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The Fall of Lana Craft

By: HotRumours



(Every character in this story is at least 18 years old. The story may contain exaggerated actions, plots or physical features. The main plot consists in a degrading and abusing a female main character, which will only be viewed by an outside perspective and may be quite passive or submissive. The story will not feature any urination, feces, blood nor typical sadomasochistic practices. As I'm not a native speaker i apologize if my english reads a bit odd, but you can always help me and be my proofreader. Please comment the story. Thank you and have fun.) 

*

My name is Jacob Smith, but please, call me Jake. Like my Father Winston Smith, I have dedicated my life to Lord Henshingly Craft and his family. For the British aristocracy, this was a very small one, consisting only in Lord Henshingly Craft, or Sir James as he preferred to be called, and Amelia Craft his wife. Then, ten years after I was born, they had a little baby girl, and they called it 'Lana'. Of course you all know Lana Craft, the famous archaeologist and adventurer. Due to her amazing discoveries and her daring spirit she made it to the headlines of any newspaper in the world. She gave interviews in important American and British TV Shows, was declared person of the year and a sex symbol by various magazines, and she was given any science award you can think of. They even made her the protagonist of a very successful video game series, a TV Show and some Hollywood Movies. Her success reached a level, that could only have been topped by the legendary Dr. Henry Walton Jones Jr., back in the thirties. 

But everything has its end, including the glory days of Doctor Lana Craft, Countess of Abbingdon, discoverer of the Dagger of Xian and many other artefacts. All started with an article in the Washington Post in 2000, that accused the celebrated archaeologist of violation of graves and illegal exportation of ancient artefacts. From this moment on, Miss Craft was doomed, because every single newspaper started to research. Even Governments and NGOs started to file reports of all the violations she committed. They found out, she had recklessly destroyed artistic and cultural heritage and even killed people to obtain what wasn't even rightfully hers. It was a mess and maybe one of the biggest scandals in History. A wave of legal proceedings hit museums and universities that had collaborated with her. Artefacts had to be returned to their rightful owners, and huge sums of compensations had to be paid. Miss Craft had to give back most of her awards and they stripped her scientific titles.

As if this weren't already enough, all those reporters snooping around dug up some nasty private details about Lana. Her, I have to admit it, weird sex life was all over the news. Interestingly those delicate stories didn't reduce the numbers of fans she had - just the 'kind' of fans changed. I can tell, because I was in charge of her fan mail since she had become a celebrity. Before the scandal her fan mail was 40:60 male and female (i guess that's because most men aren't much into writing). But after that, the males took over 80% of the mail. Also the tone of those letters and emails changed from a respectful and admiring tone, to very blunt and horny advances. 

Lanas career ended when she was about 32 - way to early to retire. But she had to. She lost her job, her credibility, her pride and most of her fortune. She kept her good looks for some more years, but all those legal proceedings, all those worries and defeats started to take even that from her. She gained a few pounds, her face became rounder and her lips fleshier. Little wrinkles could be seen around here eyes and on her forehead, and she had this kind of defeated look in here eyes. Her ass had become really big and wobbly and her thighs quite thick. Her big boobs, once firm and round like they were fake, swelled up to huge drop-shaped saggy meat bags, that rested heavily on the little tummy she had developed. She also stopped braiding her hair, wearing make up and tight clothes. If you ask me, she had some kind of depression after all that. Most of you wouldn't have recognized her back in those days. She looked like some worn out mother of four kids - well, when she fixed herself up, she was still kind of attractive - if you are into chubby milfs. But that was seldom the case. 

You see, this is the typical story of the downfall of a celebrated Person. A person I knew since she was a baby. She has been always very special to me and I have considered myself her biggest fan. If I had been an aristocrat like she is, maybe I would have asked for her hand. But I know she never would have considered a common servant a possible husband. Not that she ever have treated me bad or unfair - quite the opposite. She has always been as loyal to me, as I was to her - maybe even more, since I wasn't as loyal to her, as she thought i was. She was very generous and always helped me to solve my problems or when my parents became old and frail. She even paid for their medicine, the nursing home, and their funeral. When she was a kid, I played with her - she was a tomboy- running and jumping around, climbing on trees and over walls and fences. Every time I was with her, I was out of breath. 

