Chapter 4 - Ivy Valentine

Author's Note:
I am finally back.  Working 14 hour shifts for a month six days a week...not great.  Anyways, got a bit of time to write again and I am SUPER behind.  But now I got all these ideas whirling around in my head so perhaps I'll be able to make some head way.  First up, a Hunter story.  I want to release more of these, because truthfully there are a lot of characters I want to incorporate.  But I also want to write more Ashwynn Covington.

Speaking of which, Markydaysaid has released some great pictures of her while I've been away.  The tentacle one is a definite favorite, for which I should probably write a chapter about.  You can find it HERE.

The next Hunter chapter will be about...well I was going to put a puzzle here but I don't think many people read these anyways.  Well.  I don't care, I'm doing it anyways!  Suck it, readers! (sorry, its 3 am).  The next chapter will have three victims; they are of similar background but from different games.  The clue is...111814051915060215.  If you figure it out (its not hard) and be first to post, I'll do something for you.  I don't know what.  But something.  Write a story.  Or something.  I don't know.  Maybe I'll let you recommend the next victim or be in the story yourself.  I don't know.  Did I mention its 3 am?

I'm rambling, here's the story.  The sex is actually relatively light as the chapter acts more of just exposition.  Sorry, will make up for it in the next chapter.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Over an ancient battleground on a stone pinnacle that towered hundreds of feet above the cracked molten wastes, two combatants fought a battle to the death. 
 
“You are no daughter of mine, wench!” spat Cervantes, the dread pirate in his usual buccaneer garb.  He was wielding a pair of blades, flourishing them gaudily as he circled his foe.  “The Soul Edge shall be mine!  Then I will spread my will across all the seas!”
 
“The sword must be destroyed!” yelled back his foe, the legendary Ivy Valentine.  “No one can control its power!”  The voluptuous woman was dressed in a rather strange battle attire.  The purple straps that transfixed her, fastened by gold, were strategically placed to minimally hide the more sensitive portions of her anatomy.  They did little to restrain her massive bust nor protect her curvaceous ass.  Though not particularly sensible, they did tend to distract the eye, which was at times tactically useful.  Her father Cervantes, however, was not a man that could be so diverted.
 
In between the two sat a most unholy looking blade, crimson and demonic.  It had eyes affixed to its hilt, continually darting back and forth as if searching for its next meal.
 
“Enough idle talk,” replied Cervantes, readying his gunblades for this final battle with his estranged daughter.  “Let us end this, once and for all.”
 
“Gladly,” replied Ivy, unfurling her trademark snake-sword.  The metallic blades unfurled and slithered like a living serpent, a remarkable feat of control that was a sign of Valentine’s martial skill.  Even in its more traditional retracted form it was deadly; on the other hand, when it was unfurled into a bladed whip it was a devastating weapon of shock and awe.  The two foes circled each other, weapons at the ready for what was destined be their final battle.  Yet their final duel, where their near-ancient feud would finally be ended, was not to be.
 
In a shimmer of light, a figure appeared on the platform.  In a world of swords and satin dresses, her attire was completely alien.  By her stance and dimensions, she appeared to be a woman, confirmed by the voice that followed.
 
“Am I interrupting something?” the interloper said irreverently.  The manner of her dress was baffling to the two warriors, made of a mix of cloth and some unknown metal.  She was clearly armed, with a rather odd looking pair of pistols on her belt.
 
“Who the hell are you?!” raged Cervantes, turning towards the new threat.  “Who are you to interrupt our battle?”
 “Sorry, but I don’t want to stay in this plane of existence longer than I must,” came the reply.  “I’ve only snagged three targets so far and I have a deadline to meet.  Believe it or not, those still exist when hunting down playthings for your galactic overlords,” she quipped to the incredulous and dumbfounded combatants.
 
“What sort of insolence is this?” roared Cervantes, twirling his blades in anger.  “Is this one of your tricks, Isabella?”
 
Ivy’s blade curled at her feet as she oriented herself towards the hunter.  Cervantes she knew she could defeat, but there was something unnerving about this strange woman in front of her.  “I do not know this person, father of mine.  Nor do I know its intentions towards the Soul Edge.”
 
The woman scoffed, her voice darkened by the filter of the mask she wore.  “Soul Edge?  What a boring name for a sword.”
 
