Exploring the Croft Manor

Not for now, maybe not ever. She needed to keep as many of the items boxed as possible out of waning hope of getting a refund. Lara sipped her coffee, trying to twist and slide her way out of the mountain of boxes. When she stepped out the door of her room, a helper was still carrying some in. A young man, Spanish, even if she didn't recognize him, she saw his father's face in him. Winston worked fast.

"Is that the last of it?"

He shook his head slowly, he tried to answer her in less than the Queen's English.

"Much left, big number."

Lara slipped past him, thanking him but trying to get out of sight quickly. She sincerely hoped that Winston was the only person who knew what all was inside the things, but understood that might not be the case. Even if the help believed they were filling the fair lady's room with lost Picasso pieces, she didn't want to look them in the eye. She needed to be somewhere quiet while she got to grips with the morning. She stormed to the library in her bathrobe, it would be best if she got stuck in looking for some more of her father's journals.

The library was cold, as the oldest building in the manor and the one room that remained built of castle stone it was often that way. She lit a fire, it would warm things up quickly enough. Above the stone fireplace was the family tree, all portraits of the noble Croft men at the top, which became photographs nearer to the bottom until the line of noblemen ended with her. The first heiress apparent, it was odd to think that even one or two lines back, before the photographs became paintings, that she would never have been allowed a spot on the wall. She'd have been married off, her husband taking her spot until she gave him a son to follow. Becoming another unpainted woman forming the trunk for a new branch.

"Fat lot of good I've done with the title."

Of course, she wasn't the least impressive node in the line, when you could trace your lineage back to a noble in Edward Longshanks's court you had a number of battered bastards and inbred imbeciles to mark yourself against. Alfred Croft III had been slain in a duel of honor after sending his rival a letter filled with dung. William II had contracted the pox from what his wife insisted was either a goat or the hairiest whore any man had lain eyes on. Marcus V had drowned in a latrine collapse. Marcus VI died trying to fish him out.

"And here lies Lara, first female heir, buried in a sex toy cave in."

How had her ancestors passed the time when not crusading or perishing in excrement-related incidents? The good ones all seemed to have their lines end in war, others died drunk in the manor. It seemed like a lot of them died drunk in the manor, actually. When the grounds were big enough that it was hard to leave and nice enough that you didn't have to, what was there to do other than drink yourself under the catacombs? You either vanished into thin air like her father had or went out like Elvis. The Croft family tradition.

... Christ, she was morbid today. Looking at the bottle of Napoleonic wine her father had left at the side of the couch to await his return wasn't helping. Nobody wanted to move it, it was like a seat set aside for a noble ghost. Perhaps this was how traditions started. That or ghost stories. If the bottle ever got a little emptier, it was just Dick's spirit getting a little rosy-cheeked while he stalked the halls. Laura wasn't one for ghost stories, she had seen too many real ones. Ghosts didn't drink wine, and if they did then the fine notes of a delicately aged red would be wasted on them. Lara took a sip in defiance, it had been good wine at one point, but leaving it out and open for Richard after all of these years just made it taste... dusty. She set it back, perhaps one day people would describe that flavor as the lingering sensation of contact from beyond. But she had another bottle of the same vintage if she wanted to actually taste her wine. Actually, that didn't sound half-bad.

"Lara, it's nine in the morning, finish your coffee."

She took another drink of her coffee to get the taste of "Lord Richard's Ghost" out of her mouth. The warm afterimage of her shower had left her and now she was alone in a cold library in nothing but her bathrobe. She had been so insistent on being properly dressed no matter where she went the day before, was this what getting comfortable and lazy looked like?

The fireplace popped loudly and she jumped, she was still tight as a piano wire. Too tight to read, she told herself. Perhaps a workout and a massage, perhaps brunch and some wine. She did have a bottle of Napoleonic stuff down in the- No! Bad! No more thinking about wine until dinner.

She went back to her room, the fact that no more through traffic passed in the hallway told her that they had likely given her all of it. Stuffed her full, filled her up as it were. Lara pinched the back of her hand, somewhere in the world a gutter was trying to keep her from tearing her mind out of it. She stepped into her room, the door wouldn't close behind her. They had cleared enough of a path for her to get around from bed to closet to bathroom to door but in doing so they had been **** to offer everything else up as a sacrifice. She'd have to sort things out later, the room got drafty with the door open and the sounds of the manor had always woken her up as a child.

