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The First Women in the Moon (Simon Grail)


The First Women in the Moon by Simon Grail

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What if, when Bedford and Cavor had set off for the Moon, they had taken a pair of naked slave women with them for comfort and utility, because they were perfectly normal travel accessories for gentlemen in 1901? And what if, when they reached the Moon, the women fell into the clutches of even more masterful and sadistic beings, who had shocking plans for them? Nancy and Hazel unwilling embark upon an amazing adventure and on the way endure a relentless series of humiliations and degradations. They are trained as ponygirls, used to peddle dynamos while having their clits teased, put in strange and painful alien machines, suffer penetrations by every orifice, endure having their bodies intimately modified and are compelled to put on a sex show for the Grand Lunar. And then they face a final terrible dilemma – to submit to selenite mastery or to return to their human masters. The fate of the world might also hang in the balance. Surely there is a better way to live, if only they can find it.

A classic Science Fiction fantasy is reimagined with domination, weird sex, and female slavery

Product type: EBook    Published by: Fiction4All    Published: 8 / 2018

No. words: 37116

Style: SciFi BDSM/Bondage, Male Dom - M/F

Available Formats: MobiPocket (MOBI)  EPUB  PDF  MS Reader  This book has a format which can be downloaded to Kindle


Excerpt

Chapter 1
Mr Bedford and Mr Cavor Purchase a Pair of Slave Girls
As I sit down to write this narrative, it comes to me with a certain quality of astonishment that my participation in the amazing adventures of Mr Bedford and Mr Cavor was after all the outcome of the purest accident. It might have been any woman in my circumstances. I fell into these things at a time when I was at my lowest ebb and thought nothing worse could possibly happen to me. Indeed, I was a very different person then and it almost seems as if these events happened to somebody else who chanced to share my name. And so, it is in just such a detached manner that I have determined I will relate this remarkable tale. When or if anybody else shall ever read these words I cannot say, but I feel compelled to set down an accurate record of these events while they are still fresh in my mind.
How Mr Bedford and Mr Cavor became first became involved with each other and conceived of their extraordinary project will be revealed in due course. For myself, the beginning was in the year 1901 and the place was the Folkestone Trade Hall in the county of Kent, where a sale of chattel slaves was in progress…
* * *
‘Lot number 27,’ the auctioneer announced. ‘A female by the name of Nancy, aged twenty- three, originally of good upbringing…’
Sick with fear and shame, Nancy Peckham was stood on the block. She was naked except for a broad leather collar, flimsy slippers and the boldly printed numbered tag hung about her neck, together with a handwritten card bearing her Christian name. Her wrists were strapped together behind her back. She had a compact build which might be described as curvaceous and lightly olive-tinted skin. She had dark full brows, deep brown eyes and a firm, slightly tip-tilted nose. There was a buxom quality about her bosom and her breasts were tipped by brown nipples. She had womanly hips, fleshy buttocks and sturdy thighs. The rich growth of pubic hair between her thighs was as dark and glossy as that on her head.
And all these intimacies that had so recently been private, were now being taken in by so many strange eyes. Nancy screwed up her own eyes and swayed, thinking she was about to faint. A sales assistant standing behind the block smacked her buttocks and propped her up until she steadied herself again.
‘I shall start the bidding at ten guineas…’ The auctioneer said.
Numbered cards began to be held up in the hall by interested bidders.
Fifteen guineas, twenty… twenty-five…
How much was she worth as a piece of female flesh? She had been reduced to a piece of livestock, there to be bid for as a farmer might in the ring. The shame of it was overwhelming and yet a streak of pride caused her to hope she would not be sold cheaply. After all, it was all the worth she had left.
‘Sold!’ And the gavel banged.
Lost in the depths of her despair, Nancy had not heard the winning bid, nor seen who had bought her.
* * *
After the auction was concluded, those successful bidders waited at the sales office to collect their purchases. Nancy was taken out of the slave pen along with another woman to be handed over to her new owner.
The other girl had the name card “Hazel” hung about her neck. She was of a lean build, with blonde hair and an innocent face with somewhat pouting lips. She had high-set, neat breasts tipped with small pink nipples. Her hips were slim, her pale buttocks were well rounded, and she had a golden pubic pelt. She also looked terrified and her face was tear-streaked.
Nancy found not one but two men waiting for them, who made an oddly matched pair. One was perhaps twenty-five years old and of a solid build with dark hair and a moustache and bright eyes. He had about him an air of vigorous enthusiasm. The other was a little older and shorter with a rather round body and thin legs. He had a chubby rubicund face and radiated an air of absent-minded amiability.
