Lady Lara Crawford in; The Anililagan Club

By Marcus

Starring Lady Lara Crawford (a character originally created by Orb)

I’ve become quite fond of this immensely wealthy, pony tail wearing aristocrat and adventuress and have written several stories featuring her. But both myself and Orb are still at a loss to think whom the tomb robbing little adrenaline junkie could could possibly be based upon.

PLUS

Lady Victoria Bentley (not the same one as in Dr. Strange.)

Sir Geron Stark & Dr. Helena Troy (both created by me.)

Halley Berri? Lady Giga? Kylee Minough? Probably all based on some empty headed bimbo celebrity or other... You work it out.

Preface

            In this story we explore yet another sexual fetish. As with all my stories readers are encouraged to elaborate upon this theme with their own stories if so inspired. (For example ‘Lennon’ wrote the excellent ‘The Disgusting Fate of Bikini Babe’ following on from Orb’s ‘Legion of Virtue’ stories and my ‘The Legion of Virtue does Marvel’.)

            Chapter One;

            Lady Lara Crawford was busy working out in her high ceiling, spacious private gymnasium. Lara believed in always exercising naked, except for a pair of heavy combat boots and socks, as these, she reasoned, she would most likely be wearing in any circumstances which required her to utilise her skill in acrobatics, base jumping or the martial arts.

            Lara had been exercising for about an hour, starting with jump rope and stretching, then moving on to kick-boxing using a heavy suspended punch bag, and now, as she walked along the narrow wooden blade of the horizontal beam with the practiced easy of a well trained gymnast, she presented a flawless vision of naked feminine perfection. Every inch of her superbly toned body gleamed and glistened with sweat, her large breasts maintaining their shape without the need of any support and the smooth muscles of her tight stomach were visible as she made constant little adjustments to maintain her balance upon the narrow wooden tightrope. From behind, her shoulders were ramrod straight and her back arched gracefully inward like a ballerina. Her long auburn pony tail dangled down, almost brushing the firm looking, compact haunches of her tight buttocks. One long, lean muscled leg was placed directly in front of the other, her small booted feet resting rock steady upon the balancing beam.

            Reaching one end she about faced, with a equilibrium maintaining flourish of her arms, and re-traced her steps back to the middle before dropped to take all her weight upon her straightened arms. Her legs swinging wide out behind them and to either side in an eye watering mid-air split. Lara held the pose for a number of seconds, small hard muscles standing out clearly on her tense arms, before continuing the movement rolling her head down, whist at the same time raising her hips up, until her quivering wide apart thighs were balanced atop her inverted torso, her shaven pussy gaping towards the gym ceiling.

            In his computer cluttered work room Lady Lara’s live-in technical aid support and equipment expert Brice nearly bust a nut as he frantically wanked himself off to these antics. Relayed to him in sumptuous HD via numerous surveillance mini-cams he had surreptitiously hidden in various parts of the gymnasium.

            Unaware of her over-heating audience of one, and growing bored with her balancing act, Lara flipped off the horizontal bar in a perfect dismount and jogged over to the trampoline. Grasping the edge she did a forward role, her shapely legs swinging up high over her head to impact smack in the centre of the flexible membrane. The trampoline’s springs squeaked rhythmically as Lara commenced to bounce up and down vigorously, her large well shaped breasts swinging about without restraint. Bryce spurted off at the sight. Thank Christ he’d had the foresight to record all this to disc he congratulated himself as, once again, he reached for a fresh paper tissue. Not only for his own future viewing pleasure but for his mystery benefactor as well.

Chapter two;

            Later that day, after taking a shower, (Unbeknownst to Lara also bugged with Brice’s mini cams.) her ladyship was seated in a plush armchair by the large open fire mantelpiece of the main hall, when her butler entered carrying the daily selection of newspapers upon a silver tray. These he deposited on a nearby reading desk and Lara began to idly scan through them, stopping as she read an article which instantly caught her attention.

            The last year had seen alarming incidences of a number of high profile movie actresses, models and female celebrities being mysteriously spirited away. The only clue to their adduction was a calling card left behind with the name ‘SATURN’ upon it. All the missing women had this in common... they were all well known, young, rich and very beautiful. Lara had kept a casual eye on this on-going story, if for no other reason that this select little group of course included herself.

            Indeed just last month Lara had come second in some ‘lads’ mag’ poll of ‘The World’s One Hundred Most Desirable Tottie’. Although Lara held this magazine in contempt... (As well as its readership!) especially as they had had the bad taste to vote some orange tanned, plastic blonde with the obviously dyed hair (and as even more obviously fake breasts ) in above her at number one. She neither the less kept cautiously on her guard. She didn’t know who was kidnapping these women, or for what purpose, but she didn’t fancy finding herself waking up one morning in some far eastern brothel or sheik’s harem. And now the paper informed her that her close friend, the wealthy socialite and model Lady Victoria Bentley, had just become Saturn’s latest victim.

            Renown for her fresh faced blonde beauty and lithesome figure Lady Victoria Bentley was one of the most photographed women in the world. As a former ‘wild child’ she had conducted several high profile affairs with various rock stars, tycoons and movie actors, always with a view of raising her own media profile. Her recent (and, in Lara's opinion, ill-advised.) photo spread in a notorious top shelf magazine had ensured that most of the male population of the planet were now intimately familiar with every inch of Victoria’s (admittedly gorgeous) body. As the two glamorous aristocrats were approximately the same age, and from the same social strata, and with similar adventurous natures (albeit in totally different directions) they had long ago formed a firm friendship, which had even occasional landed them in the bed together. And now Victoria had disappeared. Apparently abducted from her own home in broad daylight swiftly, efficiently and without a trace.

            Lara had intended to go on an expedition to explore a newly located ancient temple in the Brazilian rainforest later in the week, but now she decided she would investigate her friend’s disappearance instead.

