Patreon LogoYour support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)

Lessons in History (raptrix & xavierrol)

You couldn't tell by looking at her, but she was proud and happy with what she had just accomplished: Dagmar Kammler, a 19-year-old history student, had been offered a position at Berlin's well-known "Institut für Sexualkunde." The slender, athletic young woman with the beautiful but stern and sometimes forbidding face had been recommended by her tutor. Now she sat at the desk she had been provided, in a room together with two other research assistants, and busied herself with preparations for a seminar lecture. She had been surprised herself when she easily got this job, even with the prospect of getting a PhD position here later. Apparently, the senior assistant who had hired her had even read her first real scientific paper, she had written about Jean d' Arc, trying to classify her historically, but also tracing her Inquisition trial from the files she had received from archives in France, and the charges, among others, that she had appeared in men's clothing, some kind of heresy in these old days.

The building was a field office in Berlin Dahlem, right next to the Fraunhofer Institute for Relativistic Temporistics and Quantum Mechanics, something she really had no idea about. A large machine hall was located directly between the buildings, but all that had not interested her much, she was a budding historian and not really friend with such "engineering stuff".She wasn't the type to make herself immediately acquainted with others, but she did give a smile back to the student who was working at a computer one desk over when he supplied her with coffee from the canteen without being asked. He informed her that he was in charge of the computers and digital infrastructure. "Really cool machines they have here, hard to believe with the little bit of statistical analysis and word processing that is done with them.... all top of the line!" He was wearing a black T-shirt with the words "Kiss me - I am an Engineer." Which she certainly wouldn't do.

She herself wore a white lab coat, a bit old-fashioned, but she had been told that this was customary at the Institute. At the third desk sat a young woman who seemed to be preoccupied with statistics and evaluations of the sexual behavior of modern times women, but somehow was not very talkative either. Dagmar learned from her that she had been hired in view of a large "field research" project that was about to begin. There would be a "start up meeting" of the "big bosses" in the next few days and then they would surely learn more later on. In the afternoon a window of her mail program popped up and Dagmar checked her mail again. She was surprised to receive an invitation for apparently this very meeting. "Tomorrow, on Thursday 02.06 2034, there will be a status meeting, which will also be attended by Dr. Xavier Rollins from Washington DC as a representative of our main collaborator and funder. Please join at 10 am the startup meeting room 3, building 107. Please be available the whole day for following events."

She had no idea why exactly she was invited, looked around the room cautiously. But the other two were engrossed in their work and apparently hadn't received an email. She was confident enough to just be happy to be involved, or at least to be the quiet listening fly on the wall. She had always excelled in her previous studies with top grades and didn't need to skimp on self-confidence. Maybe she was supposed to operate the coffee machine or to write a protocol. So she packed her things into her briefcase, and took the streetcar home to her small apartment, where she spent the evening with her beloved books around her, classical music and a glass of red wine, to finally finish her seminar paper, which she was supposed to give at the main seminar of the institute. Her topic: "The Malefiz House of Bamberg - Women's Fates in the Time of Witch Persecutions at the Beginning of the 17th Century".
 
Dr. Rollins had flown in the day before to give himself some time to recover from the jet lag and he spent some of it reviewing the file of the test subject they had found. The photo of her was pleasant enough but she looked quite serious in her picture. But she had the skills and the intelligence they needed for this assignment. The photo didn't do justice to her body either as it was simply her face. She had all the best features associated with a German female, blonde braided hair, clean facial features, an Aryan princess in the making. Her knowledge of history and European languages would make her just perfect for the operation. He was looking forward to working with her, especially if their experiments were as successful as they had been advertised. 'Dagmar' he said the name out loud, it was an unusual name from an American, it wasn't a name the traveled from the old world to the new.

Xavier was seated at the head of the long table in the meeting room, the position of power as it would be his word that decided if they would do a live test, and release the money that would come with it. Every person in the room, with the possible exception of Dagmar herself, was wanting to accommodate what the old man from the USA wanted. Much of the meeting was dry and uninformative to someone at Dagmar's level. Financial projections, milestones achieved, personnel in place, obscure formulas and theorems all projected on the large screen with various generic looking scientists and executives droning on for hours at a time.

