Gromet's Plaza Bondage Stories
Bondage Adventures of Lara Cross
by John Roper
tizerup2thriller@aol.com
© 2006 - John Roper - Used by permission
storycodes: MF/ff; bond; bagged; kidnap; reluct/nc; X
Bondage Adventures of Lara Cross by John Roper MF/ff; bond; bagged; kidnap; reluct/nc; X
As artifact hunters went, Lara Cross was not what one would call your physically and mentally ‘typical,’ self-educated soldier of fortune. Stunning good looks and gorgeously put together dimensions camouflaged well her high IQ and quick-witted thinking in a way that almost always cause antagonists and friendlies alike to stand in awe of her assertive qualities and deliberately constructed persona. 

Everything she chose to wear, both socially and professionally, was tight fitting, which only made matters worse, where jealous women and gawking males were concerned. But that is precisely the effect Lara sought to project when dealing with anyone who crossed her path. Not that she was a tease or high-end slut on the prowl. She just loved and hated being a woman in a male dominated world, and did whatever it took to level the playing field of that double standard in a way that often gave her a marginally unfair, but very necessary advantage.

It was a cooler-than-usual night in Cairo. Lara had managed to gain illegal access to a warehouse on the outskirts of town, where she had learned, from dubious sources, that several items of extremely valuable Egyptian jewelry, dating back to a long lost dynasty, had been stashed for safe keeping. What brought Lara to the warehouse was the fact that not more than a month earlier, the precious items were in her possession. She’d spent almost a year tracking down and digging them out of a tomb, the location of which was known only to her and a trusted associate. 

‘Where could they be?’ wondered Lara Cross as she carefully and silently navigated the wide aisles of the warehouse in her black, skin tight, spandex jump suit, blinking a tiny flashlight on and off whenever her instincts suggested she read the fine print on some of the newer looking crates. It was logical to assume the dust covered ones were not recent arrivals.

“What have we here?” she whispered to herself when Lara’s intuition focused on a small but curiously colored box nestled in an out-of-the-way corner of a dimly lit section.

She immediately holstered the flashlight and pulled a small crowbar from the other side of her utility belt. While she worked to pry open the box, her instincts again intruded, causing the seasoned pro to wonder why her psychic hackles had been raised above normal.

‘Hmm, must be a night watchman,’ she figured while super carefully sitting on the floor and listening for an audio indicator or two. 

A few minutes passed before she stood and thought it safe enough to continue the adrenaline-rushing business of opening the box, which sat atop a crate that put it waist high, but didn’t look like any of the others in the warehouse. ‘Interesting.’ It, too, was dust free, as was the crate under it.

When the top finally came off, Lara lowered herself and it to the floor, replacing the crowbar into its belt holster as she reached again for the flashlight. A layer of packing straw rested on what she hoped would be the Egyptian jewelry she’d worked so long and aggressively to unearth. A tiny smile of satisfaction blessed the PhD’s beautiful features as her eyes lit up at the sight of what was under the straw.

But before Lara could reach for it, a hair-thin beam of intense, red light crossed her vision field, tipping off to the unmistakable fact that someone obviously had Lara in his or her site. 

“Good evening, Ms. Cross,” spoke a gentlemanly sounding voice from behind the tomb raider’s back. “Find what you’re looking for?”

His arch enemy said and did nothing, but kept her senses finely tuned to the moment, hoping to develop some kind of escape scenario that would put her out of harm’s way as quickly and safely as possible.

“And if I have?” she dared.

“Then that makes two of us,” said the man whose voice Lara was beginning to recognize. “How sloppy of you to not notice the weight-sensitive mechanism in the crate under the box.”

‘Shit,’ thought Cross before the beam of red light rose from her chest to the center of her forehead.

A glance to the right and left revealed that the crates were stacked higher on the other side of the aisle, making hers a safer bet. Since Lara was in a crouching posture, a spring-loaded tactic seemed to be the best avenue of escape to pursue. 

But before the final details could be worked out in Lara’s head, a voice behind her said, “I wouldn’t do anything foolish if I were you.”

She did it anyway by again trusting her instincts and launching herself up and over the crate atop which the jewelry box had been perched.

