
“15:00”.
“Thanks
for the blowjob.” He hit a final button, and both walked out of the
warehouse.
14:34.
Little
by little, consciousness returned. Lara became aware again, aware of her
predicament. Her head hurt, a lot. Likely a concussion from
whatever rocket those guys launched. That headache would last for several
days. The abrupt bouncing of the vehicle down an unpaved road wasn’t
helping matters. She guessed it was the police jeep she had peppered with
bullets. If she could see, she would have known her suspicions were
off. She was riding in the back of dated Russian military truck.
Her wrists were handcuffed behind her back, her ankles cuffed as well.
Lara recognized the cuffs by feel. “Hiatt standard hinged, military
issue,” she thought to herself. “I might be able to pick them,
if...” The “if” was that the bastard who tied her up knew his
business. He had removed her leather shoelaces and tightly lashed her
thumbs together, nearly cutting off circulation. Lara felt the other lace
tied around her exposed big toes. “Can’t use my hands to open the locks,
even if I could see.” A piece of her shirt had been ripped off, and tied
as a gag. Finally, the captors had pulled a thick oily bag over her head,
tied snug around her neck. Lara felt the cloth flutter in and out with
each breath. She had only been awake for moments, and already her faced
was glazed with sweat. She tried to maneuver her hands to find advantage,
but the leather around her thumbs was too tight. Keep still, don’t let
anybody know you’re awake yet.” He thoughts swirled. However, a faint but
distinct metallic click from the cab of the truck caused her head to
automatically snap a turn. A bullet was forced into the chamber.
“Dead man!” she growled into her gag.. Someone was roughly cocking one of
her guns. “Nobody fucks with my girls,” she swore to herself.
The truck plowed onward through the Turkish night.
Melissa
eyes bore into the readout.
12:20
She
heard Spruance and his men drive off. She pulled hard and attempted to
turn her wrists. It was no use. The effort caused her to bite down
on the revolting cloth taped in her mouth. Some vile mixture of cum and
grease slid down her throat, causing her to retch. “Easy, girl.
That’s nasty, but I can’t worry about it now.” Her knees throbbed from
the tight rope. As she struggled, the two plastic tags danced on her breasts,
mocking her. “Worthless....Questionable Value.”
9:51
Still
time to figure things out. “Gotta think. What would Lara do??” She
had no idea that her mentor was wrestling with that same question at the
moment.
7:42
Time
was running too fast. The table held all the tools, surely something that
could cut her free. She had tried to inhale while the two tied her, tried
to save some slack. Spruance knew the trick too well. The pipe was
thick as a small tree and gave no hint of movement. She began rubbing the
ropes against the old paint. She made no progress. Contorting her
body only taught the painful tags a new dance. “Christ, they hurt!”
6:11
“Time
to get serious.” Flexing her legs brought a tiny bit of slack.
“Maybe if I could...” Her hands were well above the floor, far from any
assistance. Her fingers frantically probed for knots. She thought
she felt one, but it as buried between her cinched wrists. “Must
try.” She picked furiously, no end came free. She hands were still
slightly numb from the wand and the poor blood flow.
4:37
Screaming,
that might help. She yelled with all her lungs, but the rag and tape
proved vigilant guards to her calls. No one knew she was here
anyway. She became hoarse for calling, but knew that the muffled cries
couldn’t carry.
2:08
“Not
yet, not giving up”. Rocking released slightly more pressure. Maybe
she could get the knots. “Maybe, come on.” Renewed picking loosened
the knot a little. “Find an end, find an end!”
1:45
“A scream of pure
frustration barked forth, almost heard outside. The knot refused to
budge. The slack she found was worthless. “Just like that FUCKING
TAG.” She wilted.
1:02
Resigned to death’s
peaceful blanket, anger and humiliation were her final thoughts. Her body
would be found with those damn tags. “ ’Worthless...Questionable
Value’. Bet they’re the headlines tomorrow,” she thought looking down at
her “IDENTIFICATION”. Raw pain.
0:53
"Wonder if a blast
this close hurts. Likely it’s an over in a blink.”
0:41
Melissa calmed her
breathing, readied for the shock.
0:22
The toolbox crashed to
the floor as Harriman stumbled like a drunk and fell across the concrete.
He coughed violently. Their eyes met and flashed lightning.
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