Chapter three;

            Victoria’s mother welcomed Lara warmly to the Bentley family home. She agreed that, of course, Lara could conduct her own investigation of the crime scene but, she warned Lara dejectedly, not to expect any success as police forensics had already conducted a thorough search of the premises and come up with nothing. Whilst she was saying this Lara noticed some recent delivered mail which Victoria’s mother had been to distress to bother opening piled up on a nightstand near the front door.

            “Oh you never know... perhaps they missed something...” Lara said “or...” She continued smiling to herself. “Perhaps the evidence had just not yet arrived at the time.” She picked up the letters and leafed through them for any addressed to Victoria. Separating these she retired with them to Victoria’s private study to go through her most recent correspondence in detail. Most of this turned out to be the usual dull stuff pertaining to the aimless social round of the idle rich. But one parcel in particular was unusual. It contained nothing but an unadorned DVD or computer disc. Lara switched on Victoria’s computer and inserted the DVD into the appropriate slot. Then sat back and pressed ‘play.’

            The title “The Anililagan Club presents; Halley Berri Threesome” flashed up on the screen briefly before the movie dived straight into the action. Lara was presented with a view of a rather fake looking boudoir set on the large four poster bed of which three young, olive skinned, dark haired and well toned Mediterranean looking studs were enthusiastically servicing some overweight, coffee skinned, middle aged slattern.

            Lara noted with amusement that, although the skin colour and hair style matched perfectly, this was not Halley Berri... Halley Berri’s mother... maybe... but not Halley Berri.

             Indeed Lara had to conceded, as she studied a close up of this over mature performer valiantly sucking away at cock, that the woman did bear a strong family resemblance to the glamorous afro-American actress and beauty queen contestant... even down to having a tattoo in the shape of a flower on the same place on her right ass cheek. (Obviously the makeup guy knew his job.) But, although the lady was putting on a performance of vigour and vitality that would have put many a young girl to shame, the easily thirty years age difference meant that there was little chance that this lady could be mistake for the svelte and youthful original.

            Still Lara mused Halley Berri’s name had been on the list of celebrities kidnapped by ‘Saturn’... Coincidence? Or clue? Lara idly wondered what could have possibly persuaded this well past her prime porno actress to take part in such an embarrassing and degrading exhibition. A great deal of money no doubt! Decided Lara. Was this the sort of thing Vikki was into? Lara somehow doubted it.

            Feeling slightly queasy at viewing this unedifying spectacle... Lara decided to ‘cue’ to the end. There was nothing else on it. The reel finished with the three gigolos leaving the exhausted recipient of their amorous affections a recumbent heap of exhausted and sweaty middle age flesh. Lara ejected the disc, turning it over in her hands. Was there a link here? Halley Berri had been one of the celebrities that had been mysteriously abducted by Saturn... and now this raddled namesake of her had turned up on a DVD sent to Victoria Bentley. Well... it was the only lead she had... so it would have to be investigated. If for no better reason than she had nothing else to go on.

            Chapter Four;

            An internet search for ‘The Anililagan Club’ revealed very little. The club did have a web-site, but a pass word was required to access it. Lara immediately set her resident computer whiz Brice to work to see what he could dig up.

            Lara was becoming quite concerned about Brice; who appeared to have lost a great deal of weight in the months since she had first hired him. These days he looked pale, drawn and tired, and seemed to be constantly thirsty. Lara wondered if he might be starting with early onset diabetes as he appeared to have a perpetual need to replenish his body fluids. She also noted that his right hand had developed a nervous tremor, like an old man with palsy. Now, as he hunched over Lara's computer clicked rapidly away, and peering myopically through his thick glasses, Lara suspected he was going blind as well. No doubt staring at a computer screen all day wasn’t doing his eyesight any good. She’d noticed an unconscious tick had recently developed in his left eye.

            I’ve found something!” he squeaked excitedly.

            “What?” she said bending over him, one of her large soft breasts pressing itself in upon his thin bony shoulder, the twitch in Brice's left eye immediately started to get worse.

            “It-It’s the name of the web-site’s f-founder... It’s a ‘Sir Goran Stark’.” he stammered “Hmnn... I know him;”mused Lara” we’ve met a few times... Perhaps it’s time I paid him a visit!”

            The Starks were a well known blue blooded English family. Very wealthy and well connected... owning vast tracts of real estate. This generation had spawned two M.Ps and a bank president. The current holder of the title of ‘Lord of the Manor’ was Sir Goran Stark, residing at the ancestral seat just outside London.

            Lara had run into him a various events and garden parties. Both had an interest in foreign climes and ancient history and so she had got on better with him than she usually did with the rest of her class.

            “Right... I’ll phone him. In the past he’s invited me to look around his stately home and admire his collection of ancient artefacts... I think it’s high time I took him up on his offer. But first off... I need to make sure that I'm in tip top physical condition... so I’m going off to the gym for another workout... take my calls.” Said Lara turning around and striding mannishly off. “Yes Lady Crawford.” said Brice licking his dry lips.

Chapter five;

            The next day found Lara driving off to visit Sir Goran Stark’s stately country home. The peer was waiting to greet Lara outside his main entrance. Sir Goran Stark was a handsome, middle aged man of medium height dressed in his best worsted twill. Lara wore conservative black slacks and a sweater. Sir Goran gave Lara the customary sightseeing stroll around the house and grounds although the sharp witted Lara soon noted that he seem to be leaving a large section of the sprawling mansion off his little guided tour. Finally he led her into his personal museum and the two old acquaintances were soon deep in conversation as Lara apprised and help catalogue Sir Groan’s impressive collection of ancient antiques. Lara almost forgot her mission in her enthusiasm, but still made sure to make no mention of Lady Victoria’s disappearance, the Saturn kidnapping spree or the Anililagan Club and Sir Goran’s apparent connection with it.

            Soon the day was drawing to a close and as Lara ascended the flight of stair leading to the suite of rooms that Sir Groan had graciously allocated for her. She reflected that the gentleman had been happy to suggest that she stay the night and, from the way he had been ogling her body all day, was obviously entertained hopes of seducing her.