She stepped into her closet but it was proper lousy with boxes as well. She decided to set aside at least a few into her path back out so that she could get to her dresser. Fortunately, it seemed like doing so provided a decent modesty shield, handy when neither door would close. She slipped on some sweatpants and then popped on a trashy t-shirt, if she could make it back out to her gym, she had some wine to burn off. Few things were as good for a mild hangover as endorphins. She did her best to clear a path back out into her room but caused a cascade of boxes in the process.

"Work out, massage, lunch, spring cleaning."

She managed to half-swim her way back out of the boxes, pulling back out into the hallway and closing her door as much as she could behind her. She scrunched her toes in the heavy hall carpet for a moment, trying to center herself and focus on the rest of her day. There was something soothing about it, almost primal. Maybe it was like being a monkey again, getting in touch with the caveman side of her brain.

"What does my inner cavewoman want?"

Well, if she had to guess, it was to eat, sleep, and fuck. Maybe in that order, maybe not. The Croft manor didn't lack food and cozy beds. If she wanted she could probably lay in her bed and get meals delivered to her, whatever she wanted and whenever. If the ultimate endgame of the physiological part of Mazlow's pyramid was to be fat and wanting for nothing, she had an easier road ahead than most. But she didn't really want that, maybe she liked being able to move without a cart, maybe to a certain extent she took joy in her own body. Having an effect on men, making them do what she said. There were men who felt that way about all kinds of women, even ones that needed carts to move but being lean and curvy gave her the broadest appeal. Conventionally attractive ticked boxes for most, and it was hard to miss that the press and men in her life considered her a little more than conventional. If she wanted them, she could have them. And if they tried to **** it and take her power away, she was more than capable of making them think twice. Was that what power was? The ability to control when the eating, the sleeping, and the fucking happened?

"The lady Lara Croft, scorned by her ancestors in the queen's court and worshipped by the cave-dwellers."

What was wrong with that?

She walked through the garden on her way to the gym, the grounds crew had refreshed numbers and went at the long-neglected snatch of weeds with a vengeance. Winston worked with them, guiding the new hands in how Lara wanted her grounds to be treated. The new boy from earlier was there, he was a looker in a better light. Arms flexing, sweat dripping down his forehead, almond-colored skin gleaming in the morning sun. He worked his tools hard, but with the gentle care of using something he was afraid of breaking. But he didn't have to be gentle, the tools had been around, they could take it. If he wanted to, he could pound them, bite them, bruise them.

... Exercise, she was on her way to exercise. The gutter blew her mind another parting kiss. She gave a quick greeting to the crew before she ducked back down the arched walkway toward her gym.

She pushed herself mercilessly, she could recognize that it was harder than she usually liked to go. The benefit was that she wasn't thinking about much else. Sure, she noticed that she was seemingly sweating pure wine and coffee, but most of her thoughts were on the task. Making sure she could find that hand or foothold with less effort, ducking down and giving the dummy a vengeful uppercut more accurately and viciously, going a little faster than she needed to on the treadmill, lifting a little heavier, pushing a little harder.

By the time she was done she might have sweated out more than just her wine, she took a few steps toward the door and her legs buckled. She pulled herself along the floor to the wall, propping her back up against it. She wanted a shower badly, she could already feel the sticky sweat she had worked up seeping back into her skin and making her clothes cling and stick grossly to her. Why was today the day she was working herself like an animal?

"Is it self-punishment?"

Sure, she had a lot to be embarrassed about but maybe she was being too hard on herself. Though, most people stayed home their whole lives without blowing a portion of their life's savings on sex toys. Most people made it more than two days at home without their minds disappearing irrevocably into the gutter. Most people weren't jerking off wine-drunk on their first day of vacation.

... Okay, lots of people did that one. But why was she doing it? Sure, it was a hard life that she lead and it was one full of danger, but she didn't work some soul-sucking 9-5. What had she done to earn mindless self-indulgence in bed? She had one of the largest homes and fortunes in the world, what right did she have to be unhappy?

She was definitely being too hard on herself. She'd seen her father go through it too, not the wine-drunkenness and the mind in the gutter, though he had been a bit of a lothario, he'd always been unhappy at home. Before his last voyage out, he had spent a year locked down with some old injuries. For the first few months, he had only seemed to get worse. He hated the richness of it, he'd sneak out behind her mother's back and order fast food. Like he was raised in a barn and **** to wear a tuxedo. Another honor to the cavemen and curse to the queen's court. But he'd managed to turn it around somehow, he'd crawled out of the depths of it.

"It's about enjoying the nice things you have instead of looking for more."

And a month later, gone again. He never came back from that one either. Out looking for more, forever. Of course, it had never been confirmed that he was dead, he could still be out there. But after a dozen years on, you stopped setting out his nightcap.

