[Corvid]

11:02

She didn't resist as they dragged her off the table.

Her shoulders and arms screamed in protest when they cut the tie that had held her hands cuffed behind her for hours. A heavy chain was attached to a hook in the ceiling, and her arms were manacled above her head, and that protest became all the louder. For Lara's part, all she could manage was a moan.

Her ankles were chained to the floor with just enough slack to move about half a step in any direction; enough slack to spread her legs, or lean her forward or back, but not enough to kick effectively. Enough to make access to her body easy, but not enough for any kind of comfort.

She stood, chained, on display in the middle of the concrete bunker, bruises and welts, cum and sweat and spit decorating her lithe form. And if her pert breasts had been beaten harshly, they still thrust out in a most desirable way from her chest with her arms above her head. And if her cunt had been used cruelly, the pelvic shadow that traced down to that swollen cleft was still an invitation to any man. And if that shapely ass had been sodomized with such violence that she had bled- indeed, with the intention of making that delicate and forbidden passage bleed- it still promised pleasure to the man who would drive against it.

Four men had not yet used her.

Kalivas made coffee.

Collins and Gamble circled the chained woman. Collins paused to lift and squeeze her breasts, sinking his fingers into the supple flesh. Gamble did the same with her ass, running fingers down her cleft, feeling her anus and pussy flinch at his touch.

Hands ran over her sides, scratched down her ribs, the sensitive skin under her arms, the quivering tendons at the back of her knees. Fingers pushed against her sore abdomen, feeling the stretched and beaten flesh give.

Collins lifted her chin, gazed into the thousand-yard-stare in her brown eyes. He turned her face in his hand, admiring her high cheekbones and the aristocratic architecture of her beauty.

He spat in her face and slapped her. A muffled whimper passed her lips, and her head drooped forward again.

“D'you think I can get her crying if I fuck her up the ass again?” murmured Gamble.

“I don't know,” Collins replied, lifting her head again to stare into her face. “But I think it would be worth giving it a good, hard try. Hang on a sec.”

“No hurry.”

Collins moved off to the shelves in the back of the room, leaving Gamble, contemplative, behind her.

Gamble set his chin on her shoulder as he squeezed her lash-reddened derrière, tensing and releasing his mitts on her soft, toned flanks.

“What do you, think, Croft?” He whispered. “Janzen got you to clench up with his cuz' hammering your stomach. Kaar and Rojas and Abassi all got the benefit of your little asshole being whipped shut. Defunestro got to slosh that water in your guts. All I get is gravity. It's been open season on that tight butt of yours, and I've had the pleasure of watching you take some legendary butt-fuckings. Is there enough 'squeeze' left in your asshole to make it burn?”

A finger tickled against her anus. Lara gasped, mewling softly.

“Mmm. Sore, isn't it? Anyone get up the high-and-mighty Countess of Abbington's shit-chute before today? Some poncey earl slip a finger inside your butt while he was tonguing your clit, after getting a 'by your leave'? Some millionare jet-setter get to ass-fuck you slow and tender because it was his birthday and he fed you on roast pheasant and caviar, and plied you with diamonds?”

Fingers pinched open the swollen pucker. She hissed, her body going rigid.

“You're a fucking bitch, Croft. An un-lubed cock wrenching though your guts is what you need and deserve. A burning, aching hole in your core that reminds you that there's a place inside you just to fuck and hurt and punish. That for all your training and exercise, all your gymnastics and all your gunplay, your body is just a cum receptacle.”

Collins returned with a heavy burlap sandbag over one shoulder and his arms full of weapons. He tossed the bag aside, shoved the rubber truncheon into his belt, and whirled the handguns in front of the bound tomb-raider.

“Look familiar, sweets?”

He laughed, dangling the guns next to her chest, frustratingly out of reach. “A pair of big guns for a pair of big guns, that right?”

She turned her head away, lips going tight. Collins' expression hardened. He holstered the guns in his belt, grabbing her under the jaw and turning her to face him as he again drew the club.

“Open your mouth.”

Her sullen eyes looked back at him under heavy lids.

“The boss said not to hit you in the face, but I don't think he'd notice if you were missing some dental work, cunt. Open your goddamn mouth.”

Her lip furrowed for a moment, and then her jaw dropped open. He slid the hard black rubber lengthwise between her teeth.

“Keep it there.”

Her teeth clenched resignedly on the truncheon.

“Yeah, that's a good look for you. And hey, if that baton got your mouth open for Ramos, it can do the same for me.”

Recognition of the club's former use hit her. Her stomach clenched and her cheeks went hollow with revulsion.

“Don't you fucking drop it, Croft. Keep the ass-club in your teeth.” He looked over her shoulder at Gamble. “You ready?”