            No chance of that! Thought Lara smiling smugly. Lara despised men. All men. Oh she enjoyed flaunting her sexy body... and the power that gave her over men, taunting them with it... prick teasing... but woe betide any man who tried to take her up on what she so blatantly offered. He would be lucky to escape with only a broken arm! With women it was different... Lara quite enjoyed seducing and bedding any women she found attractive... but not men. Her father had disappeared... abandoning her at an early age and he, and his sex, had never been forgiven... no man was allowed to touch her!

            Lara thought back to the last time any man had had her. These reminisces were by no means pleasant and Lara's smooth brow frowned unconsciously at the memory.

            It was during the regrettable escapade known as ‘The Farm of Horror’* (Available for just £7 from FFF Battle Annals http://www.battle-annals.co.uk/index.html ) Lara had been captured, striped and bound by the villainous Sir Alistair McDonald whilst investigating his vile girl farming operation. It was this same Sir Alistair who had dared to have his personal mark branded upon her flawless ass, and then allowed her to be raped by two burly thugs in his employ. Lara still lay awake at night replaying this humiliation over and over again. Their rough hands... their common accents and insults... and worse of all their big hard cocks thrusting into her relentlessly again and again. Her blood boiled at the memory! When she thought of how she had been shackled into an industrialised dairy stall like a cud chewing heifer and the two had fucked her whenever they liked for days on end, laughing at her degradation! The pigs! Whist she was jammed uncomfortably into position, unable to move... Or even go to the toilet! Having to listening to her own excrement plop down onto the floor between her bare legs like some mindless farm animal whilst her hormonally enlarged mastitised breasts were constantly drained of milk.

            Of course both men had paid with their lives for their moment of fun, Lara had seen to that, but that still could not erase the shame that it had happen in the first place. Working classes oinks like that should not even have been allowed to talk to her... let alone fuck her!

            Indeed it was Sir Alistair’s considered option that Lara held the belief that no man was good enough for her. As he banged his bony hips against her buttocks, ramming his hard dick in and out of her repeatedly he evinced the theory that (on a subconsciously level at least) she believed that the only men really worthy of having her were the ones powerful enough to capture her, subdue her and take her by force. As he had. Those men... like himself... were the only men she would ever accept as truly deserving of her perfect body. And, as Lara been bound hand and foot, gagged and locked into a milking stall whilst he was imparting this insight to her, she had had no opportunity to refute it.

            But Sir Alistair, like his men, had paid with his life for defiling her and although it had taken her over a year to get her ravaged body back into its current pristine condition she was now prepared to draw a line under the whole humiliating incident .something like that was not going to happen again! Certainly Sir Goran didn’t stand a hope in hell of ever getting to fuck her high class ass!

Chapter six;

            In the suite of rooms allocated to her by Sir Goran Lara began dressing for dinner. She shuck off all her clothes, deciding to wear just her long silk black dress and nothing else. As she smoothed down the fabric of this expensive couture creation Lara examine the effect created in a tall dressing mirror whilst striking a number of poses.

            The thin halter straps led down to a v shape front which presented a generous amount of Lara's breasts to a breathless world. Whilst a slit on the left hand side from hem to hip allowed her to display one shapely bare leg whenever she desired to do so, and the diamond shaped cut out at the back ran almost down as far as her ass cleavage. The dress fitted snugly enough to highlight every curve of her splendid body and Lara was sure that this little number would have the effect of making Sir Goran much more amenable to answering her questions.

            Indeed later, after a meal of unsurpassed quality and with the candles glowing softly on the long table and Bach's Goldberg Variations playing quietly in the background, Lara decided to change the subject of the conversation from antique china vases to something more pertinent. She placed her elbows upon the table resting her pointed chin on her overlapping hands. The effect of which was to create a deep valley between her breasts. Lara fixed Sir Goran with her big green eyes whilst his own gaze irresistibly strayed a bit lower down.

            “Goran darling... I heard a little bit of gossip about you a while ago... that you had set up something called the ‘The Anililagan Club?’ I'm curious... what is that all about? I can’t find out a thing about it and you know what I'm like about mysteries.” Lara leaned forward, the shadows between her breasts growing darker. “Please...Do tell.”

            “Oh Ho! So you’ve discovered my naughty little secret have you?” chuckled Sir Goran good humouredly “Yes... you of course know that ‘Anililagnia’ means a sexual attraction towards older woman. A fetish that I'm embarrassed to admit I suffer from.” he continued leaning forward conspiratorially.

            “You see my dear my first sexual experience was with a much older woman, and further sexual adventures in a similar vein only served to reinforce my taste. We all have our little peccadilloes eh? don’t we? Of course being so obscenely wealthy it was easy for me to acquire mistresses who approximated my sexual ideal. But unfortunately this last late blooming of the fairer sex is, like all beauty, transient, and after only a short period of time, the ageing that had first excited me progressed beyond a point to where it now started to disguised me. So my life was filed with a constant round of replacing my current ‘Belle laide’ with a newer model.

            Then it occurred to me that if, I were to kidnap a young woman, I could have her remodel via plastic surgery to approximate my ideal. In fact I could have a whole seraglio of plumped up and artificially aged Beldam slave girls to slack my lust upon if I wished so. That way, not only would they possesses the vitality and lubricity of young women, but would remain frozen in that particular shape for many years. Thus I began my quest to acquire the world’s most beautiful women and subject them to a process which would transform them (whether they cared for the idea or not) into floppy titted old whores for my perverse sexual enjoyment.”

            Lara was momentarily nonplussed by this frank admission. She hadn’t expected Sir Goran to just confess so openly.

            “So...” she said recovering her composure “you admit you’re this ‘Saturn’ character who’s been behind all these kidnapping of female celebrities?”

            “Yes” he smirked irritatingly “Holst’s The Planets suite ‘Saturn; the Bringer of Old Age’ I thought that quite appropriate. And now Lady Crawford... I believe the time has come to put an end to this defunct charade.” he produced a small hand gun from underneath the table and levelled it at Lara. “Stand up Lady Crawford and keep your hands where I can see them!”