Lara managed to pull herself back to her feet, the amount of gingerness she had to put on one leg told her she was definitely going to feel it for a while. She had stiffened like a rock, but she managed to hobble her way back into the main house. The sky had gone overcast, sending the gardeners inside for the day. She hated things being left without closure.

"Are you alright Madame?" Winston asked, placing a gentle hand on her back to help her up the stairs of the foyer.

"It's nothing Winston, just some stiffness, could you ring up the Masseuse?"

"Of course, do you need anything else?"

"Lunch when I'm done, something dense."

"And wine?"

"You would see me ruined." She answered with a flamboyant hand to her cheek.

"I merely know what the lady enjoys."

"Something light, I don't want to be too tight before dinner."

"And then after dinner? Shall I lock the bank account?"

"Oh hush."

Winston excused himself outside of her room, she shuffled through the boxes into the bathroom and turned on the shower. She peeled out of her workout clothes, only realizing after having done so that the bathroom door didn't want to shut either.

"If the shower door doesn't close, I'm calling it a conspiracy."

Fortunately, the folding glass door slid along the frame on the floor and ceiling behind her, giving her some tinted glass privacy inside of the walk-in corner of the room. The water came out cold, but she didn't turn up the heat, the massage room was usually pretty balmy and she'd warm up quickly. Besides, cold showers were good for sore muscles... and discouraged lingering to play with one's self. She didn't have it run icy, but it was cold enough to feel natural, like skinny dipping on a nice beach. It definitely made her nipples sharp enough to cut glass, but it made her crotch quiet down.

"Miss Croft?"

"Yes, Winston?"

"The masseuse is ready in the sauna next door, shall I deal with your clothes and leave a towel?"

"Is there not one out there?"

"There may be, but I suspect it has been buried under all of these boxes."

"Thank you Winston dear."

She heard him shuffle back out of the bathroom, speaking for a moment with somebody in the hall. She turned the water off, giving a single hard shiver as the cool air met her. She cracked the sliding door and found the pair of towels Winston had left. She dried and wrapped up her hair, then gave herself a quick once-over with the other before wrapping it around her chest. No need to be too thorough, she would dry in the sauna only to be covered in lotions and oils.

She took a few shaky steps out, bracing herself against boxes or the wall when she needed to. She caused another small cascade and barely escaped with uncrushed toes. After several agonizingly slow steps, she slid out into the hallway and popped into the sauna.

The massage table had been set up in the center and the room was decently warm, but Lara turned up the heat just a touch. She didn't want to start pouring sweat again, but she wanted the air nice and stiff. Too hot to fall asleep on the table, too cool to pass out on the table, a razor's edge of non-snoring discomfort. She settled onto the table, unfastening her towel to drape it around on either side.

Her masseuse stepped into the room with a quiet, shy "Hello."

She recognized the voice, propping herself up on her elbows she turned to see the new guy from earlier. He had changed into a more "massage-y" outfit, white slacks and a collared dress shirt. There was just a dusting of chest hair popping out of the undone top button of his collar.

"Oh, hello again. I don't know that I got your name."

"Jake Montoya," He offered back in a very small voice.

"Nice to meet you, Jake, you're Pedro's son, correct?"

Jake nodded.

"Do you not speak much English?"

Jake nodded.

"That's perfectly alright Jake, your father didn't speak a word when he started here, how is he?"

"Good, but he is old."

"Yes, he was rather getting up there the last I saw him. You are a massage therapist?"

Jake nodded, "Three years. Two learning."

"And how old are you now?"

"Nineteen."

"So you've been performing massages professionlly since you were eighteen?"

Jake nodded.

Conversations like this were not Lara's specialty, though she found herself in them often.

"Well, I'm afraid I've done a terrible number to my legs, I hope that your hands can help."

Lara regretted it as soon as it left her mouth and she drilled her tongue into her cheek as she set her head back down. Jake didn't say anything in response, merely grabbing his lotion and stepping to the side of the table. She jumped a little when the cold liquid hit her calve, but the feeling of large almost leathery hands calmed her back down. Jake's movements were slow, immensely strong but as gentle as if he were handling antiques. Soothing as it was, it wasn't going to do much for her muscles.

"I say, that feels wonderful but you needn't be afraid to be a little rougher."

Jake didn't respond, but she felt his fingers dig into her a little more forcefully. A dreamy little wave of joy came over her and she tried not to think about the fact that she was probably starting to get the table wet. She groaned involuntarily, Jake jerked his hands away like he had been burned.

"Sorry!"

"No Jake! That was good! Sorry to startle you. You don't need to hold back, I can handle a rougher touch."