Since no shots were fired, it was also safe to figure the competition was hoping to take her alive. This, plus their obvious reasons for doing so, flashed through Lara’s thinking as she jumped from crate to crate toward the window she’d forced open to enter the warehouse, hoping to dive through it, and to freedom. But the closer she got to the aisle between the stacks and the window, the lower the crates got, making a successful leap a near impossible feat. 

Undaunted, Lara unhooked and let go of her utility belt, took a deep breath, and went for it, flying from point A to point B in one, last, desperate effort to escape.

“Uhuh!”

Unfortunately, four strong arms, grabbing and wrestling her to the ground, rudely and roughly interrupted the arc of her reckless traverse. Their underestimation of Lara’s strength quickly required a third and fourth protagonist to enter into the fray.

“Give it up, Cross,” suggested the gentlemanly sounding voice Lara now recognized, giving her the perfect reason to fight like a wildcat, rather than succumb to the likes of a man whose reputation clearly placed him atop her avoid-at-all-cost, shit list.

“Bring her to me,” ordered the man with the silvery tones.

A bloody nose and several hard kicks and punches to the groin did little to stop Lara’s abductors from standing and dragging her to the self-satisfied smile on the face of the thief in charge.

“High heeled boots do have their disadvantages,” quipped Lara’s worst enemy.

She glared back at him, kicking and struggling wildly as she emptied her hatred into the perilous situation. “I swear, before I die, the point of one of those boots will be rudely and maliciously kicked up your bastard ass.”

The man’s smile quickly turned to determined dissatisfaction. “Let’s cut to the chase. You have what I want. Are you going to give it to me, or do we have to get nasty?”

“Turn around and bend over,” retorted Lara Cross before launching herself into one more fruitless escape attempt.

“Bind her,” ordered her fiercest competition.

The sound of his order bounced around Lara’s thinking for all of a split second before a jolt of surprising, sensual energy impacted her favorite erogenous zone. A second later, one of the thugs proceeded to bind her ankles together, inspiring a second, more arousing jolt of unexpected response.

‘Woah,’ commented Lara to herself.

No one had ever bound her before; though a bondage fantasy or ten had invaded Lara’s thinking enough times to plant the seed of erotic curiosity into the virgin soil of her, as of late, somewhat undernourished sex life. She instinctively fought to avoid the imprisoning of her lower legs, only to double the sexually pleasurable consequences her actions were now co-controlling.

‘Wow, this is weird.’

“Bind her well, and don’t worry about cutting off her circulation.” spat the boss. “I’m gonna get back to her lap top.” (They had ransacked Lara’s hotel room not more than a half hour earlier.)

While her elbows were tied together with several tight turns of thick rope, she watched Wellington Trent slowly turn and leave.

‘Son of a bitch.’

Meanwhile, the fire between her legs intensified with betraying moisture, while she fought the inevitable and felt the harsh pressure of a strange smelling wad of cloth against her lower face. 

“This should make things less strenuous,” said one of the thugs just before the tomb raider passed out.

40 Minutes Later

The first thing Lara noticed as she woke from her chloroform-induced, unconsciousness was a dank, musty odor, suggestive of an atmosphere not unlike that of a not-often-frequented enclosure. The second realization came in the form of an intense elongation of her lower face, created by what felt like a mouthful of highly compressed stuffing of some sort. It was held in place by several cruelly applied turns of duct tape.

As her head cleared, Lara become intimate with her bound and gagged circumstance. Thick, rough ropes welded her arms and wrists together behind her back. Several more turns bound them to her torso, above and below her billowing breasts, and at the waist as well. The zipper on the front of her jump suit had been pulled down to the crotch. Since she wore no underwear, the effect made for some very provocative eye candy, and, since she hadn’t been killed yet, suggested Lara’s keepers were as interested in her formidably feminine attributes as they were in other treasures she might have found and hidden elsewhere on the planet. 

They left her sitting on a two-foot-high shelf in a closet. Vertical shelves, to her right and left, had kept the stunning damsel from falling over. Lara’s legs, also, were tightly cinched together at the ankles, upper calves and lower thighs with more thick rope and several, well-tied, out-of-reach knots.