            Lara dabbed at her mouth with her napkin and arose from the table. Sir Goran kept her covered warily. Lara had not bother to conceal any of her favourite weapons about her for this trip, confident that she could rely on her martial arts skills to get her out of any tight corners she might find herself in. Quite frankly she not expected Sir Goran to be so crude and unsubtle. But now it was she who would pay the price for his lack of sophistication.

            “You have a beautiful body Lady Crawford...” said Sir Goran his gloating eyes roving over Lara's voluptuous silk ensheathed form. “But... I’m sure that we can still make some improvements to it.”

            Sir Goran indicated the direction he wished her to walk in with a flick of his gun. And Lara preceded him her hands raised.

            “I've had you under surveillance for quite some time now Lady Crawford... As a potential acquisition.” he chatted away as they walked “So when I discovered that you were investigating me I ensured that you would uncover enough evidence to led you straight here.” they made their way through his mansion's long echoing corridors until they came to a large medieval looking door framed with heavy drapes, and with two large diner jacketed bouncers on either side. One of these deferentially opened the door and the pair went through.

Chapter Seven

            “This my dear... is the Anililagan club!” announced Sir Goran proudly, with an expansive sweep of his arm which encompassed the whole of the panorama before them. Lara found herself gazing upon sybarites' paradise. A vast ball room sized room fitted out with plush furnishings, subdued lighting, a well stocked bar running the length of one wall, expensive looking drapes and mirrors along the walls and a raised dance floor complete with dance poles at the far end.

            “I formed this club for gentlemen who shared my rarefied taste in women. Here, in these elegant surrounding, they can enjoy the company of women especially tailored to match their demanding exotic tastes. With the added piquancy of knowing that all these ladies have all been unwillingly captured and artificially aged.”

            In this the dimly lit brothel Lara noted several decrepit looking overweight tarts moving languidly amongst and fraternising with the club’s clientele of laughing middle aged men. All the unappealing sagging flesh on display put Lara in mind of lingerie night at weight watchers.

            “These dear ladies work in shifts and are, of course, never allowed to leave the grounds... but otherwise they are provided with every convenience... Like pampered pets.”

            “How considerate” said Lara tartly.

            “Oh yes... although they are forced to work as whores. I keep them well topped up with ‘happy pills’.”

            Lara had already noted the vacant glazed look in the women’s eyes as they laughed and flirted away. They were obviously all drugged up to the eyeballs.

            On stage an aged exotic dancer in a platinum wig was going through her routine dressed in nothing but a white g-string and stockings. As she writhed half heartedly away, Lara thought her pale ass looking like a badly stuffed cushion positioned atop her thick thighs.

            “Ah... we’re in for a real treat... I see Lady Giga is one stage.” exclaimed Sir Goran enthusiastically.

            Lara was familiar with the name. An up and coming pop princess whose explicit videos were little more than a show case for the little minx’s provocative dance routines.

Lara looked over the aged striper with undisguised contempt, noting the matronly figure upon which time (and gravity) had taken a heavy toll.

            “Hmnn...” she commented “Lady Giga's grandmother more like!”

            “Oh No No...” corrected Sir Goran “It is actually her. We abducted and modified her only last month. “

Lara gaped in open mouthed incredulity. Remembering that Lady Giga’s name had also been on the list of kidnapped celebrities. Whilst at the same time trying to imagine what sort of technology could possibly have transformed the slender pop nymphet into this sorry looking, wrinkled up old bag.

            “So... so that really was Halley Berry in that video?!?”

            “Oh yes... the young boys you saw so passionately rogering her are a team of Mediterranean toy boys I hired. We gave them a light hypnotic associative conditioning which makes them desire older women. And now they’re well paid and ecstatically happy in their work.”

            “Anyway shall we move on? There will be plenty of time for you to familiarise yourself with the club’s surroundings once you start working here!”

            With those ominous words Sir Goran ushered Lara through his club, with Lara voluptuous, black silk enswathed figure drawing many admiring glances and not a few wolf whistles from the lounging Aniliagan club members, and out through a door marked ‘exit’. They emerged into a long corridor along both sides of which were numerous doors. From the traffic moving up and down this corridor it was obvious that here was where the courtesans of the Anililagan club took their clients to conduct any private one on one business. Up ahead she could see a a blowsy looking matron in thickly caked on makeup dressed only in white fishnet stockings and garter belt leaning out of an open doorway giving in a passionate goodbye kiss to an obviously well satisfied customer.

            Lara and her captor were just passing them when the the middle aged blonde suddenly shouted out.

            “Lara... Lara Crawford! Don’t you recognise me? It’s me... Vikki!”

            Lara halted turning to scrutinised her more closely.

            “Vikki... Is that you...? Really?” exclaimed Lara shocked by her friends changed appearance. Victoria's thick garishly painted on makeup failed to conceal that her once unblemished face was now terribly lined and drawn. Her thick hair was piled high up unflatteringly upon her head and looked brittle and over starched. Her huge droopy shapeless boobs sagged down to her waist and her belly, ass and thighs created the impression that she had somehow recently put on about three stone.

            “Now. Now. Vikki...” chided Sir Goran ”Lara has no time to waste chattering with you... get back to work... there's a good girl... you wouldn't want another session in the behavioural modifier now would you?”

            Vikki blanched pale, stammered “no sir! Sorry sir!” And scuttled quickly off down the corridor, tottering unsteadily on her red five inch stiletto heels. Lara gazed after her in bewildered horror. she just couldn’t believe the state of Vikki's saggy collapsed backside, or the fact she could still see her friend’s floppy boobs swinging wildly from side to side as she hurried away.

Chapter Eight

            Stark lead Lara along another few further twists and turns until they approached another wing of his sprawling mansion. Waiting outside a pair of frosted glasses door with the words “SURGERY; NO ADMITTANCE” stencilled upon them stood a tall, well proportioned blonde wearing glasses and a long white coat. With her were an entourage of three young Japanese's girls all in sexy looking nurses uniforms.

