0 comments/ 7103 views/ 12 favorites Lara Croft: Church & Steeple By: justtheone EDIT June 2015 [ While back, somebody sent me a link to a poser comic (not Detomasso, some other chap) in the hope it would fire me up to write another Lara fanfic. This is the eventual result, though it retains only a tenuous connection to that comic. That particular artist's version of Lara didn't much appeal to my taste, and I didn't like the creature in the comic at all. It was kind of a shriveled pasty bald goblin type thing. Didn't ring my bell. Too disgusting for me, personally, seeing a thing a like that have its way with our girl. Yeah, I get that the grossness factor is largely the point, and I like taboo-breaking Beauty-and-Da-Beast scenarios a whole lot, only I need the beasts in them to be somewhat good-looking still, in their own beastly fashion. One's mileage varies as to how that's defined. I don't like seeing shriveled little goblin putzes scoring with gorgeous fairy princesses, like you find all over the internet (but orcs or trolls or minotaurs or werewolves sometimes do it for me, depending on their build and their faces). Lara succumbing to the slime-dripping mandibles of a giant centipede ... there again, my reaction is: uh, um, gee, no thanks. That's over the line for me. Sure, I can understand intellectually why that sort of stuff might appeal to others, for various reasons. Yet given the choice, I prefer hunky, more or less handsome monsters, even if they've got horns or tails and fangs and so forth. Impressive, formidable, awe-inspiring, seductive kinds of creatures, no matter how scary, smelly and violent they still are. Like pro athletes, basically. (*Rimshot) Monsters in fantasies like this are mythic exaggerations of masculine attributes and appetites. Our own darkest natures embodied. Granted, the more outright hideous and disgusting monsters serve that same exact symbolic purpose, and it might be argued they do so more accurately and honestly. But when it's my party, only the genuinely sexy stud monsters get through the fucking door. ] 1. Lara was dreaming. And she knew it. The recognition didn't give her control over the dream, though—she'd never been able to do that. Nor could she make herself wake up and simply put it to an end, when it started to turn ugly on her. Unfortunate. Savages had put her into a pit ... That part had really happened, just a few weeks ago. She was reliving an actual event ... They had taken her weapons from her, and her boots too, so she was barefoot. They'd given her a large yellow jaguar's tooth in exchange. They considered that fair—because it was a jaguar she would have to fight, in that pit. It had been entirely the wrong part of the world for jaguars. And their specimen had been much bigger than she thought jaguars could get. Maybe it wasn't really a jaguar, but some weirder, rarer species. Or some sort of mongrel. Whatever the damn thing was, she had to fight it, armed only with one of its teeth, as a crude knife. Well, not one of that cat's, specifically. That cat had his full set. The tooth she had was taken from another one. Anyway, she'd won. She'd killed the damn thing before it could kill her. She stabbed it through the throat. Felt ghastly about it, afterwards. Still did. Wretched creature didn't deserve to die like that. She tried to tell herself she'd done it a favor, liberating it from captivity, because of course they'd starved and beaten the thing to make it crazy and a killer. She wished she could have freed it properly. She wished she could have set it loose on those awful vile men. She didn't want to have to kill the cat again, in the damn dream. She was dreading it. She wanted to wake up, and she kept trying to wake up, but she couldn't. Then in the dream, it happened different. It was the same pit, but there wasn't the same jaguar waiting for her in the bottom of it. Instead this time she found she was supposed to fight a man. And it was a man she knew. A man she'd been trying to find, for months and months, so she could kill him. But in real waking life, she'd never been able to track the fucker down. She didn't know his name or his nationality. He was just a sleazy shithead mercenary that happened to get the better of her one time, and made quite a bit of sport with her, with some buddies of his. She'd taken care of all the rest of them. He was the only one of the bunch she still needed to pay back. Now here he was, at last. Waiting for her in that filthy pit, in that dream. She would have to fight him instead of the jaguar. He was just a man, and she could see he was unarmed. And he was totally naked. Still, even so, she was scared of him, when she saw him. When he smiled at her. She was much more scared of him than she'd been of the jaguar, in real life. She knew this was only a dream. Only a shitty nightmare. Yet knowing that didn't help at all. It didn't make her any less scared. Instead she only got more scared of what was about to happen. She felt nauseous and weak. She should have been happy, though. This was her chance to kill the guy, like she wanted. She hadn't got to do it in real life, not yet. Now she would get to do it in her dream. Wish fulfillment. She would kill him the same way she had killed the jaguar. It would be easy. If she could kill an oversized jaguar in real life, she would surely be able to kill an unarmed, naked man—she would stab the tooth through his throat the same exact way. And it would feel real good, wouldn't it? It would be beautiful. This hadn't turned into a nightmare, after all—that was the wrong way to look at it. She should take pleasure in this fantasy, while it lasted ... And maybe that was the reason she couldn't wake up—her mind wasn't letting her, because in her subconscious, she wanted to see this through. Sounded good, didn't it? Only then it all went wrong ... Just as she originally expected, when the man popped up where he wasn't supposed to be, the rest of the dream turned nasty. The man was too strong for her, and too fast. Like he had superpowers. He snatched the jaguar tooth away from her hand in seconds. Then, laughing, he used it on her—but not to kill her, nor to wound. He just used it to hack away all her clothing, and she couldn't stop him. She couldn't get away. She could barely put up a struggle—her limbs had turned heavy and sluggish. 