Bondage Adventures of Lara Cross · Part 1 (1/2)
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As artifact hunters went, Lara Cross was not what one would call your physically and mentally 'typical,' self-educated soldier of fortune. Stunning good looks and gorgeously put together dimensions camouflaged well her high IQ and quick-witted thinking in a way that almost always cause antagonists and friendlies alike to stand in awe of her assertive qualities and deliberately constructed persona.
Everything she chose to wear, both socially and professionally, was tight fitting, which only made matters worse, where jealous women and gawking males were concerned. But that is precisely the effect Lara sought to project when dealing with anyone who crossed her path. Not that she was a tease or high-end slut on the prowl. She just loved and hated being a woman in a male dominated world, and did whatever it took to level the playing field of that double standard in a way that often gave her a marginally unfair, but very necessary advantage.
It was a cooler-than-usual night in Cairo. Lara had managed to gain illegal access to a warehouse on the outskirts of town, where she had learned, from dubious sources, that several items of extremely valuable Egyptian jewelry, dating back to a long lost dynasty, had been stashed for safe keeping. What brought Lara to the warehouse was the fact that not more than a month earlier, the precious items were in her possession. She'd spent almost a year tracking down and digging them out of a tomb, the location of which was known only to her and a trusted associate.
"Where could they be?" wondered Lara Cross as she carefully and silently navigated the wide aisles of the warehouse in her black, skin tight, spandex jump suit, blinking a tiny flashlight on and off whenever her instincts suggested she read the fine print on some of the newer looking crates.
It was logical to assume the dust covered ones were not recent arrivals.
"What have we here?" she whispered to herself when Lara's intuition focused on a small but curiously colored box nestled in an out-of-the-way corner of a dimly lit section.
She immediately holstered the flashlight and pulled a small crowbar from the other side of her utility belt. While she worked to pry open the box, her instincts again intruded, causing the seasoned pro to wonder why her psychic hackles had been raised above normal.
"Hmm, must be a night watchman," she figured while super carefully sitting on the floor and listening for an audio indicator or two.
A few minutes passed before she stood and thought it safe enough to continue the adrenaline-rushing business of opening the box, which sat atop a crate that put it waist high, but didn't look like any of the others in the warehouse. 'Interesting.' It, too, was dust free, as was the crate under it.
When the top finally came off, Lara lowered herself and it to the floor, replacing the crowbar into its belt holster as she reached again for the flashlight. A layer of packing straw rested on what she hoped would be the Egyptian jewelry she'd worked so long and aggressively to unearth.
A tiny smile of satisfaction blessed the PhD's beautiful features as her eyes lit up at the sight of what was under the straw.
But before Lara could reach for it, a hair-thin beam of intense, red light crossed her vision field, tipping off to the unmistakable fact that someone obviously had Lara in his or her site.
"Good evening, Ms. Cross," spoke a gentlemanly sounding voice from behind the tomb raider's back. "Find what you're looking for?"
His arch enemy said and did nothing, but kept her senses finely tuned to the moment, hoping to develop some kind of escape scenario that would put her out of harm's way as quickly and safely as possible.
"And if I have?" she dared.
"Then that makes two of us," said the man whose voice Lara was beginning to recognize. "How sloppy of you to not notice the weight-sensitive mechanism in the crate under the box."
"Shit," thought Cross before the beam of red light rose from her chest to the center of her forehead.
A glance to the right and left revealed that the crates were stacked higher on the other side of the aisle, making hers a safer bet. Since Lara was in a crouching posture, a spring-loaded tactic seemed to be the best avenue of escape to pursue.
But before the final details could be worked out in Lara's head, a voice behind her said, "I wouldn't do anything foolish if I were you."
She did it anyway by again trusting her instincts and launching herself up and over the crate atop which the jewelry box had been perched.
Since no shots were fired, it was also safe to figure the competition was hoping to take her alive. This, plus their obvious reasons for doing so, flashed through Lara's thinking as she jumped from crate to crate toward the window she'd forced open to enter the warehouse, hoping to dive through it, and to freedom. But the closer she got to the aisle between the stacks and the window, the lower the crates got, making a successful leap a near impossible feat.