“You know not what you speak of,” Ivy replied.  “This is the most powerful weapon in existence.  It is forged in—”  Her words were stopped as the hunter, without a second thought, drew one of her pistols.  Both Ivy and Cervantes reacted quickly, raising their weapons in an attempt to parry the blow – a feat they were both capable of when it came to firearms.  But the hunter was not wielding a flintlock pistol.  The interloper, without even looking at the target, fired.
 
Soul Edge burst into shards, an unholy cry of pain and anger erupting from the innermost depths of the blade.  The last wail of the ancient sword echoed across the landscape, its grand plan undone.  The shards of metal dissipated into the air as the magicks that were bound to the blade wilted.  The two warriors could only stare staggered as the object of their obsession faded into nothingness.
 
Cervantes was first to react, bellowing with rage and hatred as his prize was taken from him.  His life’s work had now crumbled into nothing – nothing could stop his fury now.  He charged at the woman, blades held aloft.  Even Ivy was surprised by the ferocity, which outstripped anything he had ever mustered against herself.  Yet there was a fel aura about the stranger that told Ivy that she was not one to be trifled with.  Effortlessly, the hunter calmly drew her other pistol from its holster, levelling it at the charging man.   The hunter’s eyes grew cold, though none could see past the mask.
 
The elder pirate was flung back with the burning power of the blast, tumbling backwards.  He cried out in pain as he felt the plasma burning into his skin – right as he felt his feet fumble over the brink.  His flailing form toppled out of sight, plummeting to the cracked molten earth hundreds of feet below.
 
“Now,” Ashelia, Agent A529, said to Ivy Valentine, stunned by the sudden demise of her eternal enemy.  “Where was I?”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the darkened corridors of a fearsome inter-dimensional warship, a rather disparate pair walked together.  One was a well-armed and well-armored young woman, whose sleek black armor, exotic weaponry and red-lit helm fit well into the environs of a spacecraft.  Her armor was unique – a bodysuit of woven alien leathers as durable as steel, with a breastplate made of an extravagantly price synthetic alloy with the hardness of diamond.   Over this she was wearing a longcoat, made of the hide of a gargantuan monster on Eridia III.  Suitably, her armor was various shades of black – sable, onyx, night, void, which to the untrained eye were indiscernibly identical.  Her helm consisted of a neosteel mask, a single crimson-lit yet opaque slit-like panel across the eyes.  The rest of her head was covered by her headpiece, of woven metal, and then also by the hood of her coat.  An unseen personal shield added additional protection.  Her name was Ashelia, and she was an Agent.
 
The other woman was naked, in all the glory of her birth.  She was the pinnacle of human beauty, athletic yet with just the right amount of curve where it counted.  Her bountiful chest was the envy of the women across Earth.  An aristocratic treasure seeker by trade, she had spent enough time on the vessel that her nudity no longer fazed her.
 
“In some ways, this is a gift,” the Agent noted, as the duo walked the halls of the space vessel.  “You will never age, get fat or fall ill here.”
 
“A gift?” came Lara Croft’s sarcastic reply, in her intoxicating English accent.  “You’ve kidnapped me, subjected me to unspeakable tortures, demeaned me, and raped me!  You’re insane, you know that right?”  She couldn’t be sure, but she had been at the mercy of this woman for at least a month.  Thankfully for Lara, her ‘pod time’, during which she was subjected to endless sexual torment (and ecstasy), only lasted perhaps two thirds of her day.  The Agent allowed her time out of her pod so that she could wander and explore the ship to a degree.  Occasionally, the hunter would even let her sleep in a regular bed.  As much as Lara wanted to take advantage of this to escape or wreak havoc, there was little she could do in the void of space, naked as she was.  Still, Lara didn’t think it a kindness, given the hell she went through during her sessions.
 
Of course, she hadn’t seen Miranda Lawson out of her pod for weeks.  One morning (at least for her), she found the pod that the Cerberus agent was imprisoned in.  She was into the second hour of a cycle – two hours of being on the verge of climax but unable to reach it.  She saw the horribly pained expression on the young woman’s face – pure horrid anguish.  The Englishwoman knew the feeling well.  Even though Miranda when they first met had fucked her for an hour straight with that…thing…she couldn’t help but want to bash the pod open to free her.  But she couldn’t…and Lara made sure to stay away from that sector of the ship after that.
 
