The Supernatural Adventures Of Lara Croft

BY : CrossroadsMk2
Category: +S through Z > Tomb Raider (all) > Tomb Raider (all)
Dragon prints: 23666
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. I do not own the Tomb Raider game, Lara Croft or any of the other characters in it. I do not make any money from writing these stories.

This story was requested by Shade333, who came up with the initial concept and basic plot.  I originally wrote it as a standalone story, but I’ve decided to reformat it into chapters, as I plan to add more Tomb Raider supernatural/magic themed stories to this series in the future.


Lady Lara Croft smiled as she sunbathed in the grounds of her Abingdon Estate.  It was the middle of summer, and one of the rare days when Abingdon’s weather got above 30 degrees Celsius.  Lara rolled over onto her back, feeling a thrill of excitement as the warm breeze caressed her naked breasts.  Winston, her devoted butler, hated it when she chose to sunbathe naked outdoors.

“What if someone sees you?” he would always argue in his worried, exasperated voice.  “Think of the scandal!”

Lara had overruled his concerns.  All of her household staff were away on holidays: Zip and Alistair had gone to Las Vegas, and the gardeners and cleaners had been given 2 weeks off to visit their families.  Croft Manor was practically deserted.  Besides, Lara simply hated tan lines.

Lara distantly heard the sound of a vacuum cleaner, and realised that Winston must be cleaning the upper bedrooms.  Looking around to make sure that she was alone, she grinned and reached down between her legs.  Being naked outside always made Lara excited.  She bit her lower lip and playfully caressed her nipple with her right hand, while the fingers of her left hand flicked gently across her clitoris.  Lara knew that she was an exhibitionist; it helped to explain the revealing, skin-tight outfits that she chose to wear.  Masturbating outside, where anyone might catch her, was thrilling.

Lara moaned and spread her legs apart, while continuing to rub her clitoris up and down.  She ran her right hand down her flat stomach and over her right hip, before moving it up again to squeeze her left breast.  She closed her eyes and imagined a paparazzi photographer hiding in the bushes, filming her erotic display.  She imagined censored versions of the photographs appearing in the gossip magazines, with uncensored pictures and videos being posted to porn websites.  She imagined millions of men staring at her sexy naked body while they masturbated.

Lara moaned more loudly, feeling the orgasm building inside her.  Then her phone rang.  Lara grunted in frustration.  She considered not answering it, but she had been waiting for this phone call.

“Yes?” Lara answered into her phone.

“Lara, it’s Harvey.  I have news about that artefact you’ve been looking for: I’ve found it!” The male voice on the other end of the line answered.

“The Idol of Hathor?  Where is it?” Lara answered, unable to contain her excitement.

“First, there’s the small matter of my fee?” Harvey ventured.

“10 thousand pounds, as agreed – if your information is good.” Lara answered.

“I was thinking more like 20 thousand.” Harvey countered.

“20 thousand pounds for information?  That’s outrageous!” Lara shouted back.

“It’s not just information.  I’ve seen it with my own eyes.” Harvey said.

“You’ve seen it?  Where?” Lara asked excitedly.

“My money?” Harvey prompted.

“15 thousand pounds.” Lara said.

“17.” Harvey replied.

“16.” Lara countered.

“Deal!  It’s in a small village in northern Sudan, near the Egyptian border.  I’ll text you the exact location as soon as the money is in my account.  You know, I’ll be in London a week from now.  We should really catch up for…” Harvey said.

Lara hung up the phone and donned her white robe, before walking back inside to find Winston.

“Winston, pack my things and call ahead to the airport.  I’m off to Africa.” Lara said.

“Very good, Milady.” Winston answered.

Lara transferred the money to Harvey’s bank account and dressed in some travelling clothes.  These were just ordinary clothes – jeans, t-shirt and boots.  She’d change into her tomb raiding gear once she arrived at her destination.  The UK police didn’t look too kindly upon people walking around with twin semi-automatic pistols strapped to their hips.  It was a 2 hour drive to Heathrow Airport, where a chartered Gulfstream jet waited to fly her direct to Khartoum International Airport in Sudan.  From there, it would be a full day’s travel by car to reach the Nubian Village where the Idol of Hathor was located.

International travel had become more problematic for Lara in recent years.  The threat of terrorism had made customs officials more vigilant.  That made it more difficult for people like her to smuggle weapons in, and more importantly, to transport ancient artefacts out.  Luckily for her, Sudan was massively corrupt, and a few bribes was all it took for the local officials to look the other way.  A few more payments secured her official travel documents and the loan of a vehicle.

Lara would have preferred her trusty Land Rover, but a beat-up white Toyota Hilux utility was the only option available.  Lara departed from the airport with her large duffel bag (which airport security had “forgotten” to check).  As soon as she was out of sight of the airport, she pulled over and changed into her tomb raiding gear.  Five minutes later, she was back on the road, driving north.  She was wearing her customary green fitted tank top, a pair of tight brown shorts and black shin-high combat boots.  Around her waist was a thick black gun belt with two drop-down thigh holsters.  Spare magazines sat in pouches on her hips, and a pair of Heckler and Kosh USP 9mm pistols were holstered on her thighs.

The trip went off without a hitch.  Lara kept to the backroads, bypassing the major army checkpoints.  She arrived at the Nubian Village just before nightfall.  The village was a primitive affair: two dozen buildings with mud brick walls and dried grass roofs.  Four tall black men, dressed in long red traditional Nubian robes met her at the outskirts of the village, and Lara’s eyes were drawn to the AK47 assault rifles slung casually over their shoulders.

Lara reached into her duffle and slung a small brown backpack over her shoulders.  She walked right up to the group, forcing herself to show no fear.  They were all more than a head taller than her, and she had to crane her neck upwards to see their faces.

“Hello boys.  I’d like to speak to your chief, if that would be alright.” Lara said confidently.

The four men looked her up and down, and then smiled broadly.

“Mr Harvey tell us you coming.  I Prince Akola, King’s son.  You follow.” One of them said in heavily accented, broken English.

Lara followed Prince Akola into the village.  The other three men fell into step behind her.  Lara walked confidently, with her head held high.  Appearances were everything in these first meetings, and it was important that she not show any signs of weakness.  Lara saw some women in traditional dress staring at her from their doorways.  Several of them were nursing babies in their arms.  Akola led Lara into a building that was much larger than the others.  From her extensive knowledge of primitive cultures, Lara reasoned that this must be the Tribal Chieftain’s residence.

Lara walked inside, where an older tribesman was seated on a primitive-looking wooden throne, while a second even taller tribesman was standing next to him.  This man was a giant, at least 6’10” tall, aged in his late 20’s and very muscular.

“Lady Croft, I’m very pleased to meet you.  I am Prince Ammon, and this is my father, King Ajola.” Prince Ammon said in perfect English.

King of a Village, Lara thought?  Just another jumped up native with delusions of grandeur, more likely.

“So far, I’ve met nothing but Princes in your village.” Lara said conversationally.

“That is hardly unsurprising Lady Croft, for you see all of the men in this village are the sons of King Ajola, so therefore all are Princes.” Prince Ammon answered smoothly.

Also unsurprising, Lara thought.  Polygamy was a common practice among the Nubian tribes.  Most men would take on 2 or 3 wives, while a King might have more than a dozen wives at one time.  That did raise another question, though.

“Where are all the other men: the ones who aren’t your brothers?” Lara asked.

“It is our custom that when a new King is chosen, all of his brothers and their families must relocate to the neighbouring villages.” Prince Ammon answered.

“You speak very good English.” Lara commented.