'Cause it was that kind of dream. He didn't need to tie her up with anything to keep control of her. And she couldn't stop looking at his enormous erection. It made her cringe and shiver. She wept in absolute despair as she was stripped. She pleaded with him for mercy like a child. She would never have done that in real life, no matter what he did to her. When she was naked, he forced her down on the dirt on her hands and knees, and mounted her from behind like an animal. All the savages watching above around the top rim of the pit, they brandished their spears and torches, and roared their approval as she was fucked, and as she screamed. Worst part was, 'cause it was that kind of dream, it felt good when he took her. It felt perfect. Both the fucking itself, and the humiliation. It felt like she deserved all this—having it done to her by that particular man in front of all those horrible spectators. And like she'd secretly wanted it to happen. She didn't have an orgasm in the dream, but only because, thankfully, she woke up before it could claim her. She had felt it kindling inside her—and it was that stirring sparking sensation that jolted her back to consciousness, gasping in her bed, heart hammering, but alone and home and safe. She'd kicked off all her sheets, and she was drenched in sweat. She hadn't been wearing any nightclothes; the mattress beneath her was soaked and steaming too, and not solely with perspiration. It had been no ordinary nightmare. Too vivid. Too coherent, as well. Too damn specific. And the things she'd thought and felt—they hadn't been natural. Those were thoughts and feelings she would never have. Even her strangest, craziest dreams were never that strange and crazy, and plain perverse. It had been somebody else inside her head, playing with her memories and her fears like a puppeteer. It had been a psychic attack. And she knew who—or rather what—must be responsible. She heard laughter, downstairs. So strange to hear Church's voice, sounding like that. So completely unlike himself. So utterly evil. But it wasn't really Jeremiah Church. Just the loathsome thing stuck inside of him. 2. Lara put on a robe and marched down there to confront the damned thing. Knew it wasn't a great idea, not all by herself. Not after finding out it could get inside her head like it just did. She also knew there was no way she was getting back to sleep that night if she couldn't settle him down. What else she could do, to try to pass the time 'til daybreak? Work out? Read a book? No. Wouldn't be able to concentrate. Not on anything else but this. No sense delaying. She'd just have to shoot him again. That was all. Not good at all for Church's system, but that couldn't be helped. He—it, rather—stood in its cage in the furthest, darkest corner of the wine cellar. Not much actual wine left in the place. Lots and lots of empty racks, filthy with cobwebs. She never got around to replenishing the stock. Kept meaning to, and yeah, felt a tad guilty about it from time to time. Seemed like a familial responsibility, part of the general upkeep of the estate. Always put it off because of better things to burn her money on, a million grander and more important projects. She was hardly ever home, anyway, most of the year, and when she was, didn't mean she was going to host dinners or throw parties. When she was in the mood for that sort of thing, the very few occasions that occurred, she just went to somebody else's. Simple as that. This cellar wasn't much of a dungeon, as dungeons go. Serviceable enough, in a pinch, but no more than that. She actually had a few substantially more secure places in different parts of the mansion that they could have used. Secret hideaways, quite cleverly disguised and heavily fortified. Lara chose not to have the creature put into any of those other special rooms because for one, physical barriers were almost entirely irrelevant to it—the metallic cage itself wasn't really what was keeping the thing imprisoned down here, nor the surrounding stone walls, no matter how thick they were, nor the bolted door at the top of the winding stairs—it was the invisible enchantment that Abigale Steeple had cast on this place that did the real work, holding the creature anchored to the spot where he stood. Secondly, there was the fact Lara kept a great many other interesting objects which she valued very highly in her strong-rooms—obviously that was what those rooms had been designed for in the first place—and she didn't want this creature near any of those items, or even knowing about them, if she could help it. And the same was equally true of the man the creature was currently possessing, and of his partner Abigale. Regardless of the fact the pair of them were Lara's friends and allies, neither needed to be privy to all her secrets. Jeremiah Church and Abigale Steeple were paranormal investigators. If somebody turned their adventures into a movie or a TV series, picture Idris Elba and Amanda Seyfried in the roles, perhaps. Yesterday Lara Croft had been assisting them in the investigation of a ruined castle in Italy. They had uncovered a secret stairway, which led them down to a mad science lab in caves beneath the fortress. Its equipment, all coated in dust and cobwebs, looked