As lunch time came around, they moved to a banquet room and Dagmar would find herself seated next to the distinguished older gentlement whom everyone else seemed to want to impress. "So you are Dagmar? I'm pleased to meet you." He told her in English, having been assured her English was functional and that they wouldn't need an interpreter. "So what do you think of all this?" He asked, though he found it hard to imagine that she could tell head from tails based on the presentation and what she would have known.

"I found your conclusions on Jean d' Arc fascinating, she was a complex woman was she not?" He asked, then continued to discuss various points of her thesis that showed he had done more than just skim the abstract of her paper. "As a historian, how valuable would it be to see her situation from her very own eyes. Do you think she truly heard the voice of God?" He asked and then listened sincerely to her response, not just humoring a pretty face. He resisted the temptation to overtly ogle her young body. But she was in a word, impressive, on many levels.

He talked casually with her through the meal. As the meal began to wind down he leaned close to her. "I will need to examine you before we can proceed, I hope that won't be a problem?"
 
Her answer came promptly, without her having to think long. "That shouldn't be a problem. But maybe you'll tell me a few words first about what part in the project I'm really meant for?" She was very aware of her body, had danced ballet at an almost professional level for years, and had learned to see her body as if from the outside and purely sacred. The afterthought, the query, had slipped out of her, perhaps sounding cheeky, but it also seemed like a valid question.

In fact, she had barely been able to put things together in the meeting, there was talk of "The Engine" and "The Experiment", apparently everyone knew what it was about except her, and of course she was too professional to show her uncertainty or even ask questions. But it had already become clear to her that there had to be a reason for her presence, and sometimes she noticed furtive glances that taxed her like an alien. After a short time she was distracted from the actual topic and indulged in her old hobby of classifying those present, getting a picture of their personalities. In front of her lay a pad for notes, which simply remained empty. She could not contribute anything.

And, of course, she had been watching Dr. Rollins, who didn't need to say much at all, but dominated the event. She almost felt a certain sympathy for him, perhaps, she thought briefly, because he too was a kind of alien in this colorful circus of scientists and bureaucrats. She liked his soft face, and his certain way of speaking. So she was almost not surprised at all when she "happened" to sit next to him at lunch. What surprised her, however, was that he really knew her paper. She couldn't make sense of it, suddenly suspecting that somewhere there was a file circulating about her that everyone knew except herself. Maybe with a big red stamp on the front, but she didn't know what it meant.

She was open, and he seemed genuinely interested. Had Jane d'Arc really heard the voice of God? That was a question she had asked herself again and again.That she had heard a voice, and was convinced of her mission, that was obvious. But was it more, a spiritual experience? And if so - how had it felt for her when she had to get the impression that HE had left her? Had Jane d'Arc also whispered something like "Why did you leave me" at the stake? A deep feeling of loneliness gripped her every time she thought this. She almost wished she would have a lot of time to stay in conversation with Dr. Wellner. She didn't ask, but almost wished to experience him as an audience member in her seminar lecture - and in the following discussion. She did not give him an answer; it seemed as if that was not desired at all. His question was rather an invitation. But for what exactly?

At first it did not occur to her that the question about an examination could contain something ambiguous, even molesting. But when it became clear to her shortly afterwards, she thought of the proverbial "casting coach" in show business. Her face and her whole attitude became a bit more closed. She would wait and see what happened.
 
Last edited:
Her consent came quickly, probably too quickly as she was likely caught up in the rush to make sure he had a favorable opinion of the program. Many jobs, including hers, rode on his agreeing to keep the program going. Not that there wouldn't be other options for such a bright and beautiful young woman, but she didn't yet appreciate the opportunity she was being given, or what it might cost her. "I'm glad to hear you are cooperative as you will be a crucial part of the project." He raised an eyebrow as she asked about her role. "Yes, it is time you learned more about your role. This whole meeting today was geared towards convincing me to go forward, and I of course already know the main purpose. So let me fill you in." The luncheon was about over, with small but delicious desserts being delivered to the table by the waiters.