The gag was particularly nasty. She could neither open nor close her mouth any further than its hard-pressed stuffing was designed to disallow.

‘Good God,’ thought Cross as she squinted to catch a glimpse of light, people, whatever through the closet door slats in front of her. ‘Those guys went NUTS with these ropes.’

A slight numbing sensation had already begun to creep into her thumbs. ‘Only a matter of time before I lose the use of all ten of them.’

The more Lara tested her bondage, the more turned on she got; the more she was convinced there was little time to waste. Her first autonomic response was to Karate kick the door open. Its slats gave way easily, falling apart until the lock had no frame to hold onto. She stood and threw her body against what was left of the door, losing her balance as she went crashing through it and onto the floor of the room on the other side.

“Muh!”

When she looked up to get her bearings, another door opened in front of Lara’s gaping eyes. A glaring light and the outline of a tall, strong figure suddenly filled the tomb finder’s visual perspective. It was Paula Trace, the operative who’d been assigned to keep Cross out of trouble until a decision had been made about what to do with the annoyingly well informed, but uncooperative damsel.

“So you wanna play, do you,” said Trace while Lara squinted and tried to follow her keeper’s agenda, which now moved to a chest in a far corner of the tiny room. “Well, we’ll just see about that.”

Before Lara’s eyes could adjust to the sudden change in room illumination, Paula hog-tied her tightly, forcing the wrist cinch as close to her bound ankles as the leg ropes would allow. Several, unreachable knots assured the well endowed artifact hunter’s improved immobility would keep her on the floor, and totally helpless, for as long as was necessary.

“That should prevent you from making anymore trouble for a while,” assured Paula as she reached for another length of rope, rolled her captive onto her side, and tied one end to the waist circles with three tight knots in front. The other end was threaded between Lara’s upper thighs, over and under the hog-tie line, and back between her legs. It was pulled out and threaded under the front of the waist ropes before every last inch of slack was lost and secured there with another three tight knots. 

The pressure on Lara’s crotch sent a sudden jolt of sensual energy racing through every erogenous zone in her bound and bothered body.

‘Good grief,’ she realized, ‘I hope this bitch isn’t trying to turn me on, ‘cause if she is, she’s doing a damn fine job of it.’

The sound of a cell phone ringing sent Paula into the other room. “Yes?... Really?...Then what am I supposed to do with HER?...You’re sure?...Right.” 

Lara watched as her binder walked back into the room. “No, I don’t mind.” She gave Lara a curious smile. “I don’t mind at all.” 

Paula broke the connection and punched in a number. “Hi. What are you doing?...Good. I have a deal for you, to repay that favor I owe you. Are you game?...Good. Meet me at Bishop’s Cafe in ten.” 

Paula closed the cellular and crouched down in front of Lara’s sweating face. “You’ve got about half an hour to get out of that. If you can’t, a very kinky friend of mine is going to take full advantage of your predicament before he auctions you off to a Middle Eastern oil Sheik, or someone less scrupulous. It’s been fun.” With that, Paula turned and said, before leaving the room and slamming its door behind her, “Unless, of course, you have a mind to tell us what you know about the rest of the Egyptian treasure.”

Lara took a deep breath and felt every turn of rope tighten as she thought, ‘Something tells me I’m going to live to seriously regret leaving my guns at the hotel room.’ Several minutes of tenacious escape attempting made it abundantly clear that Lara was in deep trouble. As hard as she tried, not one cinch would give. 

“Mmmmuhuhuh!” she screamed, hoping to catch the attention of anyone within earshot. But her frantic vocalizing was well muffled by the gag, and there was no way to dislodge it from her gaping mouth. It was then that something acutely unexpected happened, something beyond Lara’s realm of experience, something so pleasurably and erotically intense it caused her to lose what little control she had left to the overwhelming reality of the longest, most outrageous, solo orgasm of her thus far life. 

“MMMMMUHUHUHUH!” 

Forty-five minutes, and three ground-breaking climaxes later, Lara heard the front door slam and Paula say, “Get your ass over by that door.” Several minutes of scuffling and protesting, muffled verbiage ensued, after which the door to the room opened and Lara’s keeper strutted in. Behind her, on the floor of the other room, lay another damsel. She was bound and gagged exactly as her newfound co-captive. “Lara Cross, meet Gwenn Dolan.” Both damsels were on their stomachs, facing each other and raising several skin trenches on their sweat-soaked foreheads as they took blushing note of the other’s distress.