straight out of a Frankenstein movie; it had tattered Nazi tapestries on the walls. There had been a dozen large glass tanks or vats, full of milky green fluid, with hulking human bodies floating inside. The liquid didn't let you see them in detail. When Abigale had rather cheekily rapped on the glass with her knuckles, the bodies started to move. Before very long, they smashed their way out of the tanks. They were nineteen-thirties versions of cyborgs. Looked a little clunky and dorky, by today's standards, but that didn't make the lumbering brutes any less lethal. Things had got hair-raising for a spell, but finally Lara and the others were able to slay all the monsters. They didn't out to be the real problem. It was another large machine, in the next chamber. Church speculated that it was what the Nazi scientists were using to animate the monsters they'd just fought. He said it was a device for sucking spirit-entities out of another dimension, to then somehow get implanted into mechanically-enhanced corpses. Lara asked how you controlled them afterward; Church laughed and answered that the Nazis seemed to have got stumped by that same question. But he got too close to the machine, fiddling with its controls like a reckless schoolboy. It zapped him. Now Church was possessed by another of those "spirit-entities". And Abigale was still trying to figure out how to get it out of him. Standard exorcism rituals wouldn't do the job, she said. "That stuff never works any good," she'd confided, "Bunch of useless hooey, all of it." She intended to take a primarily technological approach to the problem, matching the manner of his possession. Tomorrow afternoon she would be returning to Croft Manor with new equipment to make the attempt. Lara had spoken with her by phone a few hours previously, before she'd gone to bed. Abigale was having trouble assembling everything she needed. The mechanical details were mostly over Lara's head; it seemed to have come down to obtaining certain rare chemicals. Abigale was having to fly back and forth across the county to get her hands on them. Lara was footing all the bills; nice to be rich and not have to let that side of things cause headaches. Standing in the cage, Church looked taller than normal, somehow. He was a big broad-shouldered man to begin with. The spirit—the demon, we may as well call it—had added to his bulk. Unless it was only an illusion. He wore no clothes; he'd torn them all off. All his hair had turned white and it was standing up, and moving around too, wiggling like tentacles. His eyes had also changed color—they were golden now. They did not glow, but it felt like they did if you let yourself look at them too long. He was masturbating, when Lara walked up to the cage. This wasn't shocking; he'd been at that nonstop since the possession. He wasn't tugging it with much force, just gently, idly stroking himself. Almost like he was thinking of other deeper things and didn't realize what his hand was up to down there. He'd put a solemn, philosophical expression on his face. "Trouble sleeping?" he asked, "Would you like some company? Why not let me out of here? There's no need to be afraid. I promise I've no wish to hurt you. None in the world." The trank gun was already set to go, waiting on top of a stool. She picked it up and cocked it. "I warned you, remember. I told you what I'd have to do if you misbehaved." "That won't work on me anymore. I've adapted." "You sure about that? Let's see." She fired through the bars off the cage, planting the dart dead center in his torso. He staggered a little, but didn't drop. Shit. "Told you," he said, and shrugged. Lara reached for another dart. Dangerous to pump another large dose into Church's body, but she was going to have to risk it. The darts were lined up in a case on the stool right next to where the gun had been lying. But her hand couldn't find it. She glanced over and the entire stool seemed to have disappeared. Now it was like she was no longer standing in a gloomy wine cellar. The surroundings had transformed to a bright green jungle. Blazing hot sun, a cacophony of birds and insects ... Quite a convincing presentation. She tried closing her eyes and shaking her head—that didn't break the spell. In fact, though she couldn't see anything, it strengthened the tactile parts of the illusion. The feel of the sun and humidity against her face. The feel of dirt and twigs and leaf-litter under her bare feet, rather than the gritty stone flags of the cellar that she knew were supposed to be there. She started to sweat profusely under her dressing gown. Trickles streamed down across her ribs from her armpits, and the robe clung to her ass, making it itch. She opened her eyes. Church was still right there in front of her, and the cage containing him. But otherwise, it was like they were both outdoors in the middle of a wilderness, and it was daytime, no longer the middle of the night. Checking behind her, she couldn't see the stairs to take her away from this place. She knew they had to be there—but she wasn't able to find them. When she jogged over to where she calculated they should be, waving her arms around, she couldn't find the rail or the edges of the steps. Perhaps she was putting her hands right on top of them, but he was preventing her from realizing. Shit. This was not good at all. He really had adapted, and his powers had increased. "Stop this game," she said. "No," was his answer, "Why should I?" "I'll leave you alone, no more darts. Just let me see the steps and I'll go." "I don't want you to go, Lara. I want you to take off that dressing gown." "No way." "If you take off the dressing gown, I'll let you see the stairway. But you have to come closer first. Let me get a good look at you." "I'm not going to take off my