            “Ah Lara meet Ms. Helena Troy.” said Sir Groan indicating the tall high cheek boned blonde “Helena here is our resident body modification specialist... She’s the one who will be supervising all your upcoming procedures.”

            “Well, Well... the famous Lara Crawford...” said Ms. Troy as she walked around Lara, eying her body up and down with a cold smile and a sadistic gleam in her eye. “I must admit I will enjoy working on you.” By now Ms. Troy’s nurses had also started to gather around Lara, forming a slowly closing semi-circle.

            Lara decided that things had gone far enough and that it was now time to act. She planned out her moves in advance; a back kick to disable Sir Goran. A low kick to displace Helena Troy’s kneecap and then a spinning roundhouse kick to floor the girl on her left. Her mental deliberations were abruptly interrupted by a sharp wasp like sting on her bum. She looked down to see a small feather tipped dart embedded in the meat of her right ass cheek. As she pulled out the dart she noted one of the Japanese nurses giggling and holding a tiny dart gun in her hand. She turned around to confront Helena Troy.

            “Bitch!” she said exclaimed succinctly, and then collapsed heavily to the floor.

Chapter Nine;

            When Lara came to again she found herself naked and strapped spread-eagling, belly down to a flat horizontal table in the shape of an X. Her arms and legs tightly bound, one to each extension. The table was not complete, two sections were missing; one from her mid torso to her elbows, allowing her breasts to hang down towards the polished floor and a second gap was missing from beneath her hips, so that the table supported her legs but ended at her upper thighs allowing her taut stomach to hang free. Lara began to pull at the leather straps securing her ankles and wrists... but they held firm.

            Sir Goran entered the room followed by Helena Troy and her gaggle of nurses.

            “Ah... Lara... Wide awake and ready for your make over are we?” he enquired jovially and was greeted by a stream of profanity, (very unbecoming of a member of the aristocracy.) in reply. (Lara really had no one but herself to blame for being so stupid as to blunder into this trap, but, refusing to admit this to herself, she was neither the less determined to take it out on whomever she did hold responsible.)

            “Ms. Troy will go now over the details of the upcoming procedures with you won’t you Helena?

            “Certainly Sir Goran...” Replied the glamorous blonde plastic surgeon “You see this tank over here Lady Crawford?”

            Lara craned her head round to view a large transparent tank resembling a water cooler refill sat atop a intricate looking machine with many plastic tubes dangling down underneath. This large bottle was filled with a sickly, yellow looking vicious fluid resembling linseed oil.

            “This is a vat of synthetic fat. A compound of my own creation. Once we attach these feed pipes...” she held up a handful of the long plastic tubes for Lara to see. “To your breasts, midriff and buttocks it will be slowly induced into the subcutaneous layers of your body. Where it will instantly combine with your body’s natural fat to produce the same results of months of forced feeding in little less than an hour. If you can imagine it, I think the best way to describe it is as a sort of ‘reverse liposuction’? The effect is I'm afraid, quite permanent. This fat deposit cannot be removed. Well... at leastways not without at the same time killing the patient. And, as it is artificial substance no amount of dieting or exercise will shift it. Once you’ve been remodel that’s the way you’ll stay... which of course is the whole idea isn’t it Sir Goran?”

            “It is indeed my dear... Well... shall we begin?”

            Lara raised her head and gave them both an unrepeatable (and unprintable.) piece of her mind.

            “Now now Lara...” scolded Sir Goran. “Manners.”

            Sir Goran and Helena Troy took a handful of feed pipes each and disappeared around Lara out of her line of sight. The next thing she knew Helena cool fingers were stroking the soft tan skin of her ass.

            “She really has got a perfect little ass on her don’t you think Sir Goran?”

            “Oh yes... absolutely marvellous...” agreed her employer also feeling the quality of Lara buttocks, which clenched and unclenched furiously at this over familiar treatment. “First class... A peach... Almost seems a pity to alter it!”

            “Oh it will still be there Sir Goran...” replied Helena breezily “It’s just that it’ll be buried underneath a thick pile of whale blubber that’s all.”

            One of Helena’s young Japanese assistants giggled like a school girl at this quip. The next thing Lara knew she felt a number of sharp pin pricks as if someone were using her ass as a dartboard. They were attaching the feed tubes! Each tube had a small bell shaped suction cup on the end which once pressed firmly on the skin drew a pinch of it up inside it thereby adhered itself firmly in position. At the same time a thin hypodermic needle slides down automatically penetrating the flesh to correct depth. Lara realised they were methodically covering both ass checks with these things.

            “Bastards! Get OFF me! Don’t you DARE pin those fucking things on my ass! I'll kill the lot of you! Aarghhh!!”

            “Quite noisy and aggressive isn't she?” observed Helena jabbing another feed tube onto Lara already pin-cushioned ass with perhaps more force than was strictly necessary.

            “Yes... but also quite helpless.” replied Sir Goran smugly.

            “This is a bit like playing ‘pin the tail on the donkey’ isn’t it?” commented Helena gaily; this witticism produced another round of girlish giggling from her childishly minded nurses.

            The pair now turned their attention to kneeling down and clipping more feed tubes around Lara's hips and belly, whilst the threats from supine action heroine continued unabated.

            They then moved on to her dangling breasts making sure that they two were generously covered with feed tubes. Unfortunately to do this Sir Goran had to move directly in front of Lara’s face (whilst staying sensibly out of bite range.) and the enraged Lara spat right in his face.

Unperturbed Sir Goran wiped his face clean with a silk handkerchief and patted Lara's hot cheek condescendingly.

            “Now now Lara... Behave... You’ll soon settle down... Once we’ve finished with you you’ll be a new woman... A considerable older one true... but much more placid and manageable.”

            Finally the last tubes were affixed in place and Sir Goran and Helena stepped back.

            “There all done.” Said Sir Goran with satisfaction “Helena... if you would do the honours.” Helena strode over to the synthetic fat drip feed control and, with a wicked smile cast in the direction of the helpless Lara, deliberately moved a circular dial over into the ‘ON’ position.