“My Middle East connection will be here in about an hour. Why don’t you two get acquainted.” 

Lara watched Paula leave the room and head for the front door, which she slammed and locked again. The seriously worried look in Gwenn’s eyes, and the Herculean escape attempt that followed, told Cross all she needed to know. ‘We are in some very deep shit here.’

Gwenn was completely naked; her upper body had been bound and gagged, and covered with a red-velvet, knee-length cape when Paula picked her up from a friend who owed HER a favor. 

‘What was I thinking?’ pondered Gwenn as she replayed the evening’s decisions. ‘If I’d known something like this was going to happen, I’d never consented to Rob’s role-play games.’

Lara was moving as rapidly as she could towards her new friend. ‘We’ve got to get out of this- we’ve GOT to!’

Gwenn’s realization that there was no way she could free herself from the excellent rope work Paula had so tightly and happily applied to her five-foot-eight, 38-24-36 physique soon impacted her frazzled nerve endings. A powerful rush of biochemical/electric energy raced up and down her spine, imploding in and around the crotch rope that had been so pleasurably insisting itself into Gwenn’s recently discovered, sexual persuasions. 

‘I have never been so horny in all my LIFE! I wonder what Paula meant about her ‘Middle east connection?’ It didn’t take Dolan long to face up to the undeniable fact that any hope of escape would hinge on Lara’s willingness to help. When she looked up to see how Cross was doing with her fix, their noses were but a few inches apart.

“Mmuhuh?”

“Muhuh.”

Lara’s body language frantically indicated an escape plan, suggesting they should do their best to free one of the gags. They were soon lying on their sides, positioning Gwenn’s fingers so as to give her access to the duct tape end in back of Lara’s neck. In the meantime, both struggled deliciously in their bonds while one wondered why she’d lived so long without having experienced the outrageous pleasure of a bondage orgasm. The more they tried to escape, the hotter they got. The hotter they got, the more they struggled, until both got completely lost in the rapturous pleasure of a situation that was getting more and more sensational and out of hand by the second.

“Mmuhuhuhuh!” (“Oh-my-gahahahahahd!”) screamed Gwenn when her first multiple stopped progress on the gag tape.

Lara, too, took a break from the attempt to enjoy her end of the experience. “MMMUHUHUH!” ‘A woman could get addicted to this. I wonder if she knows about the Middle East connection.’

By the time our two damsels reached the last of their bondage orgasms, not only were they completely exhausted, but Gwenn’s hands had also fallen asleep, which Lara was not aware of, making any real shot at escape impossible. She waited patiently for her no-choice partner to get back to the gag, and did her best to keep from falling asleep. 

“Muhmuhmuhmuh?” asked the tomb raider. But Gwenn had already given up and dozed off.  “MMMUHUHUHMMMUHUH!!” ‘Doesn’t she know what will happen if we don’t get out of this? Shit, she DOESN’T know. She may think this is all a game or something.’ A sobering minute passed. ‘Now what?’ Panic gripped Lara’s innards. She took a deep breath and felt every inch of rope on her bound and bothered body tighten. There was nothing she could do but wait and hope an opportunity would present itself whereby she could somehow manage to get free from the punishing rope work of her first experience with bondage. Sleep quickly overtook her. ‘Might as well rest while we can.’

About an hour later, Paula and her partner, Mark, showed up with two mail sacks, into which they stuffed and locked Gwenn and Lara, threw them down a laundry shoot, and drove them to a nearby basement filled with all kinds of bondage paraphernalia. They untied everything but their wrists, removed the gags, and cut off all of Lara’s clothing. Our two damsels soon found themselves standing in front of a huge, ceiling to floor, mirrored wall, in strapped on, 6 inch heels, and very skimpy, black-leather thongs. The circulation in their fingers returned, but the hot and bothered moisture between their legs was making it abundantly clear that neither one of them could resist the offbeat pleasure of being bound and manhandled by a couple of mean spirited strangers. 