"This entire project is focused around an opportunity, theoretically at least, to experience history first hand." He let his words sink in for a few moments. "You probably aren't that aware of the activities of your partners in this. The Fraunhofer Institute for Relativistic Temporistics and Quantum Mechanics has been doing the scientific heavy lifting, but we need someone who can appreciate the significance of events as they experience them. That and speak the languages with an appreciation for the context of when they were spoken. That's where you come in my dear." He gave her a satisfied look, his eyes lowering to appreciate all of her for a moment.

He could tell it was probably difficult for her to understand precisely what he was talking about just yet. "We think we can transport your consciousness, back in time to a specific person, so you can see the world through their eyes. We aren't yet sure just how much our historian will be able to remember or if they will have any control over the events of the day. Obviously those questions are extremely important as experiencing history is one thing, changing it is another thing entirely." As they finished their dessert he stood and offered her his arm. "Why don't you come with me for a small tour before your pre-immersion examination. We are calling these trips to the past 'immersions' by the way as you will be immersed in history like no one has ever been before."

They walked through the rather impressive looking machinery of the Institute and were greeted by a friendly looking Yellow Labrador dog who padded up to them. Bending to pet the friendly canine, Xavier made an introduction. "This is Lucy, she has made several immersions, and as you can see seems completely healthy." He stood and continued the tour and his talk. "It takes an extraordinary amount of energy, precisely focused to initiate the immersion process." He said as they looked at the mysterious looking equipment. "We are convinced it is safe, we just don't know if it actually works. Sadly Lucy is not able to tell us much about what she experienced in the past. Which brings us to you."

Their tour left the larger equipment and ended in somewhat plain room with a table that looked like it might be for a medical experiment. There were restraining straps distributed that would immobilized someone almost completely. It was rather intimidating looking. There was a large mirror which she would be shown was a control room full of computers and the mirror was one-way, they could see into the room with the table. "For your body, it will be much like a very vivid dream. But dreams can be intense, and the stress may be great, so I need to examine you to convince myself you are up to the ordeal." This was true, but it was not the entire story. He also needed to see just how compliant she was, and how that compliance would change with each experience. "If you are ready?" He took her to a small exam room and on the exam table was a folded hospital gown, the kind that barely covered one's body and tied in the back. "If you would remove your clothes, and put this on, we can begin." He stated but made no motion to leave, as if he fully intended to watch her undress.
 
For a moment she stood and looked him in the eye, not demanding, but showing strength. In her mind, the pieces of the puzzle had begun to fit together. She would not sell herself. But then again, he had captured her, simply by saying, "As a historian, how valuable would it be to see her situation from her very own eyes." It was burned into her. It was an opportunity she would not miss. Even if she was determined not to go all out for it. Perhaps she would not be allowed to publish to this experiment that was going on so secretly despite its scope. But she would be able to present, as a historian, a perhaps new and, at least for herself, well-founded statement in many matters of dispute.

Slowly, purely matter-of-factly, she took off her lab coat, hung it on the hook on the wall, and began to undress before his eyes. Not provocatively, not shamefully, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for the project and in this situation. Neatly folded, her pants, blouse. Shoes were placed in front of a waiting stool. She didn't hesitate for a second when it came to take off her white, plain underwear as well. At the end, white sport socks were undressed. Her small, firm breasts peeked out, her pubic shaved, her body slender yet strong. She was the ice princess she had always been ridiculed as. She put on the examination gown.

Deep inside she was aroused, the situation, the cool air on her bare skin. And, what she would never have admitted to herself, the presence of this man. But it was not apparent to her. She kept the distance. A small smile was on her face.

"Here we go."
 
Last edited:
Xavier had expected her to tell him to step outside, but he didn't offer to do so much as turn his back. He would like to think it was part of the test, which in a way it was, but mostly he wanted to see her body. She was like a work of art by one of the old masters, as if they had broken the mold when she was formed and such a work of art could never be reproduced. He watched even as he talked, her body (NSFW) was nothing short of glorious. It took every ounce of his self control to be able to keep talking without expressing how in awe he was of her youthful beauty. "The engineers next door have the brute force end of it worked out, the tricky part is knowing a certain person at a certain point in time. We can't simply point your consciousness to the past and hope for the best."