Meanwhile, Lara had watched helplessly as that previously innocent young girl that was the bounty hunter’s last capture get carried kicking and screaming into a room that was lined with horrible looking metal devices.  As the door closed behind her, Lara asked what was going to happen to her, to which the hunter almost happily replied, “Robot tentacles, of course!”  Then she promptly ordered Lara back to her pod, escorted by her large droid minions for what was to be her longest session – two days.
 
“The computer records how many orgasms you have, you know,” came the reply of the Agent to Lara’s retort.  “So, don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it…at least a little.”
 
“You’re a monster,” Lara shot back angrily.  “How could a woman ever torture another like this?  You are a heartless –”
 
“3,492,” replied Ashelia matter-of-factly.  “And I’m not paid to have a heart.”  They came to yet another unmarked blast door, but Lara was sure she had never been to this part of the ship before.  “I have something I want to show you.  My latest acquisition.”
 
The door swiftly opened to yet another terrible scene for Lara.  A woman was strapped to an upright panel, restraints across her wrists and ankles.  She was naked, of course.  Momentarily the Englishwoman marveled at the woman’s impossible dimensions.  She had absolutely massive breasts that defied gravity but she was also somehow fit and muscular.  Yet between her chest and her full behind she had the look of someone designed by an immature video game developer.  Short silvery hair lay across her eyes, which beheld a look familiar to Lara – that of a woman driven to the brink of orgasm yet not allowed to cross her blissful threshold.  Lara quickly saw the source of her anguish:  a belt around her waist, whirring with activity.  It did not touch her womanhood in any way, but apparently was directing enough of a stimuli somehow to drive her mad with lust.
 
A hateful shout interrupted Lara’s thoughts.
 
“YOU!” the woman screamed at the sight of the hunter.  “I WILL TEAR YOUR THROAT OUT, CUR!  I WILL RIP YOUR—”  And then the woman was suddenly gripped by silence.  Her face contorted with confusion, followed shortly by livid furor as she realized that she had been muted.
 
“Yes, well,” noted the Agent, tapping a few buttons on her wrist module.  “That’s enough of that.  Though I suppose she should be congratulated.  Most women would have gone insane after twenty eight hours of riding the swell before a climax.”
 
Lara looked at her with incredulity.  “You’ve left her like this for over a day?!”
 
“Yes,” came the reply, the smirk under the mask showing through in her words.  “Can you imagine the pain she must be experiencing?”
 
“Why have you brought me here?” Lara replied, dreading the answer.  She was still angry at herself for succumbing so easily with Miranda.  Even the fact that she was drugged at the time couldn’t prevent her from feeling utmost shame at violating that young woman.  Of course, Miss Lawson proceeded to shag the daylights out of her afterwards, but that was beside the point.
 
“This woman, Ivy Valentine, is suffering,” the Agent noted.  “With a mere flick of your fingers or taste of your tongue, you could end that.  Are you going to let your pride keep this poor soul from the release she so badly wants?”
 
“Is this all a game to you?” Lara replied swiftly.  “You uproot us from our lives and toy with us?”  Lara saw the look in Ivy’s eyes, torn between rage and lust.  There was something behind the medieval aristocrat’s gaze that told Lara how badly she wanted the young woman to touch her.  “I will not take part in your games.  Not anymore.”
 
“Oh, how cruel you have become,” the Agent replied devilishly.  “Just one caress of her clit and you could end her torture.”  She inched towards Lara, who knew what was coming.  “Thankfully for Ivy here, I am a generous mistress.”  With a wave of her outstretched hand, a soft puff of Erogen shot into Lara’s face, the chemical working immediately.
 
Lara felt the familiar feeling of lust rise in her with the sudden infusion of the drug.  Her heart quickened as she felt a tingle crescendo deep within her.  Thoughts of ravishing the restrained woman entered her mind.   She wanted to explore Ivy’s folds and probe her depths with her tongue.  The young woman could think of little else but to tear the busty woman from her restraints and to sit on her face, grinding against Ivy’s tongue until she had extracted the pleasure that she needed.
 
“No,” Lara countered firmly through gritted teeth.  She pushed back the thoughts, doing best to quell her rampaging desire.  “I will not be a slave!”  With a mental shove, it took all of her strength of will to keep the medication at bay.  Yet as moments passed she could feel her vision clearing and her heart slowing, a sense of victory welling up inside of her.
 