“Just been waiting on you, sluggard.” Gamble's erection rubbed against the heat of her rump.

“Lay into the bitch.”

Gamble set the head of his cock inside of her cleft, bent his knees, and thrust up into Lara's ass.

“GRRRRRRRRRRNNNNNGHHHH!” She screamed into the club.

“Oh, yeah,” snarled Gamble, hands tightening on her hips. “That's it!”

“NGHH!- UNGHH!- NGHHH!- GGNGH!-”

BANG.

Lara's tightly shut eyes went wide as Collins fired the semi-automatic into the sandbag, the gunshot deafening as it exploded around the concrete room. Her next three cries into the club were turned into gasps of surprise as Gamble pounded her.

BANG. BANG.

A wisp of vapor issued from the barrel of the gun as Collins held it up, filling the room with the smell of burning powder.

“Big guns for big guns, right, Croft?”

His fingers grabbed the nipple of her right breast as the swell bounced with the impact of Gamble's buggering. Twisting the nub, he yanked up on the globe, and jammed the barrel of the pistol into the underside of her breast, pushing the hot metal deep into the meat of her tit.

“NGHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

The truncheon bounced as it hit the floor.

Collins smiled, holstering the gun as he squatted and picked up the club where it had fallen.

“Aw. Do you not want to hold this in your mouth any more, Croft?”

His voice was syrup-sweet and mocking. She nodded painfully as Gamble drove deep and hard into her rump.

The smile on Collins' face ripped away into savage fury in an instant.

“Wrong answer, whore. You don't get an 'I want' any more.”

His face contorted into a snarl as he slammed the club into the side of her breast with a loud THWACK.

“AHHHEEEE!”

THWACK. THWACK. THWACK. Each breast took two vicious blows, and then he rammed the end of the club into her belly.

“HNGHHH-”

Gamble let out a satisfied laugh as the blow sent her lower body pressing against him. Then Collins squatted, and moved the head of the rigid black rubbed down between her thighs.

His fist went white on the handle as he drove it inside of her vagina with a squish.

“AHHHH!”

“Fuck you, Croft! Fuck you!”

The club slammed against her bruised and battered cervix as Collins raped her with the brutal weapon. She felt Gamble's hands tighten on her hips as he assaulted her guts with his cock, scouring the membrane between his member and the rubber hammering her birth canal.

She struggled not to be sick. If she threw up on the man savaging her vagina with the club, there was no telling what he would do to her.

She lost count of how many times the club stabbed inside of her before he withdrew it with another grotesque sound. The slick black rubber was in her face again.

“Bite it, bitch!”

Crying, she did.

“Look at me, you fucking whore.”

He held her gaze as he pointed her gun back at the sandbag. His other hand pushed into her battered left breast and squeezed.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Again, his fingers crushed her nipple as he lifted her breast, slowly bringing the gun towards the underside of the heavy swell.

Sweat vaporized with a puff as he jammed the gun against her flesh.

“NGHEEEEEEE! NGH! NGH!”

Her lips pulled back from her teeth as she screamed into the slick rubber, spittle running over her chin as she struggled not to release it. Gamble took the opportunity to jerk her pelvis back to meet him, slamming his hips into her ass brutally as her body twisted with the torture, churning inside her clenching guts.

“Aw, sweet,” Gamble growled. “That's it- take it- that cock- in your ass- burn her-! Burn her! Hurt those tits!”

Collins gave the gun a twirl as he holstered it, pulling the second gun and pointing it.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Puffs of sand erupted from the bag where the bullets hit.

His hand wandered over her bosom, the flesh bouncing with each hurtful thrust into her backside. A soft patch of skin on the side of her right breast had managed to escape the multitude of beatings without mark or blemish.

“NGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

No longer.

“You must have one resilient ass, Croft,” Collins sneered. “Gamble looks like he's found a little piece of heaven.”

“Don't stop!” roared Gamble. “Don't fucking stop!”

BANG. BANG. BANG.

The previous time, Collins had sought out unmarked skin to mark with the barrel of the haughty Lady Croft's own gun.

Now, as he yanked her right breast upward by her tender nipple, he sought the angry mark of the previous burn.

The metal mashed into her flesh with a hiss.

“NNNNNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!... -No!”

The club tumbled once more from her mouth.

Gamble slowed his pace as he watched the scene unfold before him. Croft trembling on his cock, Collins squatting down to pick up the baton again.

The tip of the club went under her chin, lifting her head to look into his murderous eyes.

Her body shook as she looked back at him.

“Do it, you miserable bastard!” She sobbed.

His arm went back, and the baton connected with her right breast with a resounding WHACK.

Her scream had only trailed off as he came back with a second blow to her left breast.