robe. Forget it." He shrugged. "Suit yourself." Suddenly there were growls from the surrounding undergrowth, and the rustling and crackling of large creatures shoving their way through the vegetation to reach her ... She put her hands over her face. "This isn't real," she told herself, "None of this is actually happening to you. Get a grip. He can't hurt you, Lara. He can't touch you. All he can do is mess with your thoughts." "You're absolutely correct," he agreed, "You are perfectly safe. Just drop the robe. Let me see your gorgeous body. Let me see you all gloriously naked and sweating in the bright sunshine. The legendary Tomb Raider, spectacular and radiant. Then I'll let you leave. Maybe." "Never. It's never gonna happen." "The monsters are almost upon you. You can hear how close they are. If you don't give up the robe before they arrive, they will take it from you. They might handle you roughly, I'm afraid." "There are no monsters coming. They don't exist." "True, only in your head. Yet the human imagination is such a wonderful, powerful thing. Don't underestimate your capacity. Nothing bad is going to happen to you. Nothing is really going to happen at all. But it won't seem that way, not to you. It will all feel quite convincing, while the dream plays out. If you don't believe me, just wait and see. Here they are now." Half a dozen of them, emerging from the bush on all sides. Oh God. What were they? Something like apes. Their fur was blood-red. They were a little like the beasts she had encountered briefly in the Sacred Serpent Forest ... except she never saw those things clearly, they moved much too fast. And these were larger, bulkier brutes. Walking upright like men. Their faces. Oh God. Half of them looked like that mercenary. The other half had Church's face. Their cocks hung down to their knees, thick around as her forearms. But soon as the monsters saw Lara, those appendages all stiffened and reared tall, their foreskins peeling back from the tops with a sinister slithering sound, all in unison. Laughing, they reached for her with huge clawed hands. "Keep away from me! Keep away!" "Then do what I ask, Lara," said the demon. Lara pulled the belt loose and shrugged the robe from her shoulders, letting it to drop to the dirt around her feet. She was naked before him, shivering. And now all at once, she desperately needed to pee. Straining to hold it in created an awful cramp in her loins. It made her groan. Lara Croft: Church & Steeple "No, no," said the demon, "don't cover yourself like that. Show some spirit! Put your hands up behind your head. Let me see what you're hiding. Move your feet apart. Shoulder-width. Wider!" And Lara complied. Hating herself, but doing what he told her, all the same, not bothering to protest. "Yes, like that. Very good. Now turn around for a moment and show me your ass. Bend over and touch the grass with your fingertips. No, keep your feet apart while you do it. Yes, there! Just like that! Shake your booty a little for me. More! More! Ha! All right, Lara, you may straighten and face me again. You are magnificent, Lara Croft. I can't wait to fuck you. Church feels the same. I can hear all his thoughts, you know. I feel all his feelings, he feels all of mine. We are inextricably entangled now, two spirits but one singular being. He's always lusted after you. Did you know that? Well he has. Perhaps even more than Abigale. They've never fucked yet. Can you believe that? Afraid it might threaten their partnership. It's something I intend to remedy at the first opportunity." "Make the monsters go away!" Lara cried, "I did what you asked. Now make them disappear." He didn't, though they retreated a few paces, grumbling. "Making them go wasn't the deal. I only said I'd bring back the stairs. Well, look. There they are, see?" And yes, when she looked over her shoulder, she could see them, and the door at the top. The jungle remained around them, not the rest of the cellar. It was only the stairs and the door that had reappeared, as if they were naturally part of this environment. But she couldn't just immediately run straight up them and out the door, not from where she was standing in front of Church's cage, up close to the bars. There was a fair amount of ground she would have to cross first, to reach the bottom of the steps. Because this wine cellar, in reality, was so large. Yet it wasn't an enormous distance; it would only take thirty seconds to hustle her ass over there to the stairs. Question was: Did she have thirty seconds to spare? She didn't. Not with all these enormous ape things surrounding her, grinning, poised to spring ... they'd have her in their clutches before she took two steps. "Go, if you're going," said the demon. She bit her bottom lip to keep from breaking down. She mustn't lose control. Tears escaped her eyes and streaked her cheeks, but she didn't begin to bawl like she wanted to. "Send away the monsters." "Open the cage door and I will." She shook her head. "You know it's not that simple. The door's not even locked, there was no point. It's not the door keeping you in there, it's the spell Abigale made. You can't leave 'til she comes back and says the words to let you out. And it has to be her that speaks them." He nodded. "Fine then. Come in and keep me company. Open the door and step in here, pretty thing." "I don't want to." "It's me or the apes, Lara. Take your pick." Her hand was shaking as she reached out to the latch of the door and twisted it open. The cage door swung outward with a high-pitched squeal. Lara stepped inside with her head drooping, no longer able to meet his eyes. Nude and powerless. She did not close the cage behind her until he told her to. "Now," he said, "Be a good girl and kneel down for me." She sniffled once, and then she knelt. "Abigale