The Agent watched the young woman silently as she fought her desperate internal battle.  “Impressive,” she said quietly.  It had been a healthy dose of Erogen – the fact that Croft managed to subdue its effects was somewhat surprising.  She knew she could force the issue with a bigger dose – at dangerously high doses even the most celibate and trained mind would fail.  In fact, the hunter was somewhat tempted by the idea of putting Lara in her place, perhaps to be followed by some lovely form of torture.  For one delicious second she thought of all manner of ways that she could punish the young woman for her defiance.
 
“Very well.  You may go,” she said at last.  Her masked face hid any reason for her decision.  Yet Lara surmised that this was not likely mercy, but some part of a greater plan of torture.  A door opened behind Lara, leading back to the ship proper.  “Go now before I change my mind.”
 
Lara eyed the hunter warily as she backed out of the room, as if waiting for some trap to spring.  In reality, there were any number of commands that the Agent could have given the ship.  Any room on the ship could be filled with Erogen in a split second.  The halls of the ships were dotted with hidden turrets armed with adapted orgasm-inducing energy weapons.  She could have even commanded the computer to unveil unseen droids that could seize Lara and mercilessly rape her on the spot.
 
Yet it was not an accident that Ashelia chose Lara as her first acquisition.  There was something about the young free-spirited brunette, an inner fire coupled with a body as close to natural perfection as could be attained, that the Agent to her.  Ever since reading her file, the Agent wanted her as part of the collection, though she was becoming increasingly reluctant to release her to the Masters.
 
The Agent silently pushed such unhealthy thoughts away from her mind.  Denying the Masters had led to her last mind wipe and defying them again could lead her to an eternity of sexual servitude.  She turned to her erstwhile prisoner, who was still struggling quietly against her bonds.
 
“Well, now,” Ashelia said quietly to Ivy.  “What shall we do with you?”
 
Ivy growled at her captor, her voice returned.  She started to say something hateful, but then thought better than to antagonize the hunter.  It took every bit of her strength to not cry out and beg for release, as her wanting pussy throbbed in earnest.  “Do what you will.”
 
“Oh?  Perhaps I will come back in a few more hours.  Give you a bit of time to think,” the masked tormentor taunted.  Behind her helm she smiled as she watched Ivy’s expression betray her lust, the strong woman wilting in the face of her torture.  Ivy twisted and wrenched at her bonds, even trying to will herself into an orgasm with her mind.  But it was to no avail, the only way she would have her release was through the will of the sadistic woman in front of her.
 
A pained expression broke through on Ivy’s face, as she finally gave into her unbearable desire.  “Please…” she pleaded.  “Just…just do it!”
 
“Do what?” Ashelia asked, taking on a somewhat absentminded tone.  “Is there something that I can help you with, Miss Valentine?”  As she spoke, she began to slyly undo the fastenings on her right glove, pulling it off to reveal the smooth skin of her hands.  “You’re going to have to be specific.”
 
“Please,” Ivy whispered in her low voice, “…please…let me…have my release.”  Her cheeks filled with her color as she spoke the last word in shame.
 
“Louder,” replied Ashelia commandingly.  She raised her hand towards Ivy’s full breasts, tracing the curve of her bountiful chest.  Her fingers were mere millimeters from the skin of the woman’s heaving bosom, yet they were always just out of reach.
 
“Please, let me cum!” cried out Ivy, her throaty voice echoing against the metallic walls.  “I beg of you!”  Even as Ivy spoke she felt Ashelia’s surprisingly gentle hand caress her left breast, feeling its heft in her fingers.  Her thumb slid over the hardened nub of Ivy’s nipple, eliciting a gasp of pleasure as Ivy began to writhe at the stimulation.
 
Ashelia couldn’t remember the last time she touched someone intimately.  It was a haze of a memory, as were all of her memories.  She always reminded herself to not sample the goods, as that was always a slippery slope.  She couldn’t deny that at times she wanted to ravage Lara, that sexy minx.  Still, she felt that she was more than capable of stemming such feelings.  She was a professional after all.  She knew she could keep it under control, fill her quota and be released from service.
 
