Tomb Raider: Lara Croft in Surania
Surania is a small and almost unknown Central American republic. In its territory are hidden some of the largest archaeological treasures. However, until now no one has dared to explore them. A succession of military governments, each more violent and corrupt than the previous one, had relegated it to absolute poverty and turned it into a country too dangerous to breathe in. Narcotraffickers and guerrillas composed its fauna, and local authorities were even worse. Defined by National Geographic with the words it's like Somalia, but poor, even air routes diverted to avoid flying over its territory.
It was therefore that Lara had to rent her own plane.
And it wasn't exactly a gem. An old bomber from World War II that seemed incapable of flying. However, it was the only alternative; the rest of airlines and even private pilots refused to go to Surania. The owner of the battered bomber, a bald and sweaty man named Bruce, refused to land.
- Once we're near the destination point, I'll open the door and you jump.- said Bruce after agreeing on the price - Bring your parachute, ma'am.
These were abusive conditions, especially considering the enormous amount he had charged her, but it was the only alternative if she wanted to go to the destination point. That is, to the last secret city of the Mayan Empire. So secret and extraordinary that instead of being composed of buildings, it was carved out under the jungle and traversed by underground rivers. It had been discovered a few days earlier. Now, all the greedy paramilitaries, mercenaries, and wretches from the region were heading there to plunder everything. Everything Lara could get in time to save, of course.
The start was promising; a flight without mishaps until the chosen enclave. However, as they approached the destination point, Bruce left the controls to his second and directed himself to the rear of the old bomber. He did it carefully, since the launch hatch was already open.
There, where sixty years ago bombs traveled that annihilated the Third Reich, there was only a huge metal container, about two meters square. Inside went the best survival equipment money could buy. The best provisions, the most resistant boots and some of the deadliest arms. However, the deadliest of all was not in the container, but next to it, with his arms crossed, looking at the landscape through the hatch.
Lara wore a parachute and sunglasses. And nothing more... except for the paratrooper suit. But his wasn't standard; it was made of a material incredibly light and so tight that, more than a monkey, it was a second skin.
Taking advantage of her gaze at the landscape, Bruce enjoyed that body. The aristocratic face, proud... His neck was a beautiful line that descended and descended until it became two enormous and firm breasts that defied gravity. Those juicy tits gave way to a smooth belly and a narrow waist from which wide hips emerged. As for the glutes... god, they made him want to bite them. The calves and shins were feminine but powerful.
Bruce was still licking when Lara's voice startled him:
- Magnificent view, isn't it? - she asked.
With sunglasses on, it was impossible to know if he had caught her or simply referred to the tropical landscape at his feet, but her tone of voice had a point of irony.
Bruce scratched his prominent belly and opted for innocence.
- Yes, - he said, standing next to her. Very close. - It's a beautiful land. But it's hard and dangerous.
- I also am. - Lara affirmed, with a cough as if searching for a polite way to say something unpleasant.
- I don't know, woman - he murmured, emphasizing the last word -. I suppose you're saying that '... They will have filled their heads with modern ideas, but in this place a woman needs a man to take care of her... that she can... Bruce was approaching the hand to that spectacular ass. He didn't get to have pleasure; suddenly he found himself on his knees, with the woman twisting his arm against his back.
- Aaaaaah! Foxy! Slut! - she profaned, almost spitting out each word.
- That's not nice - observed Lara, then forcing the key until it was almost at the point of breaking. Bruce passed from groaning to howling.
Lara didn't usually show herself so cruel; lethal yes, but never sadistic. However, that individual had repulsed her since the beginning. Maybe it was his repulsive face, his enormous and bald head, or always wearing dirty pants and a sweaty undershirt that seemed overwhelmed by his hairy belly. Or maybe it was the expression of covetousness and meanness on his face. Not from lascivious glances; Lara was more than accustomed to those. At most, he was an aggravator.
Whatever it was, Lara took her time before releasing him from her grasp. Bruce fell to the ground, then directing a look loaded with rage at her. The kind of anger that arose not from pain, but from humiliation.
But this didn't intimidate the tomb hunter, who simply smiled while positioning herself behind the container.
- Come on, Bruce, don't take it personally; it's just business. Go fulfill your part.
Surprisingly, the pilot nodded and began explaining how the container functioned... but this time keeping his distance.
