She finally becomes of some use

The room was lit by a single lamp, its warm glow falling across a stack of aged scrolls. Ancient parchment, brittle with time, ink faded and mysterious. Lara knelt before them—still naked, her knees sore from nights spent on cold concrete, her body a battlefield of pleasure, ache, and humiliation.

Kratt stood behind her, silent, like he always was at first. Watching. Measuring. He didn’t need chains anymore. The control was already inside her.

"Read it," he said, finally.

She hesitated.

“Lara,” he warned, voice like a blade wrapped in velvet. “We both know how this works now.”

Jaw clenched, she leaned forward and unrolled the first scroll, muttering under her breath, "Bastard."

“I heard that,” Kratt said, walking around to her front. “But I’ll let it go. I enjoy your little attempts at rebellion. Like watching a bird flap its wings in a cage.”

Lara scowled, but she kept reading.

“The inscription is Mid-Akkadian—likely from the southern temple vault,” she said. “It refers to the Keeper’s Axis… a triangulation method used to conceal the Staff of—”

“Slower,” Kratt interrupted, stepping closer. “I want to savor this.”

He crouched beside her, gloved fingers brushing her jaw as she read.

“And don’t leave anything out, or I’ll start again. With you. From the beginning.”

Lara swallowed. Her throat tightened, but her voice didn’t waver. She hated how her heart pounded—not from fear. From want. The shame made it worse.

He leaned closer, murmuring, “It’s impressive, really. Even on your knees, humiliated and used, you still sound like an archaeologist. So professional. So… useful.”

“You don’t need to do this,” she snapped, glaring at him. “You already won.”

“Oh, Lara,” he said, smiling coldly, “needing isn’t the point.”

He took another scroll, unrolled it slowly, then placed it in front of her like a test.

“Translate. Thoroughly. And every time you moan, I’ll know you’re lying. Understood?”

Her breath hitched again. He knew her body too well now.

“Yes,” she muttered.

“Yes… what?” he asked.

“…Sir.”

“Good girl.”

The degradation burned, but it lit something else too. She hated herself for it. But her nipples stiffened against the chill. Her thighs clenched tighter.

She began again. Her voice wavering slightly now.

“It’s a map. Celestial alignments tied to solstice patterns… I think the next location is beneath the temple ruins in Aragon.”

Kratt made a pleased sound behind her. “There it is. That brilliant little mind… wasted for so long on integrity.”

He moved behind her again. She felt the leather glide down her back as he spoke, low and cruel in her ear.

“Do you feel it, Lara? That sick twist in your gut? That’s the part of you that knows you're mine now. Your knowledge, your body, your sass—I’ll drain it all from you.”

She gasped as he slid inside her, slowly, with maddening control.

“And you’ll give it to me,” he said, thrusting slowly, “Because you’re too far gone not to.”

“I hate you,” she whispered, panting.

He chuckled. “And yet your voice never lies, does it?”

He thrust again. Her breath hitched. Scrolls blurred before her eyes.

“Keep reading,” he ordered.

She did.

Each word a surrender.

Each moan a confession.

And each thrust—another artifact stripped from her soul.