He brought his hands back, excessively gently at first but being a little more forceful gradually. The harder he went, the more Lara encouraged him. She wanted him to be rough, she wanted his fingers deep... Oh christ she was a mess, wasn't she?

She felt a little guilty about her melting dreamlike state and burning horniness. That said, Jake's hands weren't helping. He rubbed low near her feet at first but as he worked his way up her thighs she felt her stomach tingling. She wanted him to touch her very badly, she wanted to jump up from the table and rip that stupid little shirt off of him. How long had it been since her last massage? Probably not as long as it had been since she'd buried somebody's face between her legs. His hands were climbing up her inner thigh, making her pussy scream. He always stopped just short. When he started to pull his hands away, she had to clench her teeth to keep from squirming off of the table and shoving him onto a bench.

"Jake, dear." She tried to sound as in control as she could manage. "Could you massage a little higher up on my legs?"

He was quiet for a moment. "No more leg left."

"Yes I know dear, I was more talking about my... rear."

"Did you hurt it?"

"I'm very tight between my legs as well dear, perhaps-"

"Not told it was that kind massage."

"Is that a problem?"

"No, done that kind before."

She felt him sliding the towel up to the small of her back, he took a moment to admire her well-shaped ass before switching out his lotion for slippery oil. The oil was warm when he drizzled it on her ass, his hands were warmer. Lara bit her lip but didn't manage to stifle the whimper completely. Jake took the same light-them-firm approach, starting with gentle rubbing that slowly and naturally managed to morph into firm massaging squeezes. His fingers would slip between her cheeks, thumb brushing oil teasingly against her back door. She had never done much buggery play, but the feeling of having it teased while her pussy wept for attention only made lighting surge up into her stomach more intensely. He spread her cheeks open softly, tracing his thumbs around her hole with feathering gentleness before she felt a slippery glob of oil hit it dead center. He pushed his thumb against the glob softly, applying just the barest pressure against her back door. He would press, circle around, and press just a hair harder. Eventually, the pressure was enough to make his thumb slide in almost unresisted.

While the pressure against her outsides had been a soft but consistent butterfly in her stomach, the finger inside of her made it leap up into her throat. She failed to stifle a whimper again, feeling his finger dig and press down against the walls of her ass with a well-maintained grace but harshness. She had to be absolutely soaked at this point, the table was going to need to be washed. With his thumb pressing down toward her pussy, his other fingers traced softly lower and lower. She almost jumped when his fingers finally brushed the edge of her slit, but he pulled them away just as fast. He slowly teased his way down. Then he pulled his fingers away, replacing them with his other hand. He pulled his thumb up and away from her pussy now as he traced her lips in soft circles.

"You... absolute tease." She grumbled out happily.

He spent far less time teasing her pussy before he pushed his first two fingers in. They didn't need to make Lara feel especially full, even if that's what Lara wanted. They pushed down toward the table, making slow back and forth gestures, almost threatening to come out as they pushed backward toward her clit, then going back deeper inside of her.

Her hands gripped the table, she felt like the electricity hitting her stomach was going to **** itself up and out through her head. She pulled her head up out of the circular brace and grabbed a mouthful of towel before dropping her head back down. She moaned and whined into the cloth with each movement. She was close, but Jake wasn't pushing her over the edge. Instead, he continued to **** her to ride at the crest of the wave. He slid his thumb out of her ass and pushed the first two fingers of his other hand in. Inside, he spread them apart to make her feel her asshole widen and stroked both of them down to her pussy. He started to stroke the fingers in her pussy faster.

Lara felt the balloon inside of her pop as "not enough" finally pushed her over the edge. Her fist pounded down onto the table as she heaved for breath. The first wave of pleasure that **** its way out of her made her vision go white. She wailed into the cloth, pussy and ass throbbing and pulsing with each hip-rocking thundercrack. Jake cooed in her ear like he was soothing a lost animal. Lara strained as the last few bursts of pleasure **** themselves out, then fell back into a happy puddle. She felt like she was going to pass out, she was sweating again.

Jake let her lie there in bliss, wiping his hands on the table and then rubbing her back softly. His hands were excessively gentle but the texture of them was rough like leather. Lara let the towel fall out of her mouth and gave a long, shuddering sigh.

"I'll... get you back for that." She offered drowsily.

She could feel the puddle that had formed on the sheet between her legs. She had squirted enough that the fabric couldn't wick it all up, that was a first.

A cold squirt of lotion hit her square between the shoulders and shocked her back to her senses. Jake went right back to her massage as if nothing had happened. He lifted the towel off of her back and set it on one of the sauna benches. She lifted her head as her rubbed the lotion in, when he circled around to her other side she could see the bulge he was trying to tuck away.