Paula stood between them in a skintight, low cut, leather mini dress, and patent leather, come-and-fuck-me heels. “How about we start the bidding at ten thousand each.”

Six men and two women, who were seated in front of a console, behind which a video technician controlled and focused three TV cameras, occupied the room on the other side of the one-way mirror. The lenses were trained on the luscious threesome, transmitting the kinky event, via a closed circuit connection, to several other interested parties. 

“Are either one of them versed in the bondage arts?” asked a female voice from Tokyo.

Paula glared at Lara, then at Gwenn. “…Well, are you?”

They both frowned and shook their heads in the negative.

The Tokyo connection continued. “Do they enjoy being bound and bothered?”

Paula again asked, “…Well?”

Lara and Gwenn widened their eyes and did their best to maintain generic postures and expressions.

“I see,” said Tokyo. “How about we find out?”

“As you wish,” said Trace. “But only if everyone else is in agreement.”  (They were.)

Paula placed both hands on her hips, did the best she could to suppress a dissatisfied smirk, turned, and headed for the cellar door. “Mark!” It opened immediately. She passed through it and said, when she was well out of earshot, “Like I have nothing better to do than fool around with a pair of top-heavy twits.”

Lara and Gwenn watched her leave the room. Mark entered. The door was slammed and bolted. A rush of peculiarly unfamiliar energy raced through their bodies, for they knew something very sexual was about to happen to both of them, and they were sure it would be a hell of a lot more stimulating than what happened to them earlier. They watched as the tall, dark, handsome hunk that’d driven them to God-knows-where grabbed a few skeins of thick, nylon rope off of some hooks on the wall to their left.

While Paula’s partner in crime undid the skein he said, “Back to back.” His two assignments decided to play hard to handle. “Have it your way,” warned Mark before calling out, “Debra! Kathryn!” The door was unbolted, and two, very striking women, dressed in tight-leather jump suits, and very high-heeled boots, entered the room. They walked straight to the disobedient tasks at hand.

Lara and Gwenn fervently protested against Deb and Kath’s hard-pressed insistence, but to no avail, and were soon back-to-back, feeling the harsh embrace of rope around their elbows. Within a matter of seconds, Mark bound all four arm joints together behind their backs, cinched them very tightly, and continued to guide the line around their torsos as well. Three circles, just below their breasts, soon brutally bound their bodies together. Another three, above their heaving and billowing mounds, were soon cinched and tightly knotted as well. In the meantime, Deb and Kath worked on their legs, independently binding them together at the ankles and upper knees. Mark then tied a line to Lara’s waist, with three tight knots in front, threading the slack between her legs, up between her bound wrists and ass cheeks, through the back of her forearms, then through Gwenn’s, and down between her legs and up to the waist, where it was also tied off, with every inch of slack pulled out. The rope centered on both their moistening pussies, digging into the thongs, and exerting several pounds of pressure thereabout. The two damsels did the best they could not to show any evidence of arousal, but their sensual readiness was about to enter into redlining territory, and there was nothing they could do about it.

Mark pulled a remote control device from his right pants pocket and pressed a button. A shiny, heavy-duty, silver hook descended from above. He caught it under one of the elbow cinch circles before reversing its motor, then stood back as Deb and Kath left the room, without closing the door. The slack tightened considerably, thereby forcing Gwenn and Lara to stand at strict attention while the elbow cinches tightened to a very dastardly level and the crotch line pressure doubled. Mark stopped the motor, replaced the gizmo in his pants, and reached into a shirt pocket for a canister of thick dental floss. He pulled out and cut off a length of it and tied one end to Gwenn’s now rock-hard, right nipple. She stared down at it with extreme dismay as Mark ran the floss over to the other, pencil eraser size protrusion, pulled out all the slack, and then some, wrapped it tightly, and knotted it off. He plucked the tether a few times to make sure it was nice and tight, repeating the procedure on Lara’s nipples as well...

He then pulled a tube of Icy-Hot ointment out of his other shirt pocket and smeared a healthy gob of the stuff all over her breasts, especially where the floss had been tied. Gwenn made two fists and tried not to react as the gook was applied to Lara’s erect nipples and breasts, also.