- Everything you need, arms, clothes, food, and more, is inside; but it weighs too much, so we'll drop it separately - he explained -. Now we'll push it between us through the hatch. It has an automatic parachute with an altitude meter; at five hundred feet it will open. You try to land near. Here - pointed to a lock - is the point of opening. Use this. - and offered him a metal collar with a key.
Lara put it on... neck and, in a little thoughtless gesture, he opened the zipper of his suit. The zipper started below the chin and ended at the crotch, but, of course, Lara had only opened it just enough for the key to be lodged between her breasts. Then she went back up again, facing Bruce's gaze once more inflamed by the view.
She directed a look of disdain at him and turned to push the container down the ramp. In a strangely chivalrous gesture, Bruce helped her.
Nothing else disappeared from view before Lara took off after it.
Bruce stayed there for a few moments, contemplating the void left by the team and the archaeologist. Then he headed to the cabin and picked up the radio.
- The woman is on her way over – murmured into the microphone -. Quadrant 56. We'll see each other at the agreed meeting point for payment…
Lara maneuvered in mid-air like an expert, ending up just a few hundred meters from where the container carrying her equipment had stopped. Her parachute's rope got tangled in the treetops; Lara simply released herself and fell to the ground on her feet, like cats, flexing her knees to absorb the impact.
The tightly fitting suit she was wearing served primarily to protect her from the extreme cold of the upper atmosphere. However, in the humid heat of the jungle, it became stifling, and Lara set off towards her equipment, where more suitable clothes awaited her for that scorching heat. But the heat wasn't the only reason for her haste: she was also worried about carrying only the suit and the collar with the container key stuck to her skin.
And besides, she was in Surania. Danger hung in the air. The jungle she was advancing through was populated by tall tropical trees whose fronded canopies left the jungle in shadow even at midday. She could hear monkey cries, distant roars and close whispers. But worst of all, this was a zone of guerrilla activity, drug trafficking... Now, of mercenaries who were looking for the same thing as her. The situation was extremely dangerous.
Any other person would be intimidated, but not she. Lara's pace was fast, but secure and agile. Her feline gaze scanned the jungle shadows with attention, but without unease, and the strong beats of her heart were a product of tension, not fear.
In reality, she was enjoying herself. Enjoying the danger. She was an authentic addict to risk; what else would bring a young and wealthy woman to the most savage corners of the planet? Only adrenaline from being on the limit; the excitement of facing the most dangerous men in the world and the sense of power from defeating them.
She arrived at a stream; she remembered having seen it since falling. When she was in the sky, it had seemed like nothing, but now she found herself with a wide and fast river. She also remembered that the team had fallen just a few meters away.
Lara crossed it without difficulty, jumping from rock to rock, from ledge to ledge, with her legendary agility. The furious waters below did not reach her, and she reached the other side executing a somersault in mid-air. Pure exhibition, but she needed to stretch her muscles, or so she told herself.
Nothing more than lifting her head caught something like a buzzing. In reality, she had been listening to it for a while, but she had dismissed it as just a background noise typical of the jungle: mosquitoes, wasps...
Engines, she said to herself.
Any other person would have had a panic attack, but Lara, instead of staying there listening with terror to what was approaching from behind her, looked at what was in front of her: a brief interval of vegetation followed by a vast plain, product of some recent fire. And, in the center of that immense clearing, a metallic reflection.
The container.
There, about three hundred meters away, were her weapons, survival equipment, and clothes. Any other person would have... running with trembling legs in the direction of the container. Lara limited herself to analyzing the situation with absolute coldness. The rumble of the motors was close enough to distinguish their nature: military vehicles. And they were advancing towards her.
Lara Croft limited herself to smiling.
An impartial observer would think she hadn't heard the motors, or if she had, wouldn't understand what they meant. Not at all: Lara had a very clear vision of what was approaching: two Jeeps, military off-road vehicles, full of mercenaries with guerrilla uniforms. Sweaty, strong, and violent men, with identification tags hanging from their necks and machine guns between their hands. They weren't professional soldiers, no. Those dirty and illiterate individuals were recruited among the region's criminals, lacking all discipline or morality. Their only code was brutality and depravity.
A terrifying threat, undoubtedly... for anyone else. But Lara had calculated the situation with absolute coldness: those beasts would still take between 15 and 20 minutes to reach her. It would take her just 10 minutes to get to the equipment and change. Time enough, she said with a confident smile as she unzipped the suit. Without haste, she was freeing her impressive body from that suffocating suit.