“As the eldest son, my father insisted on sending me to England, to get a proper Western education.  What you see here is a single village, but my father is the King of many hundreds of my people, and our land has many rich mineral deposits desired by outsiders like yourself.” Prince Ammon explained.

“I assume you know why I’m here?” Lara asked.

“The Idol of Hathor, the Egyptian Goddess of Love and Fertility.” Prince Ammon said.

King Ajola said something in his native tongue.

“We have already explained to Mr Harvey that the Idol is not for sale.” Prince Ammon said.

“I’m prepared to pay you handsomely for it…” Lara began.

“It is not a question of money.  The Idol of Hathor is cursed.  It cannot be removed from the shrine without grave consequences.” Ammon explained.

“Could I at least see it?” Lara asked.

King Ajola and his son spoke at length, before Ammon finally answered her request in English.

“King Ajola is prepared to let you study the Idol of Hathor, if you agree to have sex with him.” Prince Ammon said.

Lara visibly reddened.

“I beg your pardon!” Lara replied, outraged.

The king spoke again in his native langue, and Ammon translated.

“King Ajola has over a dozen wives, but he has never enjoyed the body of a white woman, especially one as beautiful and high born as yourself.  As a Noble Lady, you would make a fitting concubine for the King.” Prince Ammon explained.

“It’s out of the question.” Lara said.

“Then I am afraid that the Idol of Hathor will remain hidden.” Prince Ammon said apologetically.  “I will escort you back to your car.”

“Wait!” Lara said.

Was she really considering going through with this?  On the one hand, she would effectively be prostituting herself to obtain the artefact; but on the other hand, a find like this could get her name back in the papers, and show all of those stuffy archaeology professors that she was just as good as they were.

“Just him, in private: no witnesses or cameras, and it will remain a secret that does not leave this room.” Lara said.

Ammon turned to King Ajola and explained Lara’s terms.  The king smiled broadly and nodded his head in agreement.

“My brother will leave, but I will remain to translate the King’s wishes.” Prince Ammon said.

Lara watched as the grinning Akola left the dwelling.  She felt the stirring of excitement at the thought of having sex in front of an audience, even if it was only one other person.

“One last thing: the King desires to sodomise you.” Prince Ammon said.

“What?” Lara asked incredulously.

“Anal sex is forbidden among my people.  As an outsider, the King feels he can make an exception in your case, and not anger the Gods.” Prince Ammon said.

Lara hesitated for a moment, and then reached down and unclipped her gun belt and thigh holsters.  Remember, you’re doing this for the Idol, Lara told herself, as she undid her combat boots one at a time, and then slid off her boots and socks.  Both tribesmen were watching her intently, whispering softly to each other in Nubian.  Lara blushed as she lifted her tank top up over her head, and then slid her tight brown shorts down off her hips.  Lara was now standing in only her underwear, and King Ajola said something to Ammon.

“The king says you have an excellent body.  You would breed many strong sons.” Prince Ammon said.

Lara blushed at the compliment, as she reached behind her back and unclipped her bra.  She took it off, exposing her large, perfect breasts to the two tribesmen.  King Ajola nodded his approval.  Last to go were Lara’s panties.  She slid them down her long legs, exposing her tight, shaved pussy.

King Ajola gave Ammon instructions.

“The King would like you to spin around and show him your body.” Prince Ammon said.

Lara turned on the spot, giving King Ajola a full view of her gorgeous naked body.  King Ajola stood up.  He was a bear of a man, standing around 6’6” tall, with broad shoulders, a barrel chest and a thick black beard, streaked with grey.  Aged in his early 50’s, the King’s stomach had started to turn to fat with age, but his arms were still thickly muscled and he had the look of a grizzled warrior.  As Lara turned, King Ajola moved up behind her and roughly fondled her breasts, squeezing them as one might a piece of fruit when determining its ripeness.  Lara shivered as he ran his hands down her flat stomach and between her legs.  Lara blushed with shame as the King’s fingers touched her pussy and felt her wetness.  The King spoke to Ammon.

“The King is pleased that you are wet for his cock.” Ammon said smiling.  “Kneel down and get the King’s cock ready.” Prince Ammon said.

Lara looked at him confused.  “What do you mean, ready?” Lara asked.

“We do not have any of your fancy western lubricants here, Lady Croft.  You will have to use your saliva, or the anal sex will be quite painful, I am afraid.” Ammon said.

Frowning, Lara turned around and knelt down in front of the King.  His cock was already erect, 8 inches long and poking out from his curly black pubic hair.  Lara dribbled saliva into her right hand and started rubbing it onto the King’s large cock.  At the same time, she spat more saliva into her left hand and reached back between her ass cheeks, slowly rubbing her saliva into her sphincter.  When the King’s cock was gleaming wet with her saliva, Lara got down on her hands and knees and started sliding one of her wet fingers in and out of her tight sphincter.  She dribbled more saliva onto her hand and repeated the procedure, this time adding a second finger.  When she was satisfied, she looked back over her shoulder at Prince Ammon.

“I’m ready.” Lara said, trying not to sound intimidated.

King Ajola knelt down behind her and spat more saliva down onto his cock, before pressing it forward.  Lara felt the thick head of his cock slide between her round ass cheeks and press against her asshole.  She took a deep breath and tried to relax her muscles, as she felt her asshole slowly distending inwards around the King’s large cock.  Despite her outwardly sophisticated persona, Lara was actually something of an anal princess, although she kept that particular fact a closely guarded secret.  Lara’s anus stretched open around the large black cock, before swallowing it inside.

The King smiled and grabbed two handfuls of Lara’s hourglass hips, using them as handles to push his cock further inside her asshole.  Lara shivered, as she felt his thick cock slide deeper inside her rectum.  The King pushed forward, inch by inch, until he was balls deep inside her ass, and Lara felt his wiry public hair tickling her soft skin.  King Ajola pulled back so that his cock was about half way out of Lara’s asshole, before thrusting forward powerfully.

Lara grunted and her whole body shook from the force of his thrust.  He pulled half way out and slammed forward again, and again.  Lara rocked back and forth on her hands and knees, and her large breasts swung pendulous beneath her chest.  The King started breathing heavily, as he relentlessly pounded his cock in and out of her asshole.  Lara blushed at the animalistic grunting noises the King was making as he fucked her, and the indecent sound his heavy balls made as they slapped against her crotch.  He was fucking her so hard that each thrust caused the tight flesh of Lara’s bubble butt to ripple like a pond.

The King gave one last loud grunt and then buried himself balls deep inside Lara’s stretched asshole.  A moment later, Lara felt warm cum filling the insides of her bowels.  King Ajola shot jets of sticky cum deep inside Lara’s asshole, before finally pulling out.  Lara felt a small trickle of cum spill out from her slightly gaping asshole and dribble down her inner thigh.  King Ajola spoke again to his son.

“The King thanks you for your service.  If you would like to dress, we will lead you to the Idol.” Prince Ammon said.

Lara would rather have showered first, but the lascivious way King Ajola was staring at her made her think that if she remained naked in his presence, he might suddenly demand additional “favours” from her.  When Lara was fully clothed again, with her twin pistols strapped to her thighs and her backpack slung over her shoulders, King Ajola and Prince Ammon led her from the hut.  They walked a short distance to another hut.  On the surface, it appeared identical to the others in the village.  When they went inside, Lara saw a simple interior, with a small cot bed against one wall, and a wooden table and two chairs sitting atop an old rug.  King Ajola and Prince Ammon lifted the table and chairs aside and then folded back the rug.  They used their bare hands to clear away the top layer of packed soil, to reveal a heavy stone trap door set into the floor.