Ashelia’s hand slipped downwards, away from Ivy’s magnificent bust, to her belly, feeling the hardened abs underneath her ivory skin.  Isabella Valentine was stronger than most men and her musculature, though eclipsed by her rounded ass and massive tits, showed it.  The hunter’s fingers continued their journey, sliding passed her prey’s navel towards her Ivy’s soaking sex.  Ivy’s breath was caught in her throat as she waited in agonizing anticipation as her torturer lingered so close to her womanhood.
 
“That sword,” the Agent whispered, “Why did you seek it?”  Her hand was motionless just above Ivy’s waiting and dripping pussy, as the hapless silver-haired woman’s body approached another agonizing swell.
 
“It was…” Ivy replied urgently, her body yearning for climax.  The machine had intensified once more, sending reverberating pleasure up and down her spine.  Her body warmed, her breath quickened – yet there would be no release.  Not without a little external stimuli, at least.  “It was…power!  The most powerful weapon in existence!  No one could be trusted with it.  It had to be…destroyed!!!”  She cried out the last word in frustration as she felt the swell subside, the machine cheating her out of yet another orgasm.  Her pussy ached in distress, sensitive as it was.
 
Ashelia scoffed.  “Power?  I suppose it was a nice sword, with all its demonic magic.  But power?”  Her fingers inched ever so slightly towards Ivy’s womanhood.  “That isn’t power.  THIS is power.”  The machine, answering an unseen command, began to ramp up again.  “I can take everything from you…your entire world.  But if you are good, if you do what I say…then perhaps just for a moment you’ll get a taste of it back.” 
 
The machine began to hum slightly as it went into overdrive, battering Ivy’s senses in ways that she had never experienced.  It was as if she was suddenly covered with erogenous zones, all of them firing away at the pleasure centers in her brain.  “OH MY GOD!!! PLEASE!!!” screamed Valentine, as she was kept on the edge of what felt like a thousand orgasms.  She wrenched against her bindings painfully, bucking against the metal restraints.  If she let this go on, Ashelia was sure that Ivy would either rip the metal bondages apart or seriously injure her wrists (more likely).
 
And then Ivy felt it, the soft fingers of her captor inching downwards towards her clit.  Her heart fluttered in expectation as her tormentor’s fingers neared her labia.  She thought briefly how it would be cosmically cruel if her hunter stopped now and left her.  Her mind fell into horror at the prospect -- and then unbearably ashamed with how depraved she was to need her captor inside of her.
 
The Agent leaned in close, so that she could almost feel Ivy’s heavy breath through her mask.  “You are mine now,” she whispered.   Then swiftly with her left, still gloved, hand she seized Ivy’s massive left breast, her fingers finding the hardened nipple.  She was still enamored with Ivy’s heavy chest, still impressed with how they seemed to defy age and gravity.  Ashelia loved a good set of breasts, as they tended to boost the price of capture.  With that thought, she frowned darkly as she thought of how much she herself might fetch with the Masters.
 
“Ah!!” Ivy squealed as the Agent rolled her hard, fat nipple between her fingers.  Her body was aflame with lust – she wanted to break free and ravage the woman in front of her.  She wanted to please her mistress so that she might have a bit of pleasure in return.  A voice in the back of Ivy’s mind wailed in shame.  Yet with every passing cycle of the machine that voice was becoming more and more irrelevant.
 
It was almost unexpected – the final touch of Ashelia’s fingers.  Ivy expected another tortured denial, with hours of agony to the point that she wished for death.  Instead, she felt the hunter’s nimble fingers slip into the soaking wetness that were her folds.  She felt her rub against her sensitive clit, sending shockwaves up her spine.  Her eyes widened with shock as she felt it coming, the long awaited climax.  Her breath was caught in her throat, as if breathing was now of secondary importance to her body.  Every muscle in her body contorted as her mind transcended into another level of being.  When the moment finally came, it was an explosion of sensations radiating through every limb, riding a euphoric wave that flooded her mind.  She could feel a torrent of juices streaming down her thighs, but she did not care.  For a blissful minute she did not care about much of anything.  All she could do was hold her eyes shut and hold onto that feeling as long as she could.
 
Minutes passed.  When she finally opened her eyes, she was alone.  The machine sat inert around her waist, its cycles finally ceased.  She sagged against her bonds, suddenly exhausted beyond measure.  For once in her life, the strong and proud Ivy Valentine was afraid and ashamed.  Afraid of this terrible being that had so broken her.  Ashamed of how easily she felt that she was broken.
 
And excited at being controlled by this powerful woman.