"Not so fast!" She quipped, grabbing his hand as she tried to jump to her feet.

She severely overestimated the strength in her legs, they buckled instantly under her and she collapsed onto Jake. They fell backward, Jake managing to keep his head from slamming into the wall as he fell back onto the sauna bench. She fell like a bundle of limbs into his lap. Graceful or not, she looked up at him from between his legs, where she had more or less intended to be. She unzipped his pants, reaching in to feel the red-hot cock he was trying to tuck up into his waistband. She saw a moment of surprise and uncertainty flash on his face, it was time to see how he liked being toyed with.

She pulled his cock out of his waistband and it came springing up into her face. Lara kissed it, starting at the base and moving up along it to the head until she kissed down onto the slit. She took her time, luxuriating it, bathing it with her tongue, getting herself worked back up. She tried to look into Jake's eyes as much and as often as she could. She could feel his pulse beating in his cock, his eyes were losing their uncertainty, becoming clouded over with lust. She teased her tongue around his head in circles, threatening to sink her lips around his thick head but not doing it.

When she did, he groaned deep in his throat. She could taste his precum oozing out readily, she tried her best to take more of him down her throat but he was damned thick. She did the best she could, stroking his base quickly while she bobbed on and licked what she could fit in her mouth. His eyes grew tight, anxious, she could feel his pulse getting faster. He started to squirm.

"Soon!" He winced out.

She popped him back out of her mouth, circling his head with her tongue again. His cock throbbed rapidly. She put her hands on his thighs and tried to wobble to her feet, she was getting there but it was slow. Jake either saw she needed help or got tired of waiting. He stood up, squeezing her tight to his chest and wobble-walking her back over to the massage table. He let her fall back onto the table and her legs flopped around his waist, pulling him in. He stroked his cock up and down her slit a few times before sliding it in. Even wet as she had ever been and covered inside and out in massage oil, he was impressively thick and made her feel almost uncomfortably spread.

"Fuck! Slow!" She gasped.

Jake listened, pulling and pushing very gently at first, merely admiring the feeling of her hot insides stretched skin-tight around him. When he started to apply some more **** and speed, his hips slapped wetly against her with deep scraping thrusts. His cock curved upward seemingly just right to drive her wild. As soon as she adjusted to him, she wanted him to rearrange her insides. She told him as much, he picked up speed.

His white slacks were ruined, no two ways about it. Between the spit, wetness, and massage oil he was better off without them. In between thrusts, Lara tried to reach between her legs and pull his pants down. Jake grabbed her intruding wrist and then the other, pressing them down on either side of her head and angling his thrusts downward as he loomed over her. Lara felt her balloon popping again looking up into his eyes. Her back arched and pushed her breasts up into him as her pussy clenched around him. Her fingernails dug into her palm, eyes closed and rolling up into her head. She only breathed in panting gasps, lining up in time with his outward motions and being pushed out of her by his cock.

He made a strained, almost injured noise as he gave a couple of harsh pounding jerks and burst inside of her. His cum was boiling hot inside of her, churning and seething its way through her pussy. Jake collapsed onto her as his hips twitched with each pulsing splash. With each new gush, his cock would pump inside of her. She hadn't been fucked like this in too long, she hadn't been bred like this ever before. It felt like Jake was emptying every drop his body could make into her. When he finally gave his last few weak spurts, he tried desperately to catch his breath.

"Sorry," He said, letting go of her wrists.

Lara wrapped her hand around his neck and pulled his head down beside hers. "Don't be darling, you were wonderful."

Jake caught his breath and straightened up, sliding his drooping manhood out of her. When he was free, Lara felt him come dribbling out. He tried to slide his cock back inside his pants nonchalantly and straighten himself up. Then he handed Lara her towel back and helped her stand.

"Do you not pregnant?"

Lara laughed despite herself, remembering how childlike and innocent his grasp of English was. "I am on birth control, yes."

She tried to walk on her own but found her legs still didn't want to work. She had Jake help her over to her room and into bed.

"Could you go tell Winston to bring my lunch up to me? Tell him my legs are hurt worse than I thought."

Jake nodded and disappeared down the hall. When Winston arrived he was, of course, worriedly doting. Even as she assured him time and time again that she was fine and he needn't call for a doctor, he didn't leave her to eat her lunch in peace. Only after she was finished and he left her with an icepack did she manage to convince him that he had other things that needed doing.

Her eyes were tired, she wanted to close them for just a moment. She wasn't going to sleep, not this early, but she just wanted to rest them.