It took the combined strength of both men to lever the heavy trap door open.  Prince Ammon left the hut and retuned with 3 torches, which he threw down the hole.

“After you, Lady Croft.” Prince Ammon said.

Lara climbed approximately 4 metres down the ladder and then pulled a lighter from her backpack.  She picked up one of the thrown torches and set it alight.  The flaming torch cast flickering shadows across the walls, as Lara examined her surroundings.  She was in an ancient stone tomb.  The floor was covered in dust, but there was a clear patch of floor which indicated that people had walked through here recently.

“This way, Lady Croft.” Prince Ammon said.

The King and Prince led Lara through a series of narrow labyrinthine corridors, towards a rectangular central crypt with a high ceiling supported by 6 enormous stone columns.  At the other end of the crypt was an altar.  Lara walked towards the altar and saw that it was covered in Egyptian hieroglyphs, but upon closer inspection, it appeared that those hieroglyphs had been written over even older writing that was too faded for her to make out.  This was not unusual: many rising religions appropriated iconography and holy relics from those that they had replaced.

Sitting atop the altar was a 6 sided obelisk made from strikingly blue Lapis Lazuli.  The obelisk was approximately 12 inches tall and 6 inches wide, and tapered slightly from its broad base towards its angular tip.  Lara laid down her flaming torch and picked up the obelisk.  The sides were richly decorated with Egyptian hieroglyphs inlaid with gold, which depicted the Goddess Hathor.  Lara turned the Idol of Hathor over in her hands, and saw more writing on the base of the obelisk, but it was written in an unknown language that she had never seen before.

“Where did you get this?” Lara asked Prince Ammon.

“It has always been here.  Our ancestors understood how to unlock the full powers of the Idol, but that knowledge has been lost to time.  I should warn you, Lady Croft, that the Idol is cursed.” Prince Ammon said.

“I don’t believe in curses.” Lara said.

“It is true.  Any person who removes the Idol from the shrine is cursed by the Gods.  I have seen it with my own eyes.” Prince Ammon said.

“What kind of curse?” Lara asked, trying her best not to insult her hosts by dismissing their foolish tribal myths.

“We have used it as a punishment.  Whenever a woman is unfaithful to her husband, she is forced to remove the Idol from the Shrine.  The Idol drives her mad with lust, and she is passed around to all of the men in the village to use for their pleasure.  The curse continues until her punishment is concluded, and the Idol is returned to the Shrine.” Prince Ammon said.

“What happens if a man removes the Idol?” Lara asked.

“It drives him mad, and makes him masturbate until he dies from dehydration.” Prince Ammon said.

Lara nodded and unslung her backpack.  She opened the zipper and pulled out three small 1 kilogram gold bars, which she laid out on the altar.

Prince Ammon and King Ajola looked confused.

“What is that?” Ammon asked.

“That’s 3 kilograms of solid gold there, worth about 100 thousand pounds at the current exchange rate: A fair price.” Lara said.

“We told you the Idol is cursed.  It is not for sale.“ Prince Ammon said.

Lara was not at all impressed by their primitive superstitions.  Nothing in her research had mentioned anything about a curse.  She drew the pistol from her right holster and pointed it at the men.  They backed away from her, hands in the air.

“I’m afraid I have to insist.  Usually, I’d feel bad about doing this sort of thing, but since your King decided to fuck me in the ass, consider us even.” Lara said.

Keeping her gun trained on the two tribesmen, Lara reached behind her with her left hand and placed the Idol of Hathor inside her backpack.  She zipped up the backpack and slung it over her shoulder, but left the gold bars on the altar for the King: she was an archaeologist, not a thief.

King Ajola spoke angrily in his native tongue, and then Ammon translated.

“The King instructs me to warn you one final time not to take the Idol of Hathor.  Its curse will be your downfall, even if you are too blind and arrogant to see it.” Prince Ammon said.

Lara rolled her eyes at their superstitious beliefs.

“Stay still and nobody has to get hurt.” Lara answered, as she circled around the men and slowly backed out of the crypt.

Lara ran back the way she came, having memorised the route on the way in.  As she ran, she heard Prince Ammon’s voice echoing down the corridor behind her.

“You have no idea what you’ve done!  You will beg us to lift the curse, and the price of our mercy will be high!” Prince Ammon shouted after her.

Lara ran to the ladder and scaled it quickly.  Once through, she tried to close the stone trap door, but it was far too heavy for her to lift alone.  Thinking quickly, she dragged the cot bed over and placed it across the tomb’s entrance.  Then she stacked the table and chairs on top of it to weigh it down further.  It wouldn’t hold for long, but it should slow down King Ajola and Prince Ammon long enough for her to escape.  Even so, she’d still need a diversion.

It was completely dark now, which allowed Lara to sneak through the village unobserved.  She made her way back towards the King’s hut and held her lighter up to the dried grass roof.  Once it was fully alight, she ran stealthily through the huts towards the edge of the village and waited.  After a few minutes, the smoke started to rise and Lara heard shouting coming from the direction of the King’s hut.  The tribesmen guarding her vehicle ran back into the village.  Now was her chance.  Lara sprinted to the Toyota Hilux and keyed the ignition.  The engine roared to life, and she gunned the vehicle around 180 degrees, and accelerated away from the Village and out into the night.

Lara made the long drive back to Khartoum, stopping on the outskirts of the city to change back into her travel clothes.  She stashed her weapons and tomb raiding gear back inside her large duffle bag, along with the Idol.  Lara paid some more bribes to the Sudanese customs officials and then boarded her chartered jet back to England.  She decided to wear a knee length yellow sundress for the trip back to England.  Winston always liked it when she wore ladylike clothing.

Once they were safely in the air, Lara took out the Idol of Hathor and examined it more closely, paying particular attention to the unknown writing on the base.  The Idol itself definitely looked Egyptian, but the writing underneath it looked much older.  Perhaps it’s a variation of cuneiform, Lara thought.  She’d have to research it further once she got it back to her library inside Croft Manor.  Despite spending over 24 hours straight on the go, Lara slept fitfully on the plane ride back to England.  When she landed, she thanked the pilots and headed towards the taxi rank with her large duffel bag.

“Looking for a ride, Miss?” A fat, balding taxi driver asked.

“Thank you.” Lara said, placing her duffel bag in the trunk of the black London taxi and then climbing into the back seat.

“Where to?” The taxi driver asked.

Lara told him the address.

“That’s a long way.  Do you have enough money for that?” The taxi driver asked.

Lara gave him a superior look and then handed him 200 pounds.

“I think that should cover it.” Lara said in her best posh accent.

The taxi pulled away from the airport terminal and onto the motorway.  Lara saw the fat taxi driver looking at her in his rear vision mirror.  It was obvious he was perving at her.  Lara tried her best to ignore him, and looked out the window at the passing countryside.  As they drove along, the taxi driver reached down into his pants and started rubbing his cock.  Lara unconsciously spread her legs apart and started rubbing her pussy through jeans.  The taxi driver’s eyes widened, as if this was his lucky day.  He pulled off the motorway into a deserted rest stop area.

“Why are we stopping?” Lara asked, completely unaware that she was still rubbing herself through her jeans.

The taxi driver climbed out and opened the rear door.

“You’re a dirty girl, aren’t you?” The taxi driver said, unzipping his fly and exposing his erect cock.

“You’re disgusting!” Lara said, reaching forward and wrapping her fingers around 5 inch long cock.