            “I’ve set this for ‘slow infusion’” said Helena “it should take around an hour to completely fill her out. The slower and smoother we do this the better the result. Poor Lara... All that dieting and exercising... All that working out! All for nothing... How sad!”

            She made some final adjustments to the machine and then stepped back.

            “Right that should do it...I’ll be back in an hour. By then you should have blimped out to the correct size. Akira keep an eye on Lady Crawford... any problems beep me.” Then, with with a swish of her long blonde hair, she turned and arm in arm with Sir Goran left the room.

            Lara was now alone except for her young Japanese attendant, who seemed far more interested in sitting in a chair and reading comic books than paying any attention to Lara. Certainly Lara's loudly yelled threats and attempts at bribing her fell upon deaf ears. Lara watched the liquid fat creep slowly along the pipes until eventually no clear pipe was visible and Lara was faced with the inescapable conclusion that it was now seeping directly into her body. As the minutes passed she groaned and shifted uncomfortably as she felt the skin her backside and breasts growing tight. Lara had spent many hours practicing Houdini style escapes but this particular type of bondage restraint proved at once simple, and yet totally effective. All her struggling achieved was some chafing on her wrists and ankles.

            Every now and then the nurse would arise and take a slow walk around Lara checking that all the feed tubes were still connected properly. There was a clock on the wall visible from Lara's position and she noted that a quarter of an hour had gone by. Gazing down at them Lara thought that her breasts certainly look swollen and (unless it was her imagination) they seemed hang lower, as if softening, losing their natural resilience. Her ass ached and burned like she had just been spanked and Lara could only assume that it two was steady growing larger. She was sure she could also feel her belly slackening... sagging down into the gap in the table. With every minute that went by her body was becoming more and more fat and deformed.

            Half an hour later and the effects were by now spectacularly evident. Lara’s melted, stretch marked breasts had drooped until now they almost touched the floor and her backside throbbed and seemed to almost palpitate as it was stuffed and stuffed to bursting with wobbly artificial fat. And she could feel the dead weight of her bulging gut hanging down into the space between the support boards of the table.

            The nurse lazily completed another of her period circuits of the recumbent Lara.

            “Tee hee hee” she giggled, in what Lara considered an intensely irritatingly manner. “Oh Lady Larwa...But my how fat you are getting... Tee hee hee.” if Lara could have gotten her hands free she would have throttled the little bitch.

            Upon the hour Helena Troy re-entered the room to check on her patient’s progress. She walked slowly around the prone and spread-eagled Lara obviously well please with the transformation achieved.

            “My my Lara... You’re looking splendid!” she exclaimed with undisguised satisfaction, slapping Lara hard on her grossly expanded buttocks and causing little wavelets of fat to ripple away like jello. This insurable insult was greeted by a torrent of abusive language from the indignant Lara.

            “Now for the final part of the process.” announced Helena. As Lara watched her with hate filled slitted eyes she retrieving what looked very much like a white kabuki style full face mask from a nearby box. She turned it around slowly in her hands, so that Lara could see the details more clearly. The front was an abstract of a classically beautiful face whilst the inside was smeared with some kind of yellowish compound. Straps dangled down from either side which would presumably allow it to be bound tightly to someone's face.

            “Prepare her” said Helena to one of the Japanese's nurses who knelt down in front of Lara and applied two white surgical plaster strips, one over each of Lara's eyes. Effectively blinding her.

            “We can’t have any of this stuff going in your eyes Lara. Very harmful...And your sight must be fully protected... otherwise you won't be able to fully appreciate what’s been done it you afterwards. “

            The nurse then forced a large square rubber mouth gag between Lara's teeth fastened it tightly in place and then began to used an applicator to to smear a kind of greenish paste all over Lara's face, until it was complexly covered like a spar mud facial.

            “Now...this is the tricky bit...” said Helena Troy “ The chemical mixture on the mask and the one on your face are both are inert whist separate... but put them together and you get a volatile and corrosive chemical reaction... one which won’t do that porcelain complexion of yours any good whatsoever. I like to think of as sort of... ‘Anti- Botox’. This is how we achieve the effect of prematurely aging our subjects.”

            Despite Lara’s futile struggles and muffled protests Helena then secured the mask tightly into place. It pressed in upon Lara’s face so snugly me that it didn’t even leave her with enough jaw room to open her mouth.

            Helena Troy placed her palms atop a nearby nearby waist high cabinet and, with a little lady like grunt of effort, hoisted herself up to seat her ass upon it. Sitting back she started to swing her long legs backwards and forwards a look of school-girlish glee upon her face. Helena Troy was experiencing a genuine sensation of schadenfreude here. Although, by conventional standards, she knew she would be regarded as a dazzlingly beautiful woman she was neither the less jealously aware that she was not as drop dead gorgeous as Lady Lara Crawford.

            “Can you feel it starting to get warm yet Lara?” she enquired gloatingly.

            “Murgh. Murfff!!” mumbled Lara intelligibly, who could feel the stifling face mask staring to get warm.

            “Can you feel it starting to itch yet?”

            “Murff! Murghhwf!!” exclaimed Lara yes she could indeed feel it starting to itch.

            “Can you feel it starting to burn now?”

            “MURRGH...MURRGHH!!!”

            Lara certainly could feel it starting to burn! Her arms began to pull against her leather wrist bonds. Her legs flexing and twisting against the ankle straps.

            “Can you feel it really starting to burn? Queried Helena delightedly.

“MUFGHHHH!!! GURFHHH!!” replied a by now frantic Lara her whole face felt like it was on fire and she began to trash around even more furiously in her restraints.

            Helena was really enjoying watching Lara jerking about in wild distress she knew that the chemical gel was already at work aging Lara's perfect face.

            “It’s a bit like copperplate etching Lara...” she commented “ the whole process has to be timed just right... keep that mask on too long and your face will be disfigured beyond Sir Goran’s exacting taste. Three minutes of wearing it should have the effect of putting about thirty years on that flawless face of yours.” Was her expert opinion.