Despite the age difference of 10 years, we were like best friends. When ever she was worried, she came to me to talk. And when ever I needed something from her father, I could count on her to persuade him. He loved his only child so much he would do anything for her, and well, I kind of used that to my benefit. Things got a bit more difficult when she entered puberty. But that's something I'm not allowed to tell here. What I can tell you is, that when she turned 18 I was totally in love with her. At least I think I was - sometimes I have doubts about it, and I find it more plausible that I just had a very strong obsession with her - I don't know. Back than, it felt like love, that's for sure. But even if we were best friends and knew each other so well - she was out of my reach. I knew my father wouldn't approve and her father would agree with him. And also she wouldn't approve because she considered me (just) her friend, but somehow never thought of me as a men. That was a very big blow to my self-esteem. It frustrated me, and even made me angry with her. Than I felt bad, because it wasn't really her fault and at the same time I felt guilty. Not only for being angry at her, but for being so ungrateful. I had a good friendship with such a great and special person and I didn't see that. I didn't see all the support she was giving me and my parents, all the benefits I had just because I was her friend. For her I was much more than just a butler - I was like a partner. She trusted me and relied on me, like on nobody else. She even trusted me more, this stuck up twit Von Croy that was kind of a boyfriend for some time. But all this I didn't see. I only saw the rejection, the things I didn't get. And that's why I made mistakes, I guess. 

Well now I'm here to share some of the stories I have experienced in my time as Lanas servant with you. But I warn you. Those stories aren't for delicate spirits. They wont be very subtle nor very romantic. You might find them nasty, brutal or (physically) exaggerated. If you aren't prepared to see you favourite heroine degraded and humiliated you better move on. On the other Hand some of the stories will be quite harmless in a physical way and to sense the erotic you will have to have the same psychological quirk (or fetish) like I do. 

*

You are always requested to participate, to 'remind' me of episodes I may have forgotten over the years. Feel free to ask about details, or if certain things happened. Inspire me and I will do the best I can, to tell you the true story of young Lady Craft and her sexual encounters with men, monsters, and me. 

The Fall of Lana Craft Ch. 01



In 1993 the Sultanate of Agrabah was assaulted by their neighbour country, the Republic of Ayfaqustan. The two countries had a long history of border disputes, specially since they had found oil on the Agrabahn side of the border. After years of fruitless negotiations and the increasing economical crisis in Ayfaqustan, this conflict finally escalated. Fathi Ashhad, President of Ayfaqustan, claimed that Agrabah were Ayfaqustani territory that had been cut off by British colonial politicians after World War II. Ayfaqustani propaganda stated that Agrabah had indeed been part of the ancient Ayfaquan Empire long before British colonialism and that it must be reconquered at all cost. The invasion only took three days, as the small sultanate could barely offer any resistance. Just one hour after the Ayfaqustani troops had surrounded the palace of Agrabah, Ashhad stated in television, that "[...] no harm will be done to the royal family nor to any Agrabahn citizen, as long as the new negotiations lead to an agreement of mutual benefit. This is no war - we have just created a fairer basis for negotiation." This was aired at 6:00 Arabia Standard Time (3:00 GMT). One hour later, Lana Craft got the call.

Just a few hours after Lana's got the call, we were sitting in her fathers battered Douglas DC3 on our way to Agrabah. Sir James bought this chubby looking plane back in the 50's for is collection of WWII aeroplanes. He named it "Lana" Because of its bad condition Sir James decided to repair and modify "Lana" and use her as a private jet. For almost 30 years he had been rolling on nearly every airfield in the world with his 'old girl', humming through heavy storms, beautiful sunsets, over cities and deserts, crossing oceans and mountains. No wonder the old aircraft was literally falling apart, when Lana and I took off for Agrabah. 

When I sat down on the co-pilot seat it gave a crunching and squeaking noise, like metal being bend and broken. If you slammed the door of the cockpit everything within rattled, like a tin full of nails. I put one hand against the window and pushed to test it. It gave away a deep creaking groan. I smiled uneasy at Lana, but she just smiled back. "Common, this is going to be fun!" she said laughing, grabbing the back of my seat and shaking it wildly. From somewhere behind me a metal spring jumped against my leg. I swallowed hard. Holy Mother, this was going to be our last flight, I thought. 

If we wanted to talk we had to scream, such was the rattling, the rumble and clatter of this flying scrap heap. So most of the time we were silent. But we had to refuel two times and we had some time in quiet to talk about what we were going to do. The Agrabah royals were good friends with the Hengshingly Crafts. Now they needed our help. They had asked the occupying forces for some favours, and they had been granted. One of them was to get Miss Craft to be the mediator and negotiator between the two countries. The Aifuqustanis had seen this as a sign of good will and accepted the request. Besides it seamed very convenient to them that the mediator would be an archaeologist and historian, because they thought she would only proof the point their propaganda was making, that Agrabah was once part of the Aifuquan Empire. On the other hand, if she dared to deny it, she was still a woman, and for them that meant she was easy to be 'persuaded'. The Aifuqustanis felt save in their superior position, so they where foolishly generous.