Lara grimaced distastefully at the taxi driver.  He was balding, aged in his late forties or early fifties and very overweight.  His uniform was ill-fitting and covered in food stains, and his cock was short and fat, just like him.

“I’m going to report you to the Taxi Services Commission!” Lara said angrily, as she expertly stroked his cock to full hardness.

“Stop talking and show me your tits!” The fat taxi driver said.

“As if I would…” Lara started to say, but the words caught in her mouth as her hands reached up and pulled the straps of her yellow sundress down off her naked shoulders.  Then she reached behind her back and unclipped her bra.

“Nice!” The disgusting taxi driver said, reaching forward and fondling her large breasts.  “Now show me the rest!”

“This is wrong!” Lara said, panicking as her hands reached down and hitched up the bottom of her sundress over her hips, so that it bunched around her tiny waist.  A moment later, she slid her black panties down her long legs, exposing her tight smooth pussy to the disgusting taxi driver.

“Very nice.” The taxi driver said, moving forward.

Lara immediately spread her legs apart for him.

“How are you doing this?” Lara asked, as she reached forward and resumed stroking the taxi driver’s fat cock, while her other hand reached down and rubbed her own pussy.

The taxi driver frowned in confusion.  “You are one crazy lady.” The taxi driver said, removing his poorly ironed shirt to reveal his overweight, hairy torso.

The taxi driver undid his pants and pulled them down around his ankles, before kneeling between Lara’s legs and pressing his swollen cock against her pussy.  He grunted in pleasure, as his cock was enveloped by Lara’s warm, wet pussy.  Lara moaned, and then her eyes widened in surprise at how good the penetration felt to her.  Lara was a bit of a size queen, so the taxi driver’s rather average sized cock should not have felt this good.

Lara grimaced in disgust, as the taxi driver pressed his hairy, blubbery body against hers.  Her body continued to move like it had a mind of its own.  Lara’s long legs wrapped themselves around the taxi driver’s thick waist, while her arms encircled his fat neck and back.  The taxi driver was clearly out of shape, and he grunted breathlessly as he pounded into her pussy.  He was sweating heavily, and thick lines of perspiration were dripping off his overweight body, down onto Lara.

“Ewww, you are revolting.” Lara said, turned her head away from the stench of his sweaty, hairy body, even as her hips gyrated against him to match the rhythm of his thrusts.

“Ohhhh, I’m going to cum!” The taxi driver grunted.

“Don’t you dare!” Lara said, while her legs clamped down around his back, preventing him from pulling out.

“Ahhhhh!” The taxi driver moaned, as he came.

“Fuck!” Lara moaned, burying her head against the taxi driver’s sweaty, hairy shoulder.

She felt the taxi driver spurting his sticky cum against the back of her pussy.  Lara’s whole body shook, and she seemed to orgasm in perfect sync with each of his spurts.  When the taxi driver had fully drained his balls inside Lara pussy, he pulled out and pulled up his pants.  The whole encounter had lasted about 5 minutes.  There was no way that a talentless, selfish lover like this should have been able to make her cum in that short a time.

Lara realised that she could move her body again, or rather that her body had stopped moving on its own.  Blushing heavily with shame at what she had just done in the backseat of a taxi, she pulled her bra and panties back on, and then straightened out her crumpled yellow sundress as best she could.  The taxi driver did up his dirty shirt, closed the back door of the taxi, and climbed back into the driver’s seat.  It took the taxi another 90 uncomfortable minutes to reach Croft Manor.  When they finally arrived, the taxi meter read 205 pounds.

“Don’t worry about the difference.  I think you earned a discount.” The taxi driver said winking.

5 pounds! Lara thought.  She’d had sexy with that fat, hairy pig, and all he was giving her was a 5 pound discount on her fare!  Lara had never felt lower or cheaper in her life.  Before she could argue, the taxi driver unceremoniously dumped her duffle bag down onto the gravel driveway and drove off.  Still fuming, Lara walked up to the front door.  She rang the doorbell, and 30 seconds later Winston answered the door.

“Milady, was your trip a success?” Winston asked.

“Yes.” Lara answered after a moment’s hesitation.

She thought it best that her oldest friend not find out that she’d just had sweaty, unprotected sex in the back of a taxi with an anonymous taxi driver.  Winston gave Lara a confused look, as he smelled the stench of the taxi driver’s body odour on her.  Lara blushed and pushed past him, walking quickly towards the library.

Lara placed the Idol of Hathor on her large, heavy wooden desk and stared at it thoughtfully.  Lara was much too intelligent to believe in coincidences: the episode in the taxi had to have something to do with the Idol of Hathor.  Lara re-read her father’s research notes on the Idol, but nowhere did it mention anything about mind control or bodily possession.  This thing is too dangerous to leave out; I’d better lock it up in the vault until I’ve figured out what to do with it, Lara thought.

Lara took the Idol of Hathor downstairs to the basement, and secured it inside the Croft family vault.  Then she went upstairs to wash the taxi driver’s stench off her body.  It was early morning, but Lara felt incredibly tired as her jetlag finally caught up with her.  She went to bed and slept for several hours, waking up just after midday.  It was another glorious summer day, and Lara decided that a refreshing swim might help her forget the humiliating events of that morning.  She opened her wardrobe and dressed in a black thong bikini.  Winston hated it when she wore such revealing outfits, which always made Lara smile.  She grabbed a white towel and headed downstairs.

“I’m going for a swim.” Lara said, as she strode towards the Manor’s conservatory, which Lara had converted into a heated indoor pool.

“A pool cleaner is in there at the moment, Milady.  I’ll go and see how long he’ll be.” Winston said.

“No need.” Lara answered, walking gracefully past him in her skimpy bikini.

Winston was flabbergasted by her indecent attire, but he was enough of a professional not to comment on it, instead limiting himself to a disapproving stare.  Lara walked confidently into the observatory, where a young blonde pool cleaner was busy cleaning and replacing the pool’s filters.  He was about 20 year old, with an athletic build, and he was wearing a blue polo shirt, blue knee-length shorts and white runners.  He looked up and his eyes practically fell out of his head when he saw Lara walk in.  She looked like a Victoria’s Secret Supermodel.  His eyes were drawn up her sexy, naked legs, to the brief bikini bottoms covering her crotch.  His gaze travelled along her smooth hips and tiny waist, and then lingered over her large D-cup breasts, which seemed to be barely contained by the thin black material of her bikini top.

When he finally tore his eyes away from Lara’s chest, he looked at her beautiful face and their eyes met.  He immediately blushed and looked away in embarrassment.  Lara grinned.  She had always enjoyed the power she had over men: her ability to make them feel self-conscious and uneasy.  Lara turned around and deliberately bent over and placed her towel onto one of the deck chairs that surrounded the pool.  The pool cleaner clenched his teeth, as his eyes were drawn to Lara’s perfect, bubble shaped ass, which was completely naked except for the thin black thong that bisected her round butt cheeks.

Lara turned and lay down on the seat.  She grinned as she saw an erection clearly visible through the front of the pool cleaner’s blue length shorts.  Lara lay back on the deck chair and pretended to ignore the pool cleaner, while he continued to clean the pool filters.  The pool cleaner cast furtive looks at Lara’s breasts: they seemed to almost defy gravity; how can breasts that large look so perky and perfect, he wondered.  Lara’s hands reached behind her back and undid the strings holding her black bikini top in place.  The pool cleaner’s breath caught in his throat, and a look of shock appeared on his face.

“Is something wrong?” Lara asked innocently, completely unaware that she had just removed her bikini top and her naked breasts were now showing.

“Ah… nothing wrong, Miss.” The pool cleaner said, going back to his task while staring at her from the corner of his eyes.

