The Butler's Assessment 1/2

~Latest Gossip is that Old and Past-It Lara Croft wanted to show the world she was still around by getting club-goers in London to give her a pity gangfuck~

Winston sighed and turned off his radio. The Countess of Abbingdon was turning out to be less like a real Croft and more like the late Lord Richard's whore DeMornay.

"Lady" Amelia was pitiful. A pathetic, needy little whore that offered her holes after he'd finished fucking her to get him to keep quiet about her behavior.

Ah... Lara had shown promise. She became the Tomb Raider, she saved the World! But it seemed that as soon as she entered her thirties... she refused to enter academia. She kept on adventuring, even when the ones hiring her became less respected, less glamorous, less legal.

He turned on the CCTV and saw Lara in the garage, getting hosed down by Miles the Driver like a filthy whore. Winston sighed again and opened a case, the one holding the **** kept on the Estate. Lara couldn't be trusted to hold onto her highs, lows, uppers, and downers.

After washing herself as best she could in her private room, Lara appeared downstairs, to grab some of the "sleeping pills" from her study she thought Winston didnt know about. She was greeted by her Butler, holding her pills and a bag of her coke.

"Have you had a good evening, my dear?. Winston said softly, expectantly. Lara felt her heart sink and nodded, getting down on her knees to crawl over to her Butler.

"Nobu paid for the statue. There was some... difficutlty with some Chinese Government Agents, but i was able to keep them from reclaiming their property." Winston chuckled and handed her the pills. Restorative stuff that fixed a person up overnight. Mildly addictive too. Winston walked around his employer and let his hand linger on her large buttocks.

"I believe we talked about appropriate sleepwear Lady Croft. So long as you **** me to pay the staff, you will dress in what I approve. And what is appropriate sleepwear?" He asked, causing Lara to wince in her baggy shirt.

"Th-the pink crotchless panties and Playboy pasties... so you c-can check the wetness of my stupid leaky p-pussy." Lara would have cried if the high from the pills wasn't kicking in. Her poor pussy was a gaping ruin from the statue and traffic cone. She didn't want another "Assessment".