He paused ever so slightly as her blouse and pants were removed and he could openly stare at her as she placed her shoes by the stool. He continued then as she plain white underwear came off. His voice may have wavered a little as her breasts were freed from the bra cups. Despite his age, he was stirring, his suit pants tenting with arousal as he continued explaining her role in the project. "So we must do our research, find the right person and the right time, then send you to meet them so to speak. Only then will we know what we really have." He didn't explain to her the many things that were still unknown. For instance would she have any sense of control, and if so was there a danger of her changing the past. For that reason her first immersion would be with a nobody, historically speaking at least. Sure they might want to have her experience history from Cleopatra's or Marie Antoinette's perspective, but not if she could change history, as that would have potentially catastrophic consequences.

"Indeed." He replied as she stood before him in only the flimsy gown. "Now hop up on the table." He told her, offering his hand as a small assist though she hardly needed such help. "And lay back now." He said, his voice soft but firm, as if he were quite accustomed to getting what he wanted without raising his voice. "The straps are unnecessary for my exam, but we shall use them to make sure you are not claustrophobic as they will be needed for the immersion." He told her as his hands began to drape the black cloth restraints over her torso. Drawing them taut and sliding several fingers between the black cloth of each strap and her body to make sure each was secure but not likely to harm her. "How is that?"
 
How it was... a shiver ran through her when he put the straps over her and tightened them. She did not allow herself to have the thoughts that forced themselves upon her. He was dominant in his actions, but of a certain matter-of-factness, she didn't feel it was intrusive. Instinctively she moved her body, tensing her muscles and exploring how far she could move. Which brought her body into particularly delightful poses. In fact, the straps were tight and strict, although he had not tightened them very much. The feeling of being limited in her movements excited her. Now she could have found the reasons why this had to be so, so that she would not move or even hurt herself while her consciousness was in other worlds, because she might sweat and should not soil her clothes, while the chemise was easily washable. But for her it was more, it had a definite sexual component, and it was a game of power and control.

She only now really noticed that the window to the control room was only transparent on one side, from her side like a mirror, and that she would not be able to know who was sitting behind it watching her. She closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the situation of her sensations., As she finished her efforts to explore the strength of the restraints, a slight moan came from her lips in an uncontrolled moment. Then she was businesslike again, back in her role as the tough scientist preparing for an experiment.

In the background, so many questions were crowding her mind. For example, what exactly was to be researched and for what purpose. It had occurred to her that the experiments were certainly not just to advance the historical sciences. Other, darker purposes suggested themselves. Thoughts that came in from dark, hidden corner of her brain and she immediately pushed it back to where it came from. Actually, she didn't want to know. But - to be part of that experiment, to have this incredible experience. All wanted and to give satisfaction to herself privately. And then later on... to profit from it as a historian, of course. To be the opener for her former academic career.

"When can we start? I am... thoroughly curious."
 
Xavier was most pleased with the Institut für Sexualkunde's selection of Ms. Kammler as their test subject. She was as bright as she was beautiful. While he knew that much of her compliance was in response to his authoritative position, but still the way she obeyed, as if deep down she wished to be submissive to a powerful male. He doubted if he had met her on the street as a stranger, she would be so responsive, but in the end that didn't matter. He wasn't a stranger on the street and he controlled whether she would have the opportunity of a lifetime or not. "Take a deep breath and hold it." He told her just before he tightened the strap across her chest, just below her wonderfully perky tits. He admired the way her hard nipples poked through the thin cloth and the way the strap drew the gown taut over the softer tit flesh. "Ok you can breath out now." He instructed after enjoying the sight for a few heartbeats. She would need to be able to breath freely as he expected some of her encounters might prove stressful. Though eventually he might control even her breathing, if the experiment proved as successful as he hoped.