Gamble pulled back to better slam his full length into her anal channel as the man before her began to savagely beat her delicate bosom. The force each man exacted on her bound frame only spurred the other on.

“Yes! Oh yes! Don't let up! Pound the bitch!”

“Force it up her ass! Fuck it open! Make her take every inch!”

Each THWACK of the club sent her tits swinging and bouncing, eliciting another screech as Gamble continued to lance his cock viciously upwards into her bowels.

And then Collins had the baton in both hands, and drove it like a battering ram into her belly.

“HNNNK-”

The taut muscles of the tomb raider's midriff had been pummeled, whipped, and stretched, enduring hour after hour of abuse. There was little resistance left in the muscular sheath of her abdomen to protect its delicate cargo, and the hard rubber penetrated deep.

Gamble was suddenly aware of her fragility; knew the creature impaled on his shaft could be permanently damaged by the assault. But as her butt spasmed around him, he ceased to care.

“Ahhhhh!... Again!”

THUD. “Huuuk-” THUD. “Nnnhhh!” THUD.

Yellow bile spilled over her lips. Blood spattered the ground between Gamble's legs.

Gamble seized the delirious woman's shoulders, yanking her upper torso backward as she reeled in her bonds.

“Take her, Collins. Take her!”

The hurt he had inflicted on her was his foreplay. Collins was hard as a rock. Peeling open his pants, he advanced on her, parted her thighs, and penetrated her to the hilt.

A terrible rhythm rose as both men drove into her unresisting body, deep and hard. Battering her womb and her bowels, tearing at the fragile perineal membrane that separated them. Her toned legs quivered, thighs splayed wide as the men brutally sought climax in her body.

Gamble's fingers clenched in her hair as he mounted his final assault. Her flesh rippled as he pounded into her, sodomizing her violently. With his final thrust, he yanked back, drawing her head back towards him, making her gasp.

“My seed mixes with your blood, Croft,” he whispered. “I am forever a part of you...!”

He remained inside her, cock bucking as he ejaculated in her bowels, as Collins found his own peak, hands cupping her breasts, nails biting into her burns. Flesh squeezed between his fingers as he painted her insides with his hot spunk.

“Ah...! Ha... Whoa. Huh. Hell, yes...”

She tumbled, limp, as they pulled out of her, drawn to a sudden and vicious halt as the chain holding her her arms went taut, sending a wave of agony through her shoulders. Her body shivered and shook with her sobs as blood-smeared semen dripped down her thighs.

“Hey, cheer up, Croft,” said Collins with a smirk. “I'm not half so mad at you anymore...”

Gamble laughed. “Which is not to say he won't get his temper back after a good night's sleep.”

“Don't worry, she's still a bitch. With all a bitch's needs.”

The men bumped fists.

Kalivas walked in towards the tableau, a steaming mug in his hand.

“Hey, Kalivas. Why don'cha pour the whole pot over the bitch?” urged Collins.

Kalivas rolled his eyes. “Don't be ridiculous. This is good coffee.”

He brought the mug up to the woman's swollen lips, slowly tilting the black liquid into her mouth.

“Awww. Isn't that sweet. You got a crush?”

“No... but I'd like her to be awake when I fuck her, asshole.”

“I already fucked her asshole,” chimed in Gamble.

“With such height of wit, you could be a jockey.” Kalivas shot back.

Lara swallowed gratefully, trying to tune out the conversation and what it foretold. It was the first thing that had passed her lips in eighteen hours that hadn't come back the same way.

“It might be all one to you whether you're having sex with a woman or a side of meat, but I prefer the women I'm penetrating to be aware of the act.”

The cup was still half-full when he pulled it away from her mouth. She moaned softly. It was the only bit of comfort she had gotten; what followed would be all the worse for it.

Kalivas took a long sip. “Ah, yes. That's good stuff.” Setting the cup aside, he drew a small bottle from his satchel. Lara stared at it with rising dread.

He laughed. “Oh, this isn't going to hurt you, Croft. Not directly. Hey, Favreau, you caffeinated yet? You're going to want to see this.”

The Belgian grunted assent and loped over to where the miserable woman hung.

Kalivas opened the stopper from the bottle and poured it over her torso, The gleaming, viscous fluid made her flushed skin shine. The Greek moved closer, hands resting on her trembling flesh as he began to rub it into her body.

“Just vegetable oil. Gives that slutty body of yours a certain sheen.”

His hands were neither harsh nor gentle, clearly putting enough pressure on her to show that he could hurt her more, and would in a heartbeat if he chose. Her breathing grew shallow and pained as he worked the oil into the myriad of bruises and welts on her skin, with special attention to the angry purple marks on her breasts.