will return tomorrow with her special equipment," she said, "and then she's going to use those tools to banish you from this world—from this reality." "Perhaps," the demon admitted, "I'll try my best to enjoy the time I have to the fullest. You will help me with that, won't you?" "It seems I have no choice." "Sure you do," he said, "All kinds of choices. Do you want to suck on my cock first, or shall I fuck your ass?" "Don't do that. Please. I've submitted to you. You can fuck me as much as you want. Doesn't look like there's much I can about that now. Just please not in the ... in my arse." "It'll be fine. Trust me. I'll show you. I'll prove it. I know you had some bad experiences back there, but you'll be astonished how much you'll start to like it, once you've grown accustomed to it. Just takes a little time and patience and persistence. Like most things." "Bastard. I hate you. I'd kill you if I knew how." "You'd have to kill Mr. Church as well." "Fine then," she announced, jumping up and grabbing his head by the ears and twisting it until his neck snapped. The work of an instant. Swish-crack! "Ha!" Sadly, that didn't work. He just popped it right back into its proper position. "Nice try. But it's not that easy, I'm afraid. My energies have enhanced the durability of this form. No doubt that was the point of the exercise, when those daft old scientists started their experiments so long ago. I do admire your continued resistance and pluck, in light of the risk. Nevertheless for the sake of discipline I am compelled to punish you for it." Her arms were grabbed from behind—it was the apes, reaching through the bars of the cage door. They pulled her backwards a step—that was all the space there was in here—and held her pinned with her back pressing against those bars. "Shit! Shit!" Their hot hairy hands kept clamped to her shoulders and her wrists. She was immobilized, but still standing upright, remember, after her attack on Church. Another of the apes was pulling on her braid, while with his other hand he reached around and groped her breasts, tweaking her left nipple. The monster didn't do it as cruelly as she expected. Not hard enough to hurt her, only making it surge. Now Church leaned close and hooked a hand under her left knee, to raise her leg. She didn't kick or try to fight him. He took a moment to caress her ankle and the arch of her foot. His touch, like the pinching of her nipple by the ape, was surprisingly gentle and deft. A woman's feet are powerfully erogenous, when men know how to touch them properly. Much more so than her breasts in most cases. That was not true for Lara, but though her breasts were not less sexually susceptible than her feet, that didn't mean her feet weren't still equally sensitive and susceptible. In fact they were. She bit her bottom lip as Church continued to study and stimulate her foot, her breath whistling through flared nostrils. "Your foot is perfectly proportioned, like the rest of you," he said, "Every part of you is physically perfect. A gift or a curse? You can't be a real woman, Lara Croft. You're a dream." "Do you imagine that would excuse you, if I was?" said Lara, "Does it soothe your conscience while you molest me?" Church replied with a smirk and a shrug, and then slid his grip beneath the heel and pushed her foot higher, as high as it could stretch it, straightening her knee in the process. Lara Croft was flexible enough her whole leg could go damn near a hundred and eighty degrees, 'til her toes were pointing to the sky and her shin was lined up beside her cheek. He'd stretched her vagina open, doing this, but not wide like a book. Holding her leg vertically that way kept the gash pinched narrow. It would still give a great deal of resistance to the entry of his cock. Lara grit her teeth and kept her eyes fixed on Church's. She was done with hanging her head and acting meek and forlorn. "All right then, fucker. Have at it. I can take whatever you wanna dish out." "I know you can," said Church, rubbing the head of his dingus against her crease. But he didn't push it in there. He was only teasing the opening to make her juices gush, and then coated his piece thoroughly with those steaming juices. He took his time about it. "Your cunt is so wet for me, Lara. Feels nice and warm and ready." She couldn't deny it, it was. Her cunt was eager and tingling for a fucking regardless of her own opinion of the idea. Then he changed his angle, aiming lower. Fitting the tip to her other hole, tight-clenched and squirming, defenseless. Oh God. Oh no. God no. Thankfully it wasn't dry. Her pussy juices had drizzled down across the opening and soaked it almost as much as her pussy itself. Almost. While he had also taken the trouble to lubricate himself from tip to root with those same emissions. Quite the gentleman indeed. She tried her best not to cry out when it shoved in, but couldn't help it. Church cried out too. "Ohhoohh. Oh my. Oh my, yes indeed. That's nice. That's just what we needed." When it was all the way in there, deep as it could reach, he held still for a time, resting, taking slow breaths. Getting used to her and letting her get used to him, if such a thing was possible. I've just been nailed up the arse by a demon, she thought. God save me. And while he waited, he fiddled with her clit with his fingers, and also with her nipples, with his other hand, the one that had been clinging to her heel. He was using his shoulder instead to keep her leg propped. He was gentle with her clit, but much harsher with her nipples. Harsher than the ape's hand had been. There was nothing she could do about any of these things, or how they felt, and what those feeling started doing to her. Already, like he told her it would, his cock had started to feel good inside her bottom. And then