Undaunted, Lara unhooked and let go of her utility belt, took a deep breath, and went for it, flying from point A to point B in one, last, desperate effort to escape.
"Uhuh!"
Unfortunately, four strong arms, grabbing and wrestling her to the ground, rudely and roughly interrupted the arc of her reckless traverse. Their underestimation of Lara's strength quickly required a third and fourth protagonist to enter into the fray.
"Give it up, Cross," suggested the gentlemanly sounding voice Lara now recognized, giving her the perfect reason to fight like a wildcat, rather than succumb to the likes of a man whose reputation clearly placed him atop her avoid-at-all-cost, shit list.
"Bring her to me," ordered the man with the silvery tones.
A bloody nose and several hard kicks and punches to the groin did little to stop Lara's abductors from standing and dragging her to the self-satisfied smile on the face of the thief in charge.
"High heeled boots do have their disadvantages," quipped Lara's worst enemy.
She glared back at him, kicking and struggling wildly as she emptied her hatred into the perilous situation. "I swear, before I die, the point of one of those boots will be rudely and maliciously kicked up your bastard ass."
The man's smile quickly turned to determined dissatisfaction. "Let's cut to the chase. You have what I want. Are you going to give it to me, or do we have to get nasty?"
"Turn around and bend over," retorted Lara Cross before launching herself into one more fruitless escape attempt.
"Bind her," ordered her fiercest competition.
The sound of his order bounced around Lara's thinking for all of a split second before a jolt of surprising, sensual energy impacted her favorite erogenous zone. A second later, one of the thugs proceeded to bind her ankles together, inspiring a second, more arousing jolt of unexpected response.
"Woah," commented Lara to herself.
No one had ever bound her before; though a bondage fantasy or ten had invaded Lara's thinking enough times to plant the seed of erotic curiosity into the virgin soil of her, as of late, somewhat undernourished sex life.
She instinctively fought to avoid the imprisoning of her lower legs, only to double the sexually pleasurable consequences her actions were now co-controlling.
"Wow, this is weird."
"Bind her well, and don't worry about cutting off her circulation."
spat the boss. "I'm gonna get back to her lap top." (They had ransacked
Lara's hotel room not more than a half hour earlier.)
While her elbows were tied together with several tight turns of thick rope, she watched Wellington Trent slowly turn and leave.
"Son of a bitch."
Meanwhile, the fire between her legs intensified with betraying moisture, while she fought the inevitable and felt the harsh pressure of a strange smelling wad of cloth against her lower face.
"This should make things less strenuous," said one of the thugs just before the tomb raider passed out.
40 Minutes Later
The first thing Lara noticed as she woke from her chloroform-induced, unconsciousness was a dank, musty odor, suggestive of an atmosphere not unlike that of a not-often-frequented enclosure. The second realization came in the form of an intense elongation of her lower face, created by what felt like a mouthful of highly compressed stuffing of some sort. It was held in place by several cruelly applied turns of duct tape.
As her head cleared, Lara become intimate with her bound and gagged circumstance. Thick, rough ropes welded her arms and wrists together behind her back. Several more turns bound them to her torso, above and below her billowing breasts, and at the waist as well. The zipper on the front of her jump suit had been pulled down to the crotch. Since she wore no underwear, the effect made for some very provocative eye candy, and, since she hadn't been killed yet, suggested Lara's keepers were as interested in her formidably feminine attributes as they were in other treasures she might have found and hidden elsewhere on the planet.
They left her sitting on a two-foot-high shelf in a closet. Vertical shelves, to her right and left, had kept the stunning damsel from falling over. Lara's legs, also, were tightly cinched together at the ankles, upper calves and lower thighs with more thick rope and several, well-tied, out-of-reach knots.
The gag was particularly nasty. She could neither open nor close her mouth any further than its hard-pressed stuffing was designed to disallow.
"Good God," thought Cross as she squinted to catch a glimpse of light, people, whatever through the closet door slats in front of her. "Those guys went NUTS with these ropes."