“Wake me when you’re finished.” Lara said imperiously, reclining backwards on the deck chair.

Sunlight was streaming in through the windows and panelled glass ceiling of the conservatory, and it felt good on her skin.  She closed her eyes and smiled.  The pool cleaner watched as Lara ran her hands seductively over her breasts.  He finished swapping out the filters as quickly as he could and then expectantly approached the reclining topless goddess.  The sight of her naked breasts was driving him crazy, and his hard cock was pitching a tent in his shorts.  Lara bit her lower lip as she felt herself becoming incredibly horny.

“I’m finished, Miss.” The pool cleaner said.

Lara opened her eyes and sat up.  Her hands reached up to his waist and untied the front of his shorts.  Oh no, not again! Lara thought, as her delicate fingers moved with a mind of their own, reaching into his underpants and exposing his cock.  Lara and the young pool cleaner stared at each other in shock.

“I don’t…” Lara started to say, before her body bent forward and pressed her mouth down around the young man’s cock.  Lara’s head pressed forward until her lips were wrapped around the base of his cock, and her nose was buried in his soft blonde pubic hair.  Lara was held there for a moment, gagging around the cock buried in her throat, before she pulled backwards.  She looked down and saw long strings of saliva hanging down between her soft red lips and his wet cock.  Before she could say anything else, her head moved forward and she deep throated him again.

The blonde pool cleaner moaned as Lara bobbed her head up and down on his cock.  He reached down and fondled Lara’s perfect breasts.  He would have given anything to fuck them.  As if on cue, Lara pulled back off his cock and grabbed the sides of her large breasts, pressing them up and together.

“This isn’t me.” Lara tried to say, but her words were garbled as she dribbled a long stream of saliva out of her mouth and down into the valley of her cleavage, lubricating it.  Lara lay backwards on the deck chair, and the pool cleaner steeped forward and straddled her chest.

“What am I doing?” Lara asked aloud, as the pool cleaner slid his cock up between her round breasts and pushed forward.

The pool cleaner moaned in pleasure, as he slid his cock in and out between Lara’s cleavage.  Lara bit her lower lip and moaned in pleasure, though she couldn’t understand why.  The pool cleaner vigorously fucked her tits, holding nothing back.  Lara moaned wantonly, as his cock slid in and out between her breasts.  Several minutes later, he came.  Lara orgasmed powerfully, as the pool cleaner shot thick spurts of warm cum against her neck and the underside of her chin.

“Oh, that was amazing!” the pool cleaner said.

Lara was about to reply, when she looked up in horror and saw Winston staring at her, mouth agape.  She found she could move again and covered her naked chest with her towel, while the pool cleaner fumbled with his shorts.

“My apologies, Lady Croft.  I just came to see if the pool cleaner was finished.” Winston said, making a point of not looking at her,

“He’s quite finished.” Lara said, blushing with shame.

The pool cleaner smiled at her dumbly, as she wrapped the towel around her naked upper body and walked quickly from the room.  That taxi driver had been humiliating enough, but having Winston witness her being titty fucked made her want to die from the embarrassment.  Lara’s mind raced at what had just occurred.  It had happened again, but this time she wasn’t anywhere near the Idol.  Lara walked downstairs to the basement and opened the thick steel door that led inside her vault.  Turning on the lights, she moved to the shelf that held the Idol of Hathor and examined it carefully.

Hathor was the Egyptian Goddess of Love, and the sides of the idol were covered in standard Egyptian hieroglyphs depicting the various aspects of the Goddess Hathor – nothing unusual there.  She turned it over and examined the strange writing on the base.  That must be the key to undoing this curse.  Lara took the idol upstairs to Zip’s computer lab and uploaded a photo of the writing.  Then she ran an advanced translation and decryption program that she’s commissioned Zip to design for her.  The program compared the writing on the Idol to every language and code, ancient and modern, in known existence, looking for familiar patterns.  The program would take several hours to run.  In the meantime, Lara would have to try and avoid other people in case she had another “episode”.

“Lara, is everything alright?” Winston asked.

Lara wanted to tell him to go away, before she tried to have sex with him.  Winston was her oldest friend and had practically raised her after her mother and father had died.  She would be crushed if their relationship was ruined by this curse.

“It’s this artefact.  It’s cursed.  It’s making me do things.” Lara said, trying not to look at him, in case her body started making sexual moves.

Winston placed a reassuring hand on Lara’s shoulder.  He was aware of Lara’s supernatural adventures, and knew better that to question her judgement.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Winston asked.

Lara was about to answer, when she noticed that her body was not making any moves to seduce him.  She thought back to the taxi driver.  Her body had only begun acting with a mind of its own after the taxi driver had started perving at her; and it was the same with the pool cleaner.  Winston viewed Lara as a surrogate daughter, and he didn’t think of her in that way.  He wasn’t sexually attracted to her, so the Idol had no interest in him.  Lara thought about the orgasms she had experienced while fucking the taxi driver and pool cleaner.  She had been surprised that the clumsy taxi driver had made her cum at all, but cuming from being titty fucked should have been impossible.  It was almost as if she was experiencing sex from the perspective of the men fucking her: she orgasmed when they orgasmed.

“Winston, I need you to cancel all of my appointments until I sort this out.” Lara said.

“Understood, Milady, but you do have the Oxford University Archaeology Society Dinner tonight.  What should I tell them?” Winston asked.

Lara thought about it.  This was only the second year that Lara had been invited to the highly prestigious dinner, and she took it as a sign that she was finally being taken seriously and given the recognition that she deserved.

“Tell them I’m not feeling well.” Lara instructed.  Then she blushed and guiltily asked, “Is the pool cleaner still here?”

“He’s gone.  I gave him a generous tip to convince him of the need for discretion.” Winston said.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Winston.” Lara said, kissing him on the cheek.

Lara walked back to Zip’s computer lab to check on the status of her computer search.

“UNABLE TO FIND TRANSLATION,” the computer told her bleakly.

Lara went line by line through the search results.  The computer program had come up with several partial matches: cuneiform symbols that were similar, but not precisely the same.  Had it been any other ancient language, her library of research would have yielded results, but cuneiform was a very esoteric branch of study.  It was the world’s oldest written language, and there was very little known about it.  The foremost expert in the field was Professor Hubert Wormstrome, from Oxford University.  The man was incredibly ancient and notoriously eccentric.  He hadn’t taught any classes at the University for over a decade, but no one had the heart to make him retire; instead, they left him alone in his basement office in the Archaeology department to do his research.

If anyone could help her decipher the writing on the Idol, it would be him.  The problem was she’d have to go and see him in person.  He didn’t have a phone and he was notorious for refusing to travel away from the University campus.  Could she trust herself in public, given her condition?  Could she trust herself alone in a room with Professor Wormstrome?  On the later question, Lara was actually pretty optimistic.  The Idol of Hathor seemed to only work through the lust of anyone that was attracted to her, and rumour had it that Professor Wormstrome had been completely impotent for almost two decades.

Her decision made, Lara walked upstairs and showered.  Then she dressed in her motorcycle gear: a pair of black skin-tight leather pants, a fitted black leather Brando riding jacket worn over a white singlet, and shin-high leather motorcycle boots.  Last to go on was her black motorcycle helmet with a fully tinted visor.  She placed the Idol of Hathor into a black messenger bag that she looped across her chest, and then walked downstairs to the garage.  After farewelling Winston, she started her black Yamaha TRX850 sports bike and rode out onto the highway.