The first thing to catch the eye were her exuberant breasts, so large and firm they collided with each other. Her flat stomach, with a delicious navel, was framed by a narrow waist whose lines opened up to end in broad hips; the zipper continued descending until it reached her pubis, which Lara had shaved to better withstand the tropical heat.
The suit finally released her rounded buttocks, descended down her spectacular and powerful legs, and ended at her feet. Lara left it without giving it a glance.
But instead of heading towards the clearing where her equipment awaited... team, the powerful heroine turned towards the river and dedicated some moments to pouring water from the river onto her head and body; it was a sticky, stifling heat, and drops of sweat ran down her white skin.
The buzzing of the motors continued to increase in intensity every second. They were already close. Very close.
Lara finished refreshing herself and stood up again. Much better, she said to herself as she stretched her body with sensual feline movements, finally heading towards the clearing.
As soon as she stepped out into the open field, a warm breeze caressed her nudity. The distant rumble of military vehicles had become a nearby roar, and she had to admit to herself that she had miscalculated; less than seven minutes separated the completely exposed heroine from her pursuers. However, Lara did not worry. She didn't even quicken her pace. Between her bare breasts hung the key to the container, and with that security, she simply smiled.
Come on, come on...
The container was already just a few steps away. Maybe those devils were faster than she expected, but that didn't change anything. All she needed were a few seconds to dress and gear up. And then...
Then it would start.
Finally, she reached the side of the container. The correct side, too. As if she were predestined. She quickly located the lock. Now all she had to do was use the key and gain access to her instruments of death: her legendary twin pistols.
Instead of rushing, she dedicated a final glance to her back. In the distance, the swaying of the trees already betrayed the approach of the military vehicles; their arrival was imminent. Fifty seconds, she said to herself. They would arrive just in time to receive the metallic kisses from her bullets.
Poor wretches...
Those rabid dogs were only forty seconds away from meeting a haughty and imperturbable woman called Lara Croft, capable of walking through abysses, advancing through flames, and kicking the balls out of... the toughest guy around here. Thirty seconds. He picked up the key with parsimony from between his breasts, and carefully pulled it off his neck to avoid getting it caught in his eternal beard, and then he unlocked it. Then he inserted it into the lock with a firm pulse and predatory smile. Then he turned it, like starting an engine: that of a perfect combat machine that… The key refused to turn. His smile faded from his face, but he remained calm. He applied more force to the gesture. The key didn't move. Behind it was growing the roar of motors. Fifteen seconds. With an empty stomach, I tried again on the opposite side. Useless, it wouldn't open. He pulled out the key with a trembling hand due to effort and tension. He examined it with wide eyes; it didn't seem broken or worn down. He put it back in. Ten seconds. It wasn't opening! He turned it to the left with both hands, using all his strength. Come on, come on! Joodeeeeer! His hands finally turned. The feeling of relief was so great that Lara took an instant to understand that she was only holding half a key. It was broken. With enormous eyes of panic, she looked at the piece of metal in her hand. Auron mark, she could read. The other half of the key was stuck in the lock. A Ford lock. Her mind traveled back an hour to the plane, when Brunce had given her that key with a smile. No...no can be... I... The jeeps burst into the clearing and skidded to a stop beside the container, one on each side, with screeching tires. They hadn't even stopped completely before the mercenaries were already rushing down. They didn't take a second to surround her. They... There were about twenty of them. Their uniforms were filthy, and each wore it differently. Many had removed the upper part, revealing an authentic collection of tattoos and scars. The homogeneity typical of a professional army was absent, even The physical: some were thin, others fat and one slightly misshapen. The only thing they had in common was a coarse expression on their faces.
And, facing them all, was Lara. If she was afraid, she didn't show it; she stood upright, with an haughty face and fire in her gaze. Her only gesture of weakness was trying to cover herself with her hands: the right hand over her breasts, compressing them, and the left hand placed on her pubis. Otherwise, she was exposed to their gazes...and they took a long time to look at her. Enjoying it.
Finally, a fat and bearded man stepped forward. His face had an expression less idiotic than the rest, and she deduced that he was the leader.
- Hands on the back of your neck, girl. – ordered him. His voice had a South American accent, of course. He smiled with arrogance, but his expression disappeared as the seconds passed and his prisoner continued to cover herself.
- The hands – insisted he, with some anger. As if responding to the voice of her master, the safeties on the machine guns clicked.