A slight numbing sensation had already begun to creep into her thumbs.
"Only a matter of time before I lose the use of all ten of them."
The more Lara tested her bondage, the more turned on she got; the more she was convinced there was little time to waste. Her first autonomic response was to Karate kick the door open. Its slats gave way easily, falling apart until the lock had no frame to hold onto. She stood and threw her body against what was left of the door, losing her balance as she went crashing through it and onto the floor of the room on the other side.
"Muh!"
When she looked up to get her bearings, another door opened in front of Lara's gaping eyes. A glaring light and the outline of a tall, strong figure suddenly filled the tomb finder's visual perspective. It was Paula
Trace, the operative who'd been assigned to keep Cross out of trouble until a decision had been made about what to do with the annoyingly well informed, but uncooperative damsel.
"So you wanna play, do you," said Trace while Lara squinted and tried to follow her keeper's agenda, which now moved to a chest in a far corner of the tiny room. "Well, we'll just see about that."
Before Lara's eyes could adjust to the sudden change in room illumination, Paula hog-tied her tightly, forcing the wrist cinch as close to her bound ankles as the leg ropes would allow. Several, unreachable knots assured the well endowed artifact hunter's improved immobility would keep her on the floor, and totally helpless, for as long as was necessary.
"That should prevent you from making anymore trouble for a while," assured
Paula as she reached for another length of rope, rolled her captive onto her side, and tied one end to the waist circles with three tight knots in front. The other end was threaded between Lara's upper thighs, over and under the hog-tie line, and back between her legs. It was pulled out and threaded under the front of the waist ropes before every last inch of slack was lost and secured there with another three tight knots.
The pressure on Lara's crotch sent a sudden jolt of sensual energy racing through every erogenous zone in her bound and bothered body.
"Good grief," she realized, "I hope this bitch isn't trying to turn me on, 'cause if she is, she's doing a damn fine job of it."
The sound of a cell phone ringing sent Paula into the other room. "Yes?…
Really?… Then what am I supposed to do with HER?… You're sure?… Right."
Lara watched as her binder walked back into the room. "No, I don't mind."
She gave Lara a curious smile. "I don't mind at all."
Paula broke the connection and punched in a number. "Hi. What are you doing?… Good. I have a deal for you, to repay that favor I owe you. Are you game?… Good. Meet me at Bishop's Cafe in ten."
Paula closed the cellular and crouched down in front of Lara's sweating face. "You've got about half an hour to get out of that. If you can't, a very kinky friend of mine is going to take full advantage of your predicament before he auctions you off to a Middle Eastern oil Sheik, or someone less scrupulous. It's been fun." With that, Paula turned and said, before leaving the room and slamming its door behind her, "Unless, of course, you have a mind to tell us what you know about the rest of the Egyptian treasure."
Lara took a deep breath and felt every turn of rope tighten as she thought, "Something tells me I'm going to live to seriously regret leaving my guns at the hotel room." Several minutes of tenacious escape attempting made it abundantly clear that Lara was in deep trouble. As hard as she tried, not one cinch would give.
"Mmmmuhuhuh!" she screamed, hoping to catch the attention of anyone within earshot. But her frantic vocalizing was well muffled by the gag, and there was no way to dislodge it from her gaping mouth. It was then that something acutely unexpected happened, something beyond Lara's realm of experience, something so pleasurably and erotically intense it caused her to lose what little control she had left to the overwhelming reality of the longest, most outrageous, solo orgasm of her thus far life.
"MMMMMUHUHUHUH!"
Forty-five minutes, and three ground-breaking climaxes later, Lara heard the front door slam and Paula say, "Get your ass over by that door." Several minutes of scuffling and protesting, muffled verbiage ensued, after which the door to the room opened and Lara's keeper strutted in. Behind her, on the floor of the other room, lay another damsel. She was bound and gagged exactly as her newfound co-captive. "Lara Cross, meet Gwenn Dolan.&q
Bondage Adventures of Lara Cross · Part 1 (1/2)
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