The women were handed over to them, and their auction house collars were exchanged for the collars and leashes the men had brought with them. Nancy shuddered as these restraints were exchanged. Her instinct was to shrink back from them and somehow seek her freedom, but she knew that was no longer a choice. By the law of the land, she and Hazel now belonged to these men, and any attempt to escape would lead them to being hunted down and punished.
Once they were both leashed, the young man pushed rubber ring gags into their mouths. The rings projecting side spokes with smaller rings on their ends to which the gag straps were tied. These were wedged between their teeth, stretching their lips back and holding their mouths open.
‘Keep them muzzled and don’t let them chatter, or else they’ll try to soften your heart with sad stories about how much they have suffered,’ he advised his companion. ‘There’s only one use for slave girls’ mouths that you should be interested in, and we’ll soon teach them what that is.’
How lightly he had dismissed her past life, Nancy thought wretchedly. Yet in a selfish way he was right. It was no concern of his how she and Hazel came to be in this situation, as long as they gave him the service he required. Perhaps it would be as well for them to forget their past. They could never go back to how things were.
They were led out of the trade door of the hall onto a backstreet. Hazel gave a moan of shame as she was suddenly exposed in the open to the gaze of passers-by, while Nancy felt her cheeks burning. This was inhuman! But this was her life now.
They were led along to a taxi rank where the men engaged a closed four-seater carriage.
‘White Chimneys, Marsh Lane, Lympne,’ she heard the older man tell the driver.
The women were dragged inside and sat on the seats facing the men, instinctively huddling together. The carriage pulled away and began winding through the streets of Folkestone until they struck the coast road leading towards Hythe.
The younger man grinned appreciatively at his two new purchases, looking them up and down closely. Nancy saw a bulge forming in the front of his trousers. Hazel whimpered and squeezed her thighs together. The man leaned forward and slapped her knees.
‘You don’t hide anything from us,’ he warned her.
Miserably she spread her thighs, exposing the fluffy delta of her pubic curls.
‘You too,’ he told Nancy.
Feeling sick she opened her thighs to them as well.
The bulge in the front of his trousers grew larger.
The older man was looking doubtful. ‘This is another expense, Bedford. Are you sure this was wise?’
‘They are a sound investment, Cavor. We’ll need travelling companions and helpers who can also provide as with all the comforts of home. Like this…’
He reached forward and took hold of Nancy by her hair and pulled her down onto her knees in the well between the seats. With his other hand, he unbuttoned his flies and freed his straining direction. He pushed her face down into his groin so that his penis slid up between her parted lips.
Even though she had never performed such an intimate act before, Nancy knew what was expected of her. Miserably she pushed her tongue through the rubber ring holding her mouth wide and lapped it about the shaft of his penis. The raw male scent of it filled her nostrils while its texture was so strange: hard and soft at the same time. He began to bob her head up and down, impaling her mouth upon his manhood while she tried not to choke as his shaft slid down her throat.
‘You see,’ he said to Cavor. ‘Now you try yours out…’
Cavor looked uncertain from moment and then he pulled Hazel down onto her knees in front of him and freed his own flies. She coughed and choked as he penetrated her throat and fresh tears ran down her cheeks, but with his hand holding a fistful of her golden hair, she had no choice but to pleasure him.
And so, as the carriage made its way along the coast road and then turned inland towards the village of Lympne, Nancy and Hazel gave lip service to their new masters. When the men’s climaxes came, they tried not to choke as hot seed was squirted down their throats, which they swallowed dutifully.
By the time the taxi-carriage pulled up outside the gates of a large country house, even Cavor was looking happily relaxed.
‘I must admit that was quite pleasant,’ he said.
‘I told you so,’ Bedford replied. ‘It perfectly normal and healthy. One’s passions must not be bottled up.’
Suddenly Cavor’s reverie melted into a look of panic and hastily he and consulted his pocket watch. ‘Oh my! We’ve been away for some time. I hope Gibbs has kept the furnace well stoked.’
‘It’s only been a few hours, Cavor,’ Bedford reassured him. ‘You can afford to take some time off…’
They disembarked, leading the women after them through the gates and into the gardens of the house. It was slightly dilapidated, with four tall white chimneys that gave it its name, and it was situated on a low rise so that it could look out over the expanse of the Romney Marshes. But the oddness of the place soon became apparent. There was a small gasometer in the garden and carelessly scattered piles of nameless equipment gathering weeds, together with a large outdoor shed which looked newly made.
The interior of the house was even stranger.