The trip to Oxford University took her just over 25 minutes.  Lara made sure not to speed, terrified that if a policeman pulled her over, the Idol would force her to have sex with them.  The best case scenario would be that she would just fuck them; the worst case scenario would be that they would arrest her and someone would film it.  It was late afternoon when she finally arrived at the University.  She parked right outside the Archaeology building, but walked around to the back entrance to avoid any other people.  Professor Wormstrome’s office was located by itself in the basement, and she found him inside, stooped over a stack of books and papers.

“Professor Wormstrome?” Lara asked.

Professor Wormstrome was a thin, stooped man, aged in his eighties.  The top and back of his head were entirely bald, and what little hair remained at the sides had turned completely grey.  He was wearing a pair of dark grey suit pants, a white shirt and a brown tie, and his suit jacket was hanging from the back of his chair.

“This area is off limits to students!” Professor Wormstrome said testily.

“I’m not a student.  My name is Lady Lara Croft.” Lara said.

“Lara Croft, the tomb raider: I’ve heard of you; a thrill seeking treasure hunter masquerading as an archaeologist!” Professor Wormstrome spat.

Lara gritted her teeth in frustration.  She’d been coming up against this sort of chauvinistic, wilfully ignorant discrimination for years.  On the bright side, she wasn’t feeling at all horny or attracted to the ancient professor, so the rumours about his impotence must be true.

“Professor, I need your help.” Lara said.

“I’m very busy, young lady!” He said, waving his hand dismissively.

Lara reached into her messenger bag and pulled out the Idol of Hathor.  The 86 year old Archaeology Professor’s eyes lit up with excitement.

“Where did you get it?” Professor Wormstrome asked, his voice trembling.

“I found it in the hands of some Nubian tribesmen in northern Sudan.  The markings on the sides are clearly Egyptian, but there’s some form of cuneiform writing on the bottom that I haven’t been able to translate.” Lara said.

Professor Wormstrome hastily cleared a space on his cluttered desk, knocking several sheafs of paper onto the floor.

“Let me see.” He said excitedly, reverently taking the Idol from Lara’s hands.

He picked up a large magnifying glass and examined the markings on the base of the Idol, before rummaging through his desk drawers until he found the notebook he was looking for.  He held the Idol of Hathor above his head while reading aloud from his notebook in a strange language that Lara had never heard before.  The hieroglyphs on the side of the Idol began to glow a bright golden colour, and Lara got a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“What are you doing?” Lara asked.

The Professor ignored her question and completed the incantation.  When he was finished, he smiled at her lasciviously.

“Tell me, Lady Croft, have you been feeling uncharacteristically amorous since coming into contact with the Idol?” Professor Wormstrome asked smiling.

Lara suddenly felt a tingling in her stomach and a warm wetness between her legs.  Oh crap, Lara thought, as she stared down at the bulge protruding from the front of Professor Wormstrome’s suit pants.

“I’ve been searching for the Idol of Hathor for over 20 years.  Go and lock the door.” Professor Wormstrome said.

Lara’s body instantly obeyed him, and she found herself locking the door to Professor Wormstrome’s office.  Professor Wormstrome stepped out from behind his desk and started unbuttoning his shirt.  Lara found herself unable to move, and she reasoned that Professor Wormstrome must be using the Idol to control her somehow.

“Why are you doing this?  You’re a respected archaeologist!  You knew my father!” Lara said, trying to reason with the ancient Professor.

Professor Wormstrome removed his shirt and tie and placed them on his desk.  His upper body was covered in liver spots and his bones were visible through his parchment-thin skin.  He reminded Lara of a skeleton wearing a wrinkled suit of flesh.

“Your father used to mock me.  He called my crazy old Professor Wormstrome.  He always thought he was better than me because he came from money and had a fancy title.  I honestly don’t know which I’ll enjoy more: taking his money and title, or fucking his precious daughter.” Professor Wormstrome said.

“You won’t get away with this!  I’ll tell everyone what you’ve done!” Lara protested.

Professor Wormstrome smiled at her malevolently.

“Repeat after me: I, Lara Croft, do take Professor Wormstrome to be my lawfully wedded husband; to love, honour and obey until death do we part.” Professor Wormstrome said, placing special emphasis on the word obey.

Lara’s mouth started moving of its own accord.  She repeated the words he had just spoken, powerless to stop herself.

Professor Wormstrome unbuckled his belt and removed his suit trousers.

“Let’s try another one. Now say: I, Lara Croft, do formally transfer ownership of all my property and bank accounts to my new husband, Count Wormstrome, to manage as he sees fit.” Professor Wormstrome said.

Lara helplessly repeated the words.

“You see, you stupid girl?  With the Idol of Hathor, I can command you to say or do anything I want!  Those primitive Nubians had no idea of the full power of the Idol.  Only a man of my towering intellect can possibly use the Idol to its full potential.” Professor Wormstrome gloated.

He waited for Lara to respond, but then remembered that he hadn’t given her permission to speak.

“You can speak normally again.  Start undressing – make it a sexy striptease.” Professor Wormstrome said.

Professor Wormstrome removed his off-white underpants and sat down on a chair in front of his desk.  Lara’s eyes were drawn to his bulging 8 inch long erection.  Had he always been that hung, or had the Idol of Hathor enhanced his penis, Lara wondered?  Against her will, Lara removed her leather messenger bag from her shoulder and placed it on the ground.  Then she started to dance.

Lara bent forward and thrust out her backside.  Then she reached down and ran her hands sensually up her long legs, over her flat stomach and across her breasts.  After squeezing her breasts, she slowly unzipped her leather motorcycle jacket and stood upright, throwing the jacket off her shoulders and letting it fall at her feet.  Lara turned around and spread her legs apart, giving the Professor a perfect view of her sexy, leather clad ass.  Lara’s hips gyrated provocatively from side to side, while she reached down and untied the laces of her boots.  The kicked them off one after the other, and then resumed her degrading dance.

“I’m going to kill you.” Lara said determinedly, as she unbuttoned the fly of her skin-tight leather pants and started rolling them down her thighs.  “Someday, somehow, I’ll get out of this, and then I’ll kill you.”

Professor Wormstrome smiled with amusement.  “You really shouldn’t threaten me, Lara.  I could make your life very unpleasant.” Professor Wormstrome said.

“More unpleasant than being married to a monster like you?  I doubt it!” Lara said bitterly, as she tossed her pants onto the floor.

“On second thought, stop talking.  A woman should only speak when she is spoken to.” Professor Wormstrome said.

Lara was immediately silenced by his command.  She continued to sway and dance, as she pulled her white cotton singlet up over her head.  She was now clad in just her bra and panties.  Lara reached back an unclipped her bra, revealing her gorgeous D-cup breasts.  Last to go were her panties, which she pulled off her hips and let fall to the ground at her feet.  Lara cupped her breasts and strutted towards the seated Professor, sexily crisscrossing her legs to exaggerate the sway of her hips.   She wrapped her arms around the professor’s neck and straddled his lap.  Professor Wormstrome leaned forward and motorboated his mouth between Lara’s breasts, causing her to grimace in revulsion.  She made a disgusted face as she felt the Professor’s warm saliva dribble down her chest.

“I’m not as young as I used to be, so you’ll have to do most of the work.  Ride my cock until I cum.” Professor Wormstrome commanded.