after another minute when he began pushing two of his fingers inside her cunt, she could feel them almost touching his own cock in its separate channel. The barrier of flesh between them felt thin as a sock. She realized was going to come, and quite soon. Church was going to make her get off for him; she could tell that she wouldn't be able to resist it. The demon had taken absolute control of her body with his cock and with his fingers. The shame of it was the greatest punishment. He made her feel small and weak and pathetic and dirty, and somehow he was also making her like these feelings. She wanted to keep feeling this way, and to feel all these feelings stronger and stronger ... and God, her fucking had scarcely started yet. He wasn't even thrusting. Then of course the moment she thought that to herself was when he took off like a racehorse. "How's --- that? Lara! Lara! How's --- that! Feel! LARA!" "Oh God," was her response, "Oh God. Oh fuck. Oh fucking God. Oh." She couldn't stop. She couldn't shut up. Too much to hold back. "My arse! Oh my arse! My arse!" "I bet you regret imprisoning me, don't you? It was unwise, wasn't it?" "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Take it out! Take it out! Please!" "When you come for me," he said, "Soon -- as -- you -- come!" She did. Screaming. It felt like two at once, bursting in both her ass and her cunt simultaneously. "Bastard! Ahhaahh! Ahhaahhh! You bastard! Ahhuuhhaaahuuhh!" He did not come with her like she expected. He removed himself instead. "Release her," he said to his apes, "Let her drop." She collapsed to her knees, panting. His greased pulsing cock pressed immediately to her lips. "Suck it, Lara Croft!" he commanded, "Finish me! Don't close your eyes. Look at me! Suck!" In tears, she obeyed. She accepted the cock that had just fucked her ass into her mouth and suckled it with all her remaining strength and determination, the little tattered scraps she had left. Could she taste her own poo on it? Well, how would she know? She'd never tasted poo before. It didn't end up tasting or smelling as bad as she thought it might, but different than it would have if it had been fucking her normally. Much different than all the other cocks she'd sucked in her life. Not a flavor she could properly classify—didn't have the words for it. It wasn't comparable to anything else. He only made her do it a few seconds, at least. Then he was ready to shoot, and he didn't want to do that in her mouth. He wanted to see it—these bastards always wanted to see it. He pulled back to deliver it across her face and her breasts. She made no attempt to dodge, just took it quietly. Though of course she could not help flinching each time she felt a shot of the scalding stuff landing on her skin. Three distinct bursts, working downward—forehead, cheeks, tits, splat, splat, splat. Like a religious ritual. A ritual of conquest, a ritual of worship. Both together, intertwined. Lara had just given up all of herself up to the demon, body and soul, like a sacrifice. And the demon had taken the offering. There could be no undoing of the act. Lara Croft had just become a demon's fucktoy and he'd made her get off on it while it happened. "Oh fuck," she moaned and shuddered, "Oh fuck. Uhhhgghhnnn." "Wonderful," said Church, "Thank you for that, Lara. That was perfect. I feel much better now. How about you?" She couldn't think of a good comeback. Couldn't get her breath back anyway. He stepped closer again to wipe his cock between her heaving breasts, pressing them tight on it from the sides. "Help me clean off a little, if you don't mind," he said. Christ, she thought. What a joke. As if the valley of her breasts were any less filthy and slimy than his cock, from her sweat alone even he hadn't just spooged all over them. And more spooge soon emerged from him. He didn't exactly ejaculate again, but squeezing and rubbing between her tits must have worked some leftover sperm from his tubes. These last little spurts ended up on her neck, that little notch at the base where your collarbones meet. "Ahaahh! There we go!" the demon snickered, "What a delicious delightful feeling! This squishy corporeal human existence certainly has its advantages over the higher dimensions, let me tell you. We don't have anything like these magnificent tits of yours up there, Lara." Then the cage door squealed open behind her. The apes reached in and grabbed Lara by her hair and her shoulders to haul her out there again with the rest of the troop. She flailed and kicked but couldn't prevent it. "No! No!" she screamed, "Get them off me! What are you doing?" "I told you before," said Church, "I need to punish you." "You just did! You already did!" "No, that wasn't your punishment. That was just an indulgence on my part. Needed to relieve this body's lust. The apes will handle your punishment." "Take me back in the cage! Please! I'm sorry!" "I'm sorry too, Lara. But this is how it has to be, to make it a proper punishment. You won't learn your lesson if I let you off the hook too easily, will you?" Another ape, one with a Church face, had already sprawled down on the ground flat on his back. Two others picked Lara up under her armpits, and another two grabbed her feet, soon as they were lifted free of the ground. Her legs were forced as wide apart as they could reach, and then the monsters lowered her slowly and carefully toward the one on his back. "Not this! Not like this!" "Yes, Lara," said the ape below with Church's voice, "This." They skewered her on the ape's waiting eager cock. Despite the absurd inhuman enormity, it did not hurt her like it should have. It was agony and it made her scream like a banshee, but the sensations it caused to explode throughout her body and being could not have been called pain. As soon