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.