All the carpets on the ground floor seemed to have been removed and it now accommodated furnaces, boilers, dynamos and benches of machine tools and chemical apparatus. The air was heavy with strange scents and the tang of steam and coal smoke.
All this was being tended, in a rather desultory fashion, by three workmen in aprons grimy with coal and grease. They turned to look at their employer with this new naked slave girl absentmindedly in tow as he made a hasty inspection of the boiler temperature and pressure valves. As Bedford followed in his wake, leading Nancy after him, smiles of curious approval appeared on the men’s grimy faces.
‘I see you made some purchases, Sir,’ one of them volunteered.
‘Are they part of the experiment, Sir?’ another asked.
What experiment, Nancy wondered, feeling a frisson of alarm?
‘There is no concern of yours, Spargus,’ Bedford said. ‘Now get back to your work, there’s a good fellow…’
‘Yes, Sir,’ the other glowered.
Bedford and Cavor led the women through to another room and shut the door. It was piled with more complicated apparatus arrayed about its workbenches, together with a drill press and lathe.
‘Your men are getting curious about what all this is leading up to, Cavor,’ Bedford said. ‘Seeing these women will puzzle them, though. Still, it’s just as well we’re nearly ready to go.’
‘Is it really wise to take them along, Bedford?’ Cavor pondered.
‘We agreed all this already,’ Bedford said. ‘They will be very useful.’
‘But what if they panic or misbehave?’
‘That’s why we’re going to teach them some discipline. I worked in the flesh trade for a while. It doesn’t take long to break a woman in. Neither of these are virgins so they have some experience. They’ll soon learn who their new masters are, and I guarantee you they won’t give as any trouble. Have you got the device ready?
In response, Cavor went over to an object in the corner covered by a dust sheet. He wheeled it into the centre of the room and then pull the sheet off. It was an old hand-cranked “Spank and Riddle” machine built for two women, to which an electric motor had been added.
Triangular iron side frames supported between them a rotating rod with leather flails fixed to it, that was positioned above a padded horizontal bending bar. Beneath and behind this, a pair of vertical rods, capped with large greased rubber dildo tips that bristled with curving prongs about their shafts, were connected to a gearing system that also drove the flail rod. This was in turn driven by a chain drive connected to the shaft of a crank handle on one side of the device, which had been replaced by a heavy electric motor. A thick electric flex ran across to a large switch box on one of the benches. Sets of cuffs were fitted to the base of the frame on either side.
‘Let’s get them in position…’ Bedford said briskly.
The women were bent over the padded bar and their legs were spread and secured to the cuffs on the base of the frame. Their wrists were unstrapped from behind their backs and their arms were stretched down the front of them and secured to more sets of cuffs. Now their bottoms were raised up so that the limp leather straps of the flail above them just brushed their bare cheeks. Bedford adjusted the ends of the plunger arms so that the tips of their dildos lodged in their vaginas.
Hazel twisted her head round to look at Nancy. Her eyes were filled with fear and desperate pleading that Nancy could do nothing to ease.
‘Go on, switch it on, Cavor.’ Bedford prompted.
Cavor threw the switch and the motor hummed into life. The flail rod began to spin, and its leather straps were flung outwards. At the same time the vertical shafts began to pump up and down, driving the rubber dildos into their vaginas.
Hazel and Nancy gasped as they were penetrated deeply, at the same time as their upturned buttocks began to receive a vicious lashing. Their buttock cheeks shivered and rippled even as their soft sex lips were parted by the thick pumping dildos and teased by their many radiating prongs, that dug into their furrows and taunted their most secret organs of pleasure. They yelped and dribbled through their wedged mouths and their eyes filled with tears.
Bedford and Cavor walked around them, observing their distress with evident approval.
‘Tell me that’s not a pleasant distraction from all your concerns,’ Bedford said.
‘I suppose it is quite amusing,’ Cavor conceded.
The machine was relentless. Pain and carnal pleasure grew within them. Neither could be avoided but one could be embraced. Even as their bottoms burned, their sexual organs were inflamed and began to drip with helpless excitement, while the nipples of their almost inverted jiggling breasts stood up hard.
‘You see, it’s working on them already,’ Bedford said. ‘It’s natural for them to respond like this. A few more sessions and they’ll be perfectly obedient. They’ll be as good as gold by the time we set off for the moon!’


Author Information

Simon Grail is an artist and author of many strong BDSM content A1 books, including the best sellers "Sex Slave Holiday","Hell School for Teachers" and "The Young Women of St Evals" and "The Bagatelle Club". Past works include:"The Purgatory Club" trilogy, the "Bondmaid" Saga sextet, the "Lesbian MILF Blackmail Gang", "Sisterhood of Submission", the "Dragon School" and "Castle of Slaves" novels, and several short stories including the ongoing "Breaking in..." and "Nightmare in..." series.

 

Publisher Information

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