as she'd taken it all the way inside herself, clear down to its root, they pressed her forward so another could start shoving himself up her bumhole. "Please! Not there again! Not in there! Not in my ass! Not again! Please! I beg you!" They did not relent. It was much like before—the strange sensation of the two penetrators in separate passages nearly touching inside her, divided by only a thin layer of tissue, with sparks of electricity crackling between them through the membrane. But this time it wasn't a cock and two fingers—it was two cocks, and both of them at least thrice the size of Church's. "Oh fuck! My God! My fucking God! Ohohhhoohh fuuuhhhmmm—mmm—muhhmm!" For now another enormous red ape cock had pushed into her mouth and crammed itself down her throat. Two leftover beasts contented themselves for the present with cranking her hands on their cocks, while the last made similar use of her left foot, mashing under her toes with its slimy spongy tip. "How do you like this approach, Lara?" the demon taunted her, "If you could only see yourself, my word—it's quite a thing to witness." "Uhrhhn! Uhhuuhhuummuuhh! Guhhrrnuuh!" "Yes, that's right. I know just what you mean." 3. Abigale did manage to save her, eventually. Or at least she put an end to the experience. And she restored her partner to normal. Lara never knew the nitty-gritty details. She wasn't properly awake during any of Abigale's big struggle. By the time Abigale had returned to the manor the next day, Lara's mind was pretty far gone. Abigale came clomping down the steps with a suitcase in each hand, full of her special machinery ... Very first thing she saw was Lara in the middle of the floor, stark naked on her knees. Lara was drenched in sweat (was it only sweat?) and rather filthy all over with dust she'd picked up from the stone floor; otherwise she looked fine. No scratches or cuts or bruises. She was alone but not acting like she was. The way she was kneeling with her head thrown back and her eyes shut and her mouth open, and the way she was making pumping motions in the air with both her hands on either side of her face, it appeared she was pleasuring invisible men. Jerking invisible cocks off on her face. More than two, it seemed—she kept shifting her hands around to grab other invisible shafts in different positions around her. Lara kept flinching and sputtering, as if fluid was spraying upon her—though nothing really was. Or nothing new, at the very least; there was shiny oily fluid on her skin but it had been there already. It would have been funny to watch if it wasn't so damn dreadful and sad and embarrassing. "Oh you bastards," she moaned, to nobody, "Oh you're so gross. You're all so cruel to me. Oh God. How many times are you're gonna make me do this? Let me rest! Please let me rest just for a minute! Please!" Church was still standing in his cage, looking calm and serene despite the fact he was jerking himself off at feverish speed as he watched Lara's bizarre and disgraceful pantomime. He nodded to Abigale in polite greeting. "Join the fun, my dear. We've been eagerly awaiting your arrival." Abigale hadn't bothered to respond. She just grit her teeth and got right to work, thunking her cases to floor and unlatching them, to unpack her devices. In the meantime, Lara suddenly slumped backward full length with her arms over her head, like she'd been shoved over, and then it was as if someone was pinning down her wrists to the ground, while she raised her legs high and wide. It really didn't look like she did it herself—it looked like someone was pulling them up and holding them in the air by her ankles. Like she was kicking against their grip, but couldn't break it. It was eerie. Made Abigale's stomach turn over, watching that happen. "Not again," Lara wailed, "Not already. You just came! You all just came! GOD! GAHHAAWWD!" And she had jounced and rocked up and down on the floor like she was taking violent thrusts into herself. Again and again. "Ahhuhh! Ahhuuhh!" Faster and faster. The toes of her suspended feet all flexed tight in time with each punishing impact. Abigale tried not to watch. It was very embarrassing. Very difficult to keep her eyes averted. She mixed up several of the cable connections on her machines and had to redo them all, cursing. Abigale had taken a deep breath and then rotated all the cases, moving herself around with them to put her back to Lara. Only chance she had of concentrating, at that point. "You bastards!" Lara screamed, "You barbaric bloody brutes! I'm—I'm coming! I'm fucking coming again! You bastard brutes! How do you keep doing it to me? How do you keep making me? It's not fair! I don't want to! I hate you! You keep making me! You're making me come! Ahhuuuhhh!" Lara Croft: Church & Steeple A jet of fluid squirted from her pussy, arching high. It had showered Abigale's back, where she was bent over her things. "Wonderful," the demon commented. "Oh Christ," Abigale had shouted, in disgust, "Yuck! It's all over me!" "May as well just take the jacket off," advised the demon, "and your shirt too, while you're at it." Lara was already being taken again by another nonexistent individual. This time she'd rolled over and lifted up to her hands and knees before her body started to sway, buttocks quivering like gelatin. Her complaints and pleas became substantially muffled, though her face was raised and her mouth was open, her lips formed into a wide pulsing circle. Her feet tilted backward from the floor behind her, toes curling tight as the speed of her sways increased ... Quite soon, her pussy was squirting again. "Uhhhuuhhhuunnn!" "See how fast she gives it up for me each time now?" the demon had said, "There's no fight left in her at all. Will it be the same with you, Abigale? I wonder. I've been waiting so