            After a seemingly interminable period of time Helena Troy checked her watch.

            ”Right girls... take it off now... No wait” she she smirked cruelly and held up her hand. “I think we’d best give it another thirty seconds... just to make sure to do a really thought job.”

            Thirty agonising, excruciating seconds passed very slowly for Lara Crawford.

            “Okay... that should do it... remove her mask.” ordered Helena finally.

            One of the nurses quickly unbuckled the straps and removed the mask. Whilst another used a cloth, soaked in a neutralising agent to wipe away the dreadful concoction plastered on Lara's face. Then she used a damp face towelett to clean Lara's face completely.

            The eye protecting bandages were quickly striped off and the mouth guard removed. Lara gasped and chocked in relief, her face still tingling and burning, although the counteractive agent her face had been bathed in had to a large extent had soothed her of any residual irritation.

            Helena Troy was quick to hold a hand held mirror in front of Lara so that she could see herself. Lara gave a strangled gasp of horror at the sight which greeted her eyes.

            Her once beautiful face had been irrevocably vandalised. Deep lines and wrinkles were now gouged into the once smooth and youthful skin. The overall effect was hideous. Lara now looked ready to claim her free bus pass.

            “Now girls unstrapped Lady Crawford so that she can admire her new figure.”

            The trio of nurses busily undid the leather restrains and almost, before she was aware of it, the groggy Lara was hoisted onto her feet and turned to face a large floor to ceiling mirror. She couldn’t believe what its reflection revelled. Not only was her once youthful face now haggard and lined but her proudest assets, her magnificent breasts, dangled down like two big, floppy, empty shopping bags. Her waistline was hidden by the rolls of fat girdling her stomach and hips, her thighs quivered with rippling fatty flesh and her gigantic and saggy bottom stuck out behind her like a Kalahari bush woman's.

            Reeling backwards from the horrific image mirror with a strangled cry Lara spun around unsteadily, still uncoordinated due to her sudden weight increase and the drugs she'd been recently fed. All she could think of was taking her revenge on the smirking blonde bitch who had done this to her. She raised her hands like two claws and snarled at her tormentor. Suddenly she felt a pin prick on her left shoulder and her investigating hand plucked out another tiny dart. A wave of passive euphoria swept over her, instantly dousing her rage and numbing her mind.

            “Oh no... I’ve fell for the same trick again!” thought Lara as she slumped into the waiting arms the Japanese's nurses. Ms. Troy strode in front of her.

            “Take her through to ‘make-up’... See if they can’t tart her up and have her looking her best for when she is presented to Sir Goran.”

            Lara felt wonderful... but very sleepy... And, as the three nurses carried the her heavy, flabby naked body away, it amused Helena Troy greatly to note that the befuddled doped up aristocrat now had a big childish smile on her face.

            Chapter Ten;

            Sir Groan sat on a high backed chair, one hand absentmindedly stroking the the head of one of his full bodied wrinkled faced sex slaves.

            The recipient of his casual affection was a human lap dog nowadays known as ‘Fifi the French Poodle’, she was naked except for a dog chain around her neck and little ruffs of artificial fur around her wrists and ankles, all dyed the same vivid Day-Glo pink as the hair on her head.

            A few months ago ‘Fifi’ had been pop princess Kylee Minough, but, unfortunately for her, Sir Goran had long had a crush on the provocative little Australian pocket Venus. And so Kylee had one day found herself being kidnapped and dragged kicking and screaming into sir Goran’s on-site plastic surgery clinic for some extensive body re-modification. Needless to say Helena Troy had been overjoyed to have the world famous pop pixie’s child like body at her mercy.

            So that now as Kylee/ Fifi crouched obediently by her master’s feet, she was a sorry sight compare to the gold Lame hot pants wearing hottie in her videos. her once perky little breasts were all stretched out and wrinkled and her tight little butt (not so long ago famous as the best on the planet.) now covered by a thick padding of ugly cellulite, rather than looking twenty years younger than her actual age, as she used to, she now looked twenty years older than it.

            She was pathetically grateful for the ‘happy pills’ that Sir Goran feed to her as titbits, as they helped her to forget what she had once been, and benumb the horror of what she had now become.

            On a low dais in front of Sir Goran’s throne Lady Victoria Bentley lay on her back with the soles of her high heeled shoes pointing at the ceiling whist one of the club members enthusiastically humped himself up and down onto her. Victoria was giving pig like little squeals of pleasure as he thrust valiantly away.

            Helena Troy approached Sir Groan’s chair. Looking immaculate in her crisp pristine white smock.

            “Sir Goran... Her ladyship Lara Crawford is ready for your inspection now!”

            “Oh then by all means show her in.” said Sir Goran delightedly. 

            She snapped her fingers and a waiting Japanese's nurse scurried away returning moments later leading a scantily clad figure by a long dog chain.

            This woman was completely unrecognisable as the Lara Crawford who had entered Sir Goran mansion a mere twenty four hours ago. As she walked forward her naked, flaccid, vein mottled breasts swung loosely from side to side with every step. Her ugly distended nipples pointing directly towards the ground. Her flabby belly hung low enough to completely covered her pussy from the front and the white fatty flesh of her flabby thighs bulged out over the tops of her black fishnet stockings, from which crimson lined suspenders ran straight up to the tight looking high cut black bodice of whale bone reinforced silk which encircled her upper torso and over which her pendulous breasts dangled. Her arms, ensheathed in long black gloves, were securely fastened to this bodice by a clasp at the middle of her lower back. From behind her wide over hanging ass quivered with every step she took like a big pink Blancmange. Her auburn hair had been swept up into an elaborately coiffure hair style into which artificial highlights of white streaks now ran from her temples. Her wrinkled face was garishly pained up with heavy makeup which only emphasised its raddled appearance. All in all she looked more like a woman in her sixties than her actual age of thirty two.