‘Good grief,’ thought Dolan when the stuff started to do its thing. ‘I’ve never been so horny in all my friggin’ life!’

But that wasn’t the end of their fix. After replacing the ointment tube in his pocket, Mark walked over to another bank of wall hooks and selected two fairly large Master locks. He opened them and returned to his damsels. Lara watched as he hung one from her nipple tether and clicked it closed. He did the same to Gwenn, stepped back a few feet, reached into his pocket, pressed a button, and the pulley motor tightened another two inches of slack out of the elbow suspension line. “There, that ought to do it.”
 

When the door slammed and the bolt engaged, Lara and Gwenn looked at themselves in the mirror. They had been purposely left un-gagged, in the hope their passion would rise to the occasion in the form of whatever erotic gibberish they were inspired to utter.

“Fuck you!” screamed Lara as her sensual juices reached the boiling point, and what little self-control she had left evaporated before her worldwide audience’s appreciating eyes. “Fuck the whole fucking BUNCH of you!”

“Twenty-thousand for Cross,” offered Tokyo.

“Fifty for both of them,” countered Australia.

The two madly writhing women coincidentally decided to bend their knees, to create whatever friction they could on the crotch line, digging the line much deeper into their dripping wet spots than the move was individually designed to effect. As the bidding escalated, so did Lara and Gwenn’s passion. They were soon moaning and making all kinds of wild and wonderfully provocative sounds as the weight of the locks and the tingling-icy heat on their breasts drove them to the outer cutting edges of their erotic envelopes.

“One hundred thousand for the pair,” blurted Tokyo.

Our dynamic duo suddenly reached the ends of their psychosexual fuses, fighting their bondage for all they were worth to get the full effect the bind had been designed to inspire. Crazily, and with complete abandon, their efforts to control the inevitable exploded and filled the eyes and ears of their observers with what could only be described as the longest, most spectacular multiple Gwenn Dolan and Lara Cross had ever realized into their, up-to-then, sexually oriented experience. 

“One million,” bid Sheik Achmed Ben Shahad from his private jet, knowing, as the others did not, that the price was well worth it, given the treasured information Lara had guarded in her biochemical memory banks for the last several months.

“Good God, what’s HAPPENING!” wondered Gwenn as she completely let go to her needs and thought, ‘Am I going to spend the rest of my life doing stuff like this?’

And Lara screamed, “DAMN you, the whole fucking LOT of you! HOHOHOHOH-AHAHAHAHA!!!”

“Oh-my! Oh-My! OHOHOH-MAHEE-GAHAHAD!!!”

So it went for the next, several, heart-pounding minutes...

Epilogue
It was hopefully obvious to Lara that her abductors had gone for the bait she’d purposely placed on a file in her lap top computer. It indicated the location of a lead chest, buried in the desert, about a mile outside of Cairo. The cleverly camouflaged, ‘Mushroom Pie Recipe’ file also indicated the chest contained explicit instructions as to where the rest of the Egyptian treasure could be found. This discovery prompted the phone call Paula Trace picked up in the apartment in which Lara and Gwenn were being kept. It gave her the green light to do whatever she wished with the two gorgeous damsels in her charge. But when the chest was opened, in the presence of all those who’d taken part in Lara’s warehouse abduction, a deadly, C-4 surprise exploded in their faces, spectacularly disintegrating both Wellington Trent and his 75-foot yacht in the process. The mushroom cloud it sent into the atmosphere coincided, to the very second, with Lara and Gwenn’s spectacular climaxes at the hands of their newest antagonists. Immediately following that event, the Sheik who’d purchased the two answered a phone call to learn of the plastique generated event from one of his binocular operatives, which immediately brought a self-satisfying smile to his face, for, just a few hours earlier, he’d purchased the jewelry Lara had found, and had stolen from her, from Wellington Trent, and stashed it on his jet. A second later, a call waiting interruption informed him that Lara’s hotel room had been emptied of all its pertinent hardware, which tightened and lowered his brows, downshifting his expression to a tight-lipped ‘DRAT!!!’ As for the other bidders, none were prepared to shell out more than the outrageous sum the Sheik forked over for Damsels Gwenn Dolan and Lara Croft.

John Roper 

Continued in part two

12.10.04

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