Lara reached down between her legs and placed the head of Professor Wormstrome’s cock against the entrance to her pussy.  Then she squatted downwards and impaled herself on his hard cock.  Lara groaned involuntarily, the Idol of Hathor causing her to vicariously feel the Professor’s pleasure at fucking her.  The Professor wrapped his withered arms around her back and started messily licking Lara’s breasts and sucking on her nipples.  All the while, Lara rhythmically lifted her pussy up and down on Professor Wormstrome’s cock, taking him balls deep with each thrust.  Lara moaned loudly, as Professor Wormstrome approached orgasm.  He didn’t last long, and a minute later both of them cried out in unison.  Lara arched her back and orgasmed powerfully.  The Professor shot his cum deep inside Lara’s pussy, and she kept grinding her hips up and down on his cock until it was completely drained of cum.

“Stand up.” Professor Wormstrome ordered breathlessly.

Lara stood up, and was shocked to see that Professor Wormstrome’s cock was still hard.  It had to be the Idol, she thought.  There was no other possible explanation.  Professor Wormstrome looked up at her and smiled cruelly.

“I’ve always wanted to try anal sex.  Turn around and spread your ass cheeks.” Professor Wormstrome said.

Lara turned around and bent over, while simultaneously reached behind her and grabbing her round ass cheeks.  Lara pulled her sexy buttocks apart, exposing her tight brown sphincter for his inspection.

“Very nice.” Professor Wormstrome commented.

Lara shivered with disgust, as he ran his hand over her asshole.

“Well?  Get it ready for your new master!” He commanded.

Lara reached up and dribbled saliva into the palm of her hand, before reaching around behind her and massaging it into her asshole.  She spat more slippery saliva onto her fingers and then inserted them into her sphincter, lubricating it for the sex to come.

“Ride my cock with your ass!” Professor Wormstrome commanded.

Lara leaned back and felt the Professor’s cock pressing against her asshole.  She groaned a moment later, simultaneously feeling the pain from her sphincter being stretched open, and the pleasure that Professor Wormstrome felt as he penetrated her asshole.  Lara lowered herself down on top of him, sliding all the way down his cock until her buttocks were resting on his skinny thighs.  Unable to resist, Lara could only look on helplessly as her body continued its degrading task.

Lara placed her hands atop of Professor Wormstrome’s knees and leaned forward, while spreading her legs wide apart.  She lifted her ass off the Professor’s crotch, feeling her asshole slide half way up his thick cock.  Then she pushed her asshole back down again, swallowing his cock all the way to the base.  Lara moaned loudly, as the pleasure from her relentless ass fucking increased.  Beneath her, Professor Wormstrome’s breathing was becoming ragged, and his pale face was covered in sweat.  The Idol of Hathor had apparently increased the size of Professor Wormstrome’s cock, and his recovery time, but it had done nothing to enhance his sexual stamina.

Lara’s face was flushed, both from the vicarious pleasure of her ass being fucking, and her embarrassment at being forced to behave in such a wanton manner.  Soon, her moans of pleasure were reverberating loudly through the room, and Lara prayed that no-one else heard them and came to investigate.  When Professor Wormstrome finally ejaculated, waves of pleasure crashed through Lara’s body, in time with the powerful spurts of warm cum filling her ass.

“That’s enough for now.  You may clean my cock with your mouth.” Professor Wormstrome said breathlessly.

Lara grunted as she slid her ass off the Professor’s magically enhanced cock.  Lara’s tight asshole was gaping slightly open, and she blushed with shame as she felt a trickle of warm cum dribbling down her inner thigh.  Obediently, she dropped to her knees in front of the Professor.  Thanks to the Idol of Hathor, the Professor’s cock was still fully erect, and Lara dreaded to think of how many hours a day he would demand to fuck her.  Suddenly, the Idol forced Lara to lean forward and open her mouth.  A moment later, she tasted the musky aroma of her own asshole, as she licked her tongue up and down Professor Wormstrome’s cock.  She licked the sticky cum from the Professor’s cock, bathing it in her saliva until it was completely clean.

Professor Wormstrome chuckled, as he started to dress.  “You know, it’s very fortuitous that you came to me today.  Tonight’s Archaeology Dinner will be the perfect opportunity to publicly announce our engagement.  I give you permission to move and speak normally, but you are forbidden to tell anyone about the Idol of Hathor or our arrangement.  Go home and change into your sexiest dress.  I’ll meet you at the dinner.” Professor Wormstrome said.

Lara watched as the Professor dressed himself and then locked the Idol of Hathor away in the top drawer of his filing cabinet.  Lara put her riding gear back on and walked back out to her motorcycle.  When she arrived home, Winston met her at the front door.

“How did things go with Professor Wormstrome?” Winston asked.

Lara tried desperately to tell him what had occurred, but the Idol forced her to smile and say, “Everything went great!  Now I need to go and get ready for the Archaeology Dinner.”

Winston looked concerned.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, Milady, but perhaps it might be wiser to take things easy for a few days, just to make sure that you’re back to normal.” Winston said.

“I’ll be fine.” Lara smiled, and then walked upstairs to shower and change.

After showering, Lara applied makeup to her face, styled her long hair into a ponytail and then went to get dressed.  Professor Wormstrome had instructed her to put on her sexiest dress, and the Idol of Hathor compelled her to obey that command.  Lara’s body continued to move with a mind of its own, overriding her conscious thoughts.  She tried to put on a pair of regular black panties, but the Idol made her reach for a tiny black G-string that she only wore for very intimate occasions.  She tried to reach for a matching bra, but her arms wouldn’t obey her.  Instead, her legs propelled her to the area of her walk-in wardrobe that was reserved for her fancy evening and cocktail dresses.

Lara knew before she reached for it which dress the Idol would make her select.  She had been dreading this moment since she had been unable to put on a bra.  Lara’s hands picked up the hanger containing her little black cocktail dress.  The dress was made from expensive black silk that started just above Lara’s knees, and had hip-high slits on both sides, which showed off an indecent amount of her upper thighs.  The dress didn’t have cups as such, but instead draped down from the U-shaped halter around her neck, and plunged downwards into a deep V-shaped neckline that started halfway up her flat stomach.

The design of the dress precluded the wearing of a bra – a fact that anyone staring at the deep valley between her large breasts, or her partly exposed side boobs, would be immediately aware of.  The rear of the dress was entirely backless and started just above her gorgeous ass.  It was so low that the end of Lara’s long ponytail only just brushed against it.  The design of the dress deliberately drew the eyes down the sensual curves of Lara’s lower back, and to the slight cleft made by her firm bubble butt.  Lara completed the outfit with a pair of expensive black 5 inch high heels and a matching black leather handbag.

The outfit was sexy, bordering on slutty, and entirely unsuitable attire for a formal dinner like the one she was attending.  Lara walked downstairs to the garage and climbed into her silver Jaguar F-Type Coupe.  The 3 litre supercharged V6 engine roared to life with a loud exhaust burble, and Lara drove off back towards Oxford University.  Despite her efforts to slow down or deviate from her course, the Idol of Hathor forced her body to drive to the destination that Professor Wormstrome had ordered.  It was well after dark when she finally arrived.

Lara’s stomach was filled with butterflies, as she parked her expensive sports car and walked the short distance to the dinner.  The dinner was being held in a college dining hall, and like many of the older buildings on campus, it had originally started life as a church and later been converted.  That heritage was still clearly apparent from the high vaulted ceilings, large arched stain-glass windows and imposing stone architecture and gothic pillars.  The annual Oxford University Archaeology Dinner was a small affair, with only about 80 attendees each year.  Two thirds of those were University staff and their partners, and the rest were made up of academics from other universities, guest speakers and the occasional politician or celebrity like Lara.