            As if sleepwalking Lara approached Sir Goran’s chair, bent forward and kissed him. Sir Goran returned her kiss whilst fondling her large low slung breasts and squeezing the cheek of her wide ass hard until his fingers sank into the soft yielding flesh.

            “Excellent Helena. “ He commented when he finally released her. The zombie like Lara strengthened up “You’ve done a really good job on her.”

            “Yes Sir Goran.” replied Helena proudly “and the best part of it is that she’ll stay looking exactly this way for years. Well... until genuine old age eventually sets in that is.”

            Sir Goran turned to Lara. “Now then my dear... have you still got the urge to kung fu us all to death?” Lara shook her head slowly. She felt drugged and confused, but she definitely didn’t feel aggressive... horny yes... but aggressive no!

            “Ahh yes... Good... all calmed down and relaxed now aren't we Lara? That'll be due to these little pills here I’ll warrant.” grinned Sir Goran, indicating a bowl of what looked like smarties on a small table near his throne like chair. “They’ve made a changed woman of you haven’t they? Nice and passive and compliant. Isn’t that so Lara?”

            “Yes sir.” slurred Lara, with little of the former Lara Crawford evident in either voice or expression.

            “And... randy? As well Lara?”

            “Y-yes sir” slurred Lara again, with the same stupid smile on her face. Sir Goran reached into the bowl and picked out a pill he held it out to Lara who bent down and obediently stuck out her tongue for it. He placed the pill upon her tongue and Lara swallowed it automatically.

            “I know... And these little pills will keep you that way. There’re powerful, fast acting and extremely addictive. here take another one from a bowl.” Lara picked a second one and swallowed it.

            Of course now Fifi wanted one and sat up whining and whimpering for a pill. (Sir Goran followed the American practice of de-voiced his pets, and had had Helena sever Kylee's vocal cords. So now Kylee was unable to speak or make much in the way off noise. Needless to say this also had the effect of permanently destroying her beautiful singing voice...but neither Sir Goran nor Helena was much concerned over that.) She put her front paws together in a begging pose whilst sticking out her own lolling tongue out and giving quick little pants. Sir Goran had smiled affectionately and fed her a few pills to keep her quite.

            By now he had noticed that a beatific smile had crept over Lara's raddled face. Sir Goran smiled to himself in anticipation.

            “Now... I expect you’ll want to have some fun? Won’t you Lara?” Lara nodded her head loosely up and down.

            “Mario!” he called instantly and a young boy naked except for small bathing trunks appeared. Lara recognised him as one of the same youths that had taken part in an earlier orgy she had seen somewhere... but where? It was so hard to think... Something about Halley Berri? And a DVD? No...It was no use... Lara’s mind was in a fog! The only thing that seemed real or important to her was her sex fuelled desire to be fucked long and hard!

            Sir Goran handed Lara's lead over to the boy and said;

            “Take charge of Lara here Mario... she’s the next older lady who wants to make a film with you and the lads.”

            Mario Led Lara way. At the far end of the room was a movie set where three other young boys were lounging around a large bed. Lara could dimly recall this set from somewhere... but couldn’t place it in context. The Camera men and film technicians waiting to start the shoot...

            Helena seated herself on a chair next to Sir Goran’s high chair and watched Lara Crawford being led away with a mixture of emotions. On the one hand she would masturbate herself almost to unconscious tonight at the memory of what she had done to Lara's beautiful body. But at the same time, viewing it as it was now, sent a wave of nausea rippling through her. Helena hated the sight of old women... she had a morbid fear of growing old running in tandem with a narcissistic love and obsession with her own beautiful body. Indeed it was this fascinated phobia of aging which had first prompted her into her chosen profession of plastic surgeon. For Helena intended to preserve her own youth and beauty for as long as humanly possible. And so when Sir Goran had contacted her with this job offer it was like a dream come true, as she found she got an almost orgasmic thrill by doing to other beautiful young women what she most feared happening to herself.

            Because of this it was perhaps just as well that Helena was not privy to Sir Goran’s thoughts at that moment. For, as he glanced over at his blonde employee he was considering that Helena had been behaving more and more erratic and unstable of late and, as soon as he could, he intended to find a reliable male doctor who fully understood Helena techniques and procedures and replace her. And...As he couldn’t very well just dismiss her, he might as well add the sexy beautiful but vain doctor to his menagerie of aged sex slaves. His eyes roved over her slim, vibrant body. Yes... he would ensure that this particular one was especially fat, wrinkled and saggy breasted by the time he was done with her.

            Whist both thus were engaged in their separate lines of thought Mario had gently led Lara towards the bed, where the other three young men began to divest themselves of their shorts, already they members were stiffening. One began to remove the cuffs holding her arms behind her back whilst the first boy clambered onto the bed drawing Lara on to it after him. Although her arms were now free Lara showed no inclination to violence. She seemed to have simply lost contact with her aggressive streak. The drugs had left her incapable of anger or defiance. She balanced unsteadily, her hands and knees sinking into the soft mattress play area, and began absently stroking Mario’s lean torso. One of the boys entered her from behind whilst another began to fondle and stroke her dangling breasts like he was milking a cow. The boy with the led guided Lara's unresisting head down to his crotch and after fondling his penis erect Lara took him in her mouth. Whilst one boy humped her energetically from behind she slobbered away cock sucking, whilst both hands engaged in bringing to firmness the members of the two remaining young men as they fondled and massaged her wrinkled body.

            Helena Troy leaned closer to Sir Goran, obviously enjoying the spectacle of Lara’s involuntary debasement.

            “Well I'll say that about her.. She might not look like much these days Sir Goran... but she can certainly fuck!” commented Helena spitefully “She’s doing a fantastic job on those boys... For a woman her age that is!”

            “Yes...” said Sir Goran. “I’m confident that Lady Lara Crawford will become one of The Anililagan Clubs biggest star attractions... And what’s more she’ll be delighted and proud about that status won’t you Lara?”

            “Urghph... Fummph...” murmured Lara from around a mouthful of cock.

The End

As usual feedback appreciated.