long to find out. I've held myself back from Lara, for the most part. As far as personal intimacy, I mean. Not completely. I confess we made some sport together in the very beginning of the game. But once she took the edge off me, I've been leaving her to her own devices, as you can see, just nudging her along at a distance. Saving up the rest of my energies all for you. Won't you speak to me? Why won't you even look at me? Don't be so timid. I must break you of that." Over the next hour and a half, Abigale's fancy gadgetry provided her better defense from Church's mind-games than Lara had, but that was not to say she was completely immune either. By the time she finally chased the evil creature from Church's body (after a long finicky calibration process, fraught with frequent interruptions and resets), she too had lost most of her clothing and much of her dignity, after various ups and downs. Lara remained oblivious. "I'm losing my mind!" she would frequently exclaim, in a sorrowful tone, apparently not realizing that she'd lost it already. "I'm losing my mind to the pleasures!" Never knew Abigale was in the room with her, experiencing her own series of personalized erotic torments ... but instantly, both of them snapped out of their crazed states as soon as the demon was successfully banished. Lara's memory of the majority of the whole ordeal remained a vague blur after that. Except occasionally when she was asleep and dreaming. She would never remember the details of those dreams after she woke again. Just that whatever she'd been dreaming about had been particularly intense and weird, yet painfully familiar. It was a blessing that those feelings were all her brain hung on to, come daytime. She did her best not to let herself dwell on them. Abigale Steeple was less fortunate. She remembered everything about her battle with the demon, every excruciating moment of it, every unwelcome but ultimately undeniable orgasm. Though far shorter than Lara's time, her ordeal had not necessarily been any less harrowing for her. Hers had played largely off the guilt she felt over the coven that had expelled her from their group a few years previously, because she protested against their turn to dark magic. Taking the place of Lara's generic jungle, Abigale had found herself transported to a misty moonlit graveyard, where her former sisters (all gone now, in real life, carried off to Hell mere days after they cast out Abigale, when one of their wicked blood-rituals was botched) had all come crawling and screeching from the soil, restored to beauty and naked but for strap-on's, and then fallen upon Abigale with flaming whips ... Just like with Lara's apes, everything those women did to her—and they were quite brutal, much more so in fact than anything the apes did to Lara—was unreal, and Abigale's flesh took no scars. Yet later on, after another phase of the combat, the facial that Abigale submitted to from the possessed Church, after he had tricked her into the cage and sodomized her, and after she had begged him for it, had been entirely genuine. She eventually took a second one from him, as well, sharing it on her knees nose-to-nose with Lara after Church had compelled them to pleasure each other for a considerable length of time, while he watched. This was Abigale's first experience of the so-called sixty-nine, as well the more strenuous maneuver known as Magic Scissors, or "tribbing". Lara never knew she was doing those things with Abigale. She kept calling her by the name Jace instead, or sometimes Malice, or sometimes "Jungle Girl". It was unclear if all these names referred to the same person in Lara's hallucinations, or different individuals. Abigale had not been a virgin, before the battle. But she had never achieved an orgasm during sex until that day. She had thought she had, and was disappointed in the results, deciding it had meant she was simply a not very sexually-inclined individual, psychologically and genetically. She had been mistaken about that. The demon—with Lara's assistance—subjected her to dozens of the real thing in a row. As one can imagine, this was a very shocking physical transformation. A fundamental gamechanger. It was the awakening of a whole new world for the young woman. Or a whole new universe, more like. The secret to defeating Church—the demon inside him, rather, their real enemy—turned out to be making him come. Not his illusionary puppets, the man himself. That weakened him, for a few minutes after each orgasm, giving Abigale time to crawl over and try a few settings on her machines before a fresh batch of illusions would surge out from him and engulf her consciousness again. Those short weak periods were only weak enough for Abigale to recover her senses; Lara's mind was too shattered, she never noticed them. If Church had stopped fucking with them, or at least held himself back from further ejaculations, Abigale might never have found the right settings on her equipment. But he couldn't stop and she finally did. He'd got himself hooked on coming. Hardly the first man to do that. The demon had probably almost driven himself as crazy as Lara by that stage. When it was all over, Lara and Church went back to normal. Abigale didn't. Her personality changed drastically, manifested in the manner in which she chose to dress and to carry herself, and in the nature of her partnership with Jeremiah Church. Lara wasn't sure the pair would still be able to keep working together. In the end, they did, but not in the same fashion as they used to. It became a very different kind of arrangement. But that's not a Tomb Raider tale (Lara herself wasn't comfortable seeing much of either of them anymore). That's a separate story, their story, and if it is ever told, it shall have to be another time, and elsewhere ...