Lana knew already what this whole thing was really about. The royals didn't want her to negotiate. People never wanted the famous Miss Craft and her shooting skills for talking. They wanted her to get stuff in or out some place. So Lana figured the royals had something very valuable they didn't want the invaders to have. Now all depended on whether the royals had this valuable object already in hands or they needed Lana to find it first and than getting it out of the enemies reach. "This is going to be interesting and very very lucrative." concluded Lana with a knowing smile, while studying an Agrabah tourist guide.

During the flight I thought about all this. I have been on adventures with her all my life and every time I had a bad feeling about it. I never got used to all this risky business of hers. It's just not me. You know, shooting, jumping from cliffs, buildings or helicopters, things exploding... Or crossing whole Venice just to find some lever that opens a door on the other side of town. Hell, no! I left this kind of action to her and preferred to be save and warm. On the other Hand, when everything was over, and I was back home, I loved to tell the adventure stories to others, sometimes feeling a bit like a hero myself. But, well, back to the story at hand.

I knew this one was going to be tough. Its was a war, and it was only a matter of days till other countries would intervene. The unscrupulousness of the enemy was not to be underestimated. If we weren't careful, we could end up dead between the front lines. So we had to be fast and subtle. I knew Lana could be fast, but subtle? As soon as she started to search for some missing object it was a matter of time till she blew something up. I still remember her blowing up the toaster while looking for her fathers car keys in the kitchen. 

In my mind we were already lying in some dark cell being tortured by some uniformed bastard with a turban. It scared the hell out of me. Not death, but to die slow by the hand of a sadistic animal on foreign soil. To calm me down I took a long glance at Lana flying the plane. She looked straight forward, checking all the gauges, the map, and her data about Agrabah and the royals. She seemed so self confident and strong. And she didn't show a glimpse of doubt or fear. She sat there, in the creaking seat, wearing nothing but brown hot pants, a tight green top, and her laced up boots. She wasn't carrying any weapons, but the holsters were dangling on a hook bumping heavily against the cockpit door every time we hit an air pocket. As always, my eyes were hypnotised by Lana's big, fake looking breasts. The sheer size calmed me down and took my thoughts away from danger and death. The green fabric stretched so much around her orbs, that her white bra cups shone through. 

All her ex boyfriends came to my mind, who where allowed to touch those amazing beauties. I fancied the boys grabbing them and sticking their hard dicks between them. Somehow this kind of thoughts hurt me and get me exited at the same time. I feel also guilty because as her friend, I shouldn't have such fantasies about Lana.

She has always been popular with the guys. Who could blame them? And who could blame her for taking advantage of this? Except maybe that she could have given me a chance. I'm mean she obviously weren't very picky when it came to guys, so why not me? Some of her best friends fucked her. Some of her parents friends. Why not me? The postman, the plumber, a police officer, some guys she met at the clubs. Everyone got his chance. Why not me? What was wrong about me? Did she think I was gay? I could have shown her right there that I wasn't. I had a raging hard-on from looking at her. 

She cut off my masochistic train of thought, by throwing the tourist guide into my lap. I nearly jumped when the book hit my boner. "Take a look at that. I don't want you to get lost there." she said with a broad grin. 

After fifteen hours of flight we landed in Agrabah. The Airport had been taken over by Ayfuqustani forces. It was around midnight and they had the whole place flooded with blinding bright lights. Everywhere were light Tanks and other military vehicles. I saw helicopters and some cold war fighter jets. The few passenger planes were resting with their lights shut off. 'Lana' was escorted to her parking position by a single Jeep of the Ayfuqustani military forces. Than two men in uniform got out of the Jeep, while a gangway vehicle was approaching us. The crackling voice from the tower gave us order to wait. Two military inspectors would come on board to check if everything was according to the agreement. If yes, we would be escorted by the Jeep to the royal palace. Our baggage would be unloaded, checked and delivered later to our residence. What would happen to us if something was wrong, they didn't specify. Lana agreed with everything and we waited with frayed nerves for the inspectors to come on board. 

The steps of the inspectors were as heavy as my heart beats I felt up to my throat. When I heard them banging on the door, I jumped up from my seat with a metallic creak, left the cockpit room and went to let them in. I could see two frighteningly huge shadows through the small door window. The door swung open, and the shadows entered. They were broad and tall, wearing heavy boots, combat uniforms and keffiyehs. I saluted them with the British military salute, and they responded with their own. Now Lana came in sight, greeting them with a simple "Hey! Welcome on board!" and a handshake. Her delicate hand looked helplessly tiny and misplaced in the huge raw paws of the soldiers. 