Lara walked up the stairs towards the large double doors, where the other guests were entering.  Lara was acutely aware of the inappropriateness of her attire.  This was a formal dinner and the other women present were all wearing ankle-length evening gowns, while their husbands were all dressed in tuxedos or black formal suits.  Lara’s short cocktail dress definitely breached the dress etiquette for this function.  As Lara walked towards the entrance to the hall, her high heels clicked loudly on the concrete footpath, drawing more unwanted attention.

Lara walked up the stairs towards the open, arched doorway.  An older gentleman wearing a crisp black tuxedo was standing off to the side of the entrance, smoking a cigarette.  As Lara walked up the stairs, the action caused the high side slits of her cocktail dress to open and display her long sexy legs.  Lara felt her face blush as his eyes lingered on her naked thighs, before shifting down to her shapely round ass, as she walked past him.  The Idol of Hathor meant that she felt his desire and sexual excitement as if it were her own.  She was starting to feel incredibly horny.  She walked through the arched entryway, where more guests turned to look at her.  The women stared at her disapprovingly, while the men glanced at her with barely disguised lust.  Lara tried to ignore their stares and walked into the hall.

The seating had been arranged around two large, parallel tables, although most of the guests were talking in small groups around the entrance.  A voice spoke to her from the side.

“Lara, so good of you to come.” Dean Thatcher said, wearing a tailored black tuxedo.

Dean Thatcher was aged in his mid-fifties, 6’2” tall and very well-groomed.  His suits were always immaculately tailored, and his hair was fashionably styled and dyed so that no grey showed.  Lara had heard that he was an avid road cyclist, which helped him to stay in shape.  In anyone else, Lara would have said that he was aging very gracefully, but Dean Thatcher had been a notorious womanizer back in his prime, and his enormous ego refused to relinquish the notion that he was still God’s gift to women.  Dean Thatcher’s vanity was legendary, and he had been trying to get Lara into bed ever since they had first met.

“Dean Thatcher, it’s good to see you.” Lara said politely.

“Please, call me John.” Dean Thatcher said, his eyes darting from Lara’s beautiful face to her dress’s low neckline and prominently displayed cleavage.

Dean Thatcher smiled and moved forward, kissing Lara politely on the cheek.  He used the opportunity to stare down the front of Lara’s dress, before taking her arm and leading her deeper into the room.

“I’m so glad you came.  Winston called and told me you weren’t feeling well.” Dean Thatcher said, while surreptitiously glancing down at Lara’s naked side-boob.

Lara blushed heavily, feeling a distinct wetness growing between her legs.  The Dean walked her around and introduced her to several groups of academics.  Wherever she approached, all conversation died, as the men stared open mouthed at Lara’s sexy body.  As her excitement increased, Lara’s nipples became hard and were clearly visible poking out through the thin black silk of her dress.  This caused more of the guests to stare at her breasts, which in turn caused Lara to feel even hornier.

Still, Lara was grateful that unlike on previous occasions, her body wasn’t acting on its own.  Lara had feared that she might walk into the hall and immediately strip out of her clothing and start performing sex acts with the guests, right there in full view of everyone.  Her intelligent mind reasoned that Professor Wormstrome’s control of the Idol must be overriding those impulses.  As they passed a group of women, Lara blushed as she heard their whispered conversation turn to her.

“This is supposed to be a black tie event.” One of the women said.

“She’s dressed like cheap prostitute.” Another woman whispered, loudly enough for everyone nearby to hear.

Several of the guests giggled, and many more of them echoed the notion in their own whispered conversations.

“I love your dress, by the way.” Dean Thatcher said, staring down at Lara’s ass as she walked half a step in front of him.

Lara blushed, trying to think of an appropriate response, but not finding any.

“These events are always so formal and stuffy.  You’re like a breath of fresh air.” Dean Thatcher said, placing his hand on Lara’s naked lower back.

Lara knew that he was testing the waters, seeing how much he could get away with, but she didn’t want to make a scene, so she let his action pass without comment.  Dean Thatcher smiled triumphantly and walked Lara towards the largest group of women.  They were all whispering and laughing together, but stopped as soon as Lara and the Dean approached.  These were the wives of the Professors and Administrators, and they clearly didn’t like Lara very much.

Lara reasoned that many of them saw her as a rival to their husbands’ career aspirations, as her fame was growing and there were rumours that she’d soon be offered an Honorary Doctorate and a teaching position at the University.  In truth, most of them were simply threatened by her as a beautiful younger woman, and they worried that their husband’s affections might stray in her direction.  Their bitchy comments started almost immediately after they were introduced.

“Lady Croft, how do you manage to wear a bra under that dress?” Professor Tudor’s wife asked, knowing full well that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

“I… you can’t wear one with this style of dress.” Lara answered, reddening with embarrassment.

“Oh, I hadn’t noticed before.” Professor Moorcroft’s wife lied, leaning forward for a closer look.

The other women made a point of examining Lara’s prominent cleavage.

“Don’t you find it slightly embarrassing, having your nipples sticking out through your dress like that?” Professor Tudor’s wife asked.

“She probably likes it.  Why pay for a boob job if you’re not going to show them off?” Professor Turner’s wife giggled.

“I haven’t had a boob job!” Lara argued.

“Sure you haven’t!” Professor Turner’s wife laughed, nudging her arm.

“My daughter tried to wear a dress like that to go out clubbing last year.” Professor Moorcroft’s wife said.

“Tell me you didn’t let her!” Professor Tudor’s wife said.

“Of course not!  I told her she looked like a cheap stripper and made her go back upstairs to change!” Professor Moorcroft’s wife answered.

The women laughed and Lara blushed with shame.  Their implication was obvious: Lara was dressed like a cheap stripper.  Before she had a chance to reply, Professor Wormstrome arrived.  He actually cleaned up rather well, Lara had to admit.  He was dressed in an old but stylish black tuxedo, although he had clearly lost weight since buying it, and it hung off his bony frame as if it were a size too large for him.

“Lara, you’re looking particularly ravishing tonight.” Professor Wormstrome said, not bothering to introduce himself to the other women in the group.

None of them seemed surprised, as Professor Wormstrome had a reputation for being crotchety and ill mannered.

“Professor Wormstrome, I wasn’t aware that you and Lara knew each other.” Dean Thatcher said.

“Oh, we know each other very well.” Professor Wormstrome answered with a lecherous gin.

“Professor Wormstrome was a good friend of my father.” Lara lied, trying to change the subject.

“What’s this big announcement that you’ve been so cryptic about?” Dean Thatcher asked.

“Yes, do tell Professor Wormstrome.” Professor Tudor’s wife echoed.  She hoped that he would finally be announcing his retirement, so that her husband could inherit his offices and research budget.

“You’ll have to wait to find out with everyone else.” Professor Wormstrome answered gruffly, before turning to Lara.  “Lara, could I borrow you for a few minutes.”

“Certainly Professor.” Lara answered deferentially, which raised a few eyebrows among the women.

Professor Wormstrome walked Lara towards one of the offices located at the back of the hall, near the toilets.  As they walked, Professor Wormstrome’s right hand slid down onto Lara’s ass and gave it a squeeze.  All conversation in the room died, as everyone stared at the strange sight of the ancient Professor groping the beautiful young Countess on the ass, and her apparently doing nothing to stop him.

“Why is she letting him treat her like that?” Lara heard Professor Turner’s wife whisper.

“It’s crazy old Professor Wormstrome.  She’s probably just humouring him.” Professor Tudor’s wife answered.

“Dress like a slut and men will treat you like one.” Professor Moorcroft’s wife commented loudly.

Lara blushed with embarrassment, as she heard the other dinner guests laughing and making more derogatory comments at her expense.



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