Trapped, Lara obeyed. Her hands left their positions and met in the back of her neck, where they intertwined. The real posture emphasized her prominent breasts, for the greater pleasure of those disgusting ones, whose lascivious gazes no longer had any obstacles to explore all her body.
For Lara, it was, by far, the most humiliating situation of her life. Unable to hide her rage and helplessness, she lowered her gaze to the floor. The bearded one took advantage of the opportunity: he rushed at her and, before she could react, he had handcuffed her hands, which ended up on her back.
- Bastard! – she spat at him. The bearded one simply pushed her to the ground, where several of those repulsive little men immobilized her face down. It took many to achieve it.
Before Lara's incredulous eyes, the fat and bearded man began to unbutton his pants. She struggled with more fury, trying to free herself; the mercenaries held her tight. One of them, thin and with a face of rat, took advantage to caress her breasts; she looked at him with hatred and spat at him. The face-rat retreated.
Then it was the bearded one, already with his cock in the air, who descended upon her, crushing her with his corpulence. Unable to move, she turned her face, but failed to stop seeing the furious and excited expression of that despicable face as he opened her legs. Then he advanced. Lara tried to close them again, but only managed to entwine them around the bearded one's body.
This dedicated a few moments to handling that impressive female body, especially enjoying her breasts. He caressed them, squeezed them, compressed them... and they hardly yielded. They were incredibly firm.
Finally, he abandoned her nipples and moved his hand to position the penis in the correct direction. When he noticed the pleasant warm moisture on the glans, he knew it was time and pushed slowly. Lara felt the cock slowly entering the most intimate part of her being, and twisted again. She tried to free her hands, which remained manacled on her back. She clenched her teeth. Cramped her legs. Searched desperately for the muscle that would close off the invader's passage, but couldn't find it, and the bearded one, with a victorious grunt, penetrated her.
Then he repeated the thrust. The grunt. She, unable to avoid it, moaned. Then again. And again. Both were drenched in sweat. While he was enjoying himself, the others whistled, laughed, and cheered, but she was only aware of being forced.
At one point, the bearded one lay down, dragging her onto himself, so that she sat on him, still being penetrated. Then he grabbed her with force by the hips and began to lift and lower her at his pace. She, unable to free her hands, discovered herself unable to repress her moans of pleasure. Her breasts trembled with each new impact.
Aaaah...aaaah... Caaabroon – she murmured, biting her teeth. She felt a powerful sensation rising up her belly. Asqueroso… Oooh… Son of a slut …Don't fool me.
Then she stiffened her back, raised her face to the sky and let out a colossal scream. The others accompanied her with cries of victory and shots in the air. The orgasm had been tremendous.
Defeated, she collapsed onto her violator, who continued to use her until he reached his own climax - …ooOOOOh… what a pleasure…- and then threw her aside. Her excited companions cheered the end with applause and whistles. Some even approached to pat their sweaty leader on the back, shake his hand and help him get up.
Lara listened to the commotion dazed on the floor, looking at the sky, feeling dirty and defeated. Completely humiliated. Suddenly she felt new hands on her breasts, and when she looked down she found herself face to face with the ugly rat's face. Her companions were still celebrating their leader's victory, and the very bastard thought he could take advantage of the situation.
Lara, seeing that despicable face, its idiotized expression, felt a new surge of disgust, revulsion. But she was exhausted, and limited herself to feeling like that rat was fondling her with pleasure. A long time later, he penetrated her. Tears of rage and helplessness rolled down Lara's face as that disgusting creature twisted inside her, enjoying her until he came...
All day long, every one of the twenty guerrilleros had their moment with Lara Croft.
Only when the last of them finished screwing her did they pick up the gear and leave, not without loading the container onto one of the jeeps - the loot, boys -. They left Lara on the floor, soaked in sweat and semen, completely exhausted. They abandoned her there, tied up, in the middle of the jungle, to die.
However, Lara didn't comply.
It took her two more months to get out of Surania, after passing a real hell, but she got out. And as soon as she had recovered, she returned. More strong and powerful that never. With fire in her gaze. Decided to recover her pistols, and to obtain her revenge. And boy did she get it…
But that's a story I'll tell you another day.
Those who are fans and admirers of the powerful and sensual tomb thief should stop reading at this point. Just close the page while telling themselves that Lara always manages to win everything and everyone, and this time wouldn't be an exception.
For a legendary character, reality is what we know. The only thing needed is to stop reading, and Lara will remain victorious, as proud and untouchable as always. But if you keep going…
Don't do this.
Don't continue
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