The polite but very reserved Inspectors looked around in the almost empty cargo hold, and asked some routine questions about this and that, made investigative small talk. They poked and touched everything, knocked on the floor and an the walls and listened with a concentrated, very serious face that looked ridiculously dumb. I couldn't help but thinking of two troglodytes and their encounter with modern technology. They showed special interest in why we were travelling in such an old and run-down aircraft. Somehow they found this amusing and the tension eased up a bit, as we joked about it. They also checked the cockpit and had great fun jiggling the seats around and listening the whole cockpit rattle. One of them saw Lana's weapons and holsters hanging at the door, poked them with the index finger but he said nothing. 

After fifteen minutes of snooping around they seemed very satisfied. I felt so relieved when I saw them nodding benevolently at us. In the cargo hold they told us that everything was just fine, but there were just two thing that needed to be taken care of before we could get to the palace. My heart dropped. "He," said one of the troglodytes, pointing at me, "was not part of the agreement." His deep voice echoed in my head and my blood froze for a second. I gave Lana an anxious look. Didn't she tell the authorities she would bring me along? Maybe she forgot, because for her it went without saying. But, how could she forget me? "Also," the thundering voice went on, "you need permit to carry weapons, you have in cockpit." Well done Lana, I thought, thank you! Now they will lock me away till you are done with your adventure over here. I'll be sitting in some stinking hole with god knows whom else. Thank you very much indeed, your Highness!

"This is no problem, Doctor Craft. I think we can find solution. You and your friend, can have a wonderful stay at Agrabah." The troglodyte grinned at Lana while the other one gave me a grim look. Lana frowned looked at the inspectors, trying to read what they had in mind. "Maybe is best if we discuss this in private" the inspector continued extending a hand to Lana, "your friend can already leave the plane and wait with our chauffeur in the Jeep. I'm sure we will find solution, Miss Craft." By those words, my anger turned into fear again. 

Anxiously I looked at the brutes extended Hand, big enough to crush my scull with ease or to grab my mistress by the waist and do god knows what to her. I swallowed hard but to my shock Lana nodded slowly at the inspector. "Miss Craft," I stuttered, "you shouldn't, I mean, I hope you won't..." I couldn't really say it out loud, what I thought those corrupt animals had in mind. But I felt somehow responsible for it, even if it was really her fault, that she didn't tell them about me. She was about to do something terrible just to save me from harm and to accomplish what she had come for. This was wrong, and I wanted to protest but the words just wouldn't come out. "Miss Craft?" repeated the troglodyte and with one paw pointed to the cockpit door. Lana had stood there with an absent glance on her face. Now she woke up and gave me a strict look, telling me to obey. Than she looked away from me and let the inspectors lead her to the cockpit. 

I felt sick to the stomach. They would fuck her. I had seen it in their hungry eyes, the moment they entered the plane. This was the reason why they were looking so satisfied when they found a reason to detain us. Now I would leave this audacious and intelligent woman to those primates, who would mount her like some sort of lower animal. Why not me? I pushed my thoughts away, nodded bitter, and climbed out of the planes door. Maybe they just want money. As I started to step down the ladder, I saw the last troglodyte entering the cockpit behind Lana. "I protest!" I yell in a hoarse voice, but the loud bang from the cockpit door being slammed behind them cuts off my half-hearted objection. Indecisiveness and shock left me motionless on the gangway, starring at the shut cockpit door. Finally I gasped under the pressure I felt on my chest and pushed away images of Lana's tiny body squashed between those massive buffaloes and started to step down the ladder. 

I nodded miserably at the driver sitting in the Jeep, a regular looking guy. He smiled and offered me the seat next to him. Than he tried to make some small talk but I didn't listen. I couldn't help but looking up to the cockpit once in a while. The driver noticed and gave me a knowing grin. Angrily I looked away, and stared at my knees. I felt sick. Rhythmic creaking and rattling noises became audible from the cockpit above me. First I tried to drown them out by making noises with my seat or by coughing. But when the sounds became louder and louder and turned into a heavy pounding accompanied by an rattling and screeching echo, the driver must have sensed my desperateness and switched on a little pocket radio he had in the compartment of the Jeep. So there I was, with my guilty conscience, listening to "Boom, shake the room" by Jazzy Jeff, while I was unable to suppress those perverse images that flooded my brain, of my long-time friend and mistress selling herself out to those brutes. Next to me, tired and worn out "Lana" was groaning like an overloaded animal, under the strain of the bouncing and jiggling from the cockpit. Her old metallic bones creaked with every thrust, accompanied by the rattling choir of her loose rivets. Sometimes, between the radio songs, I thought I could hear suffocated screaming and moaning. But it could have been my imagination, I don't know.