When her body gleamed in the sodium lights, he pulled back a couple of paces to admire his work.

“Here's the deal, Croft. You're going to dance for us. You're going to shake those tits, and grind those hips, and turn us on like a stripper. You get five minutes to do so. If we're good and hard when you're done, Fav and I are going to double-team you. If not...”

Favreau smiled, opening his hand. An array of silver-white metal shafts lay in his palm on a piece of red velvet.

“Fav here is going to push pins into your tits. And possibly your clit. And then we're going to double-team you.”

Her vision blurred as her eyes widened with disbelief.

Kalivas turned up his wrist and smiled. “Four minutes, fifty-five.”

She struggled to get her feet underneath herself. Her left calf trembled, her knee threatening to buckle. She hopped for a second on her right, realizing it was ridiculous, the very opposite of sexy.

“Four and forty-five.”

Her feet shuffled, vaguely remembering childhood lessons in waltz, foxtrot, and tango that might have been a century ago. Dances for partners, and for polite illusions that courtship was far removed from carnality. Useless.

“Four and ten.”

The requisite ballet lessons. Lifts and pliés that were unachievable in her chains. Everything hurt, she was exhausted, how...?!

Favreau lifted one of the long metal pins. It shined in the light.

India. Egypt. Temple dances, fertility dances, the dances of prostitutes.

Her belly screamed at her as she shifted it, swiveling her hips in a slow circle. The pain reflected in delight on the faces of the men watching the chained beauty.

“Three-thirty.”

She twisted her shoulders, rolling her shining, swollen, beaten breasts, arching her back. Inviting them to take what they had already taken.

“Two...”

Her legs parted as far as they could in her chains, and she twisted and bucked her pelvis at them. Here. Here is my sex. I will be whatever you want me to be.

“One and thirty.”

Her breasts shook, smacking together as she cried out, desperate and hurting. Her hips moved, jerked, as though she were already under assault by some invisible lover. You want my pain? It's yours. I am yours to do with as you wish, please, hurting me further when I am willing to hurt and debase myself for you is madness...!

“Ten seconds.”

“Fuck me!” She wailed, her body shimmying in her chains in desperate pain. “Please, fuck me!”

“...And, time. Hmm.” Kalivas rubbed his hand over the bulge in his pants. “What do you think, Favreau?”

The Belgian looked at the pins and sighed, setting the bundle down on a chair. “I theenk ze leetle bitch can dance.”

“There's always next time.”

They closed in on her.

“Well, Croft. You win. We're going to fuck you. Does that make you happy?”

A tiny part of her was grateful. And she hated it.

“I want her cunt,” Favreau purred, hand pressing between her thighs.

“Oh, sure,” Kalivas growled. “Make the Greek guy take her ass.”

“Heh. You said eet, my friend, not me.”

“It's just a cliché, is all...”

The Belgian's arms slid under her thighs, lifting her to the extent the chains would allow, spreading her wide.

“Well, get to eet. Just because we are last, does not mean we should have to wait any longer.”

Kalivas moved behind her. His arms went around her ribs, beneath her breasts, helping to support her weight.

“On 'three'. One. Two...”

“UNGH--!”

Both men lunged forward, crushing her between them, spearing deep in her pussy and asshole.

“Heh. 'Zis must be ze benefit of fucking oon athlete. You would hardly know ze boss's arm had been in zere...”

“Fav? Shut up and rape the bitch.”

Exhausted, Lara did little more than moan as the two men savagely pumped away at her holes. She felt like her insides were being sanded away, the stickiness of dried blood and semen torn with each new thrust as her rapists used her.

As the last of her violators, the two men felt no need to hurry. She half-wished she might faint, gain even the briefest of respite from her torture. Favreau smiled at the sweet mixture of pain and exhaustion on her face, thrusting hard to make her breasts bounce above Kalivas's hold on her chest.

“Kalivas?”

“What?” snapped the Greek, grunting as he pounded away at her bottom.

“Could you take her legs, for a moment?”

Eyes rolling in exasperation, he moved his grip down her body to support her from beneath. Favreau smiled, his own grasp moving up to her jutting, tumbling breasts.

“Lady Croft? I have a confession to make,” the Belgian purred, his hips crashing against her pelvis.

He held up one hand before her face, turning it.

A single, long, surgical steel pin emerged from under his thumb.

“I am a terrible lie-air.”

Her eyes went wide as he seized her hitching right nipple.

“No...!”

She screamed in agony as the sharp metal slowly pierced the blood-charged nub. Moments later, thrusting hard, Favreau's seed erupted against her cervix.

When the Belgian twisted the pin, Kalivas gained his own climax in her bowels.

Only then did she pass out.

-TO BE CONTINUED-