He saw her glance at the mirrored glass, wondering if she recalled from her tour that others could see her even if she couldn't see them. "Don't worry, you will be carefully monitored at all times. You don't mind being watched do you?" He asked with a hint of mischief and innuendo in his voice. He rested a hand on her flat stomach as he watched her quietly, she looked as if she were testing the restraints, and his cock stirred as he watched her futile efforts. "I can assure you that you are quite secure here." He said as his other hand brushed some wisps of hair from her pretty face. He smiled down at her, his grandfatherly features seeming benevolent but his eyes suggested a certain hunger.

"Anxious are you?" He said with a hint of laughter and amusement. "I haven't even begun my examination, I'm not yet certain you are the right historian for the job." He knew that she was hooked, that she wanted it desperately now that she was so close. But he wasn't opposed to dangling the bait in front of this little fish, to see just how bad she wanted it. The hand on her stomach slid down towards her hip, then her thigh, caressing her but not overtly sexual just yet.

"Are you a virgin?" He asked casually, as if the question were no more personal than if she were right nor left handed. He opened a drawer and pulled out a light and a tongue depressor. "Open your mouth, and stick out your tongue." He demanded in a curt tone. "Further" he added before sticking the blade of the tongue depressed down towards the base of her tongue and shined the light down her throat. He then looked in each ear, routine medical exam type things before setting the light and depressor down. His warm hands then felt her neck and throat as if looking for any abnormalities, reasons to reject her. He was then squeezing her shoulders for a moment before his hands openly went to her breasts. He could feel the hard points of her nipples pressed into his palms. "Any health problems recently?" His eyes fixed on hers as his hands squeezed her mounds, caressing them before releasing them and working further down.
 
Dagmar closed her eyes for a moment. The situation began to be more than stimulating for her, he set out to provoke her further and further. He drove her against an invisible boundary in her consciousness. Did he know what he was doing? What it was all about? Or was it really and simply "only" a test, a more psychological than physical examination? Her reaction to stress? Her ability to simply say no? Strapped down, naked under the hospital gown, her mouth held open by him with this instrument, yet another constraint to which she was subjected.

"Anxious?" No, she was not afraid. But she was being driven more and more toward something buried deep inside her. That had been hidden under the shell of her existence as an ice princess for so many years.

"I can assure you that you are quite secure here." She began to tremble. Did he notice? Or was it only in her thoughts? Where did this feeling arose that it had to happen right away? Suddenly she had a flashback. Her legs weren't spread like they were then, and it wasn't hands holding her, but those straps, but his voice.... A slightly different voice. Just as sensitive, and yet hard. "It's going to hurt a little, you beautiful.... Ice Princess.... I will fuck your brains out." It was Xaviar's hands roaming down her body. It was his voice asking questions. She didn't want to dive into that memory. She had to stay here and now. She didn't need a time machine to be back on this table, surrounded by the gang of guys, and....

"Are you a virgin?" Strangely, that question brought her back. She knew the answer, of course. But it took her a while to bring herself to tell the truth. The thought, that he might investigate that, too. If she didn't answer. It hit her like a blow. She ignored the next question, which was so simple. No health problems. She had never talked about it with anyone. Not even with her trainer, who had immediately noticed the change in her mindset, and who had then organized everything for her without asking further. It was buried so deep inside her. Why now here and to this man this "confession"? He had penetrated so deeply into her, into her personality, in such a short time. Was it all over now? She opened her eyes and managed to look him in the eye again. If he would deny her access to the program now, it would be ok. Suddenly she didn't care. He had established some kind of confidentiality. He was not a threat.

"I'm not a virgin. I was raped. I had an abortion."

Her mouth was dry, and that was all she could say, even if she had wanted to. Again, a quiet tremor ran through her body.
 
She was more calm than he expected, at least on the outside. She was not the first young woman he had examined in this way, but her reaction was different. He began to wonder if she was still with him or if she had shut the awkward exam and feelings of helplessness out of her mind. It would have been normal to be frightened, to resist even, but aside from a small hint of a tremble, she seemed quite calm. Nor did it seem that she enjoyed it in any particular way, there were of course women that enjoyed being helpless, bound and even whipped as if the pain were pleasure. But no that wasn't it either, though there were signs of arousal.

Finally he decided she was somewhere else, and that wouldn't do, not at all. She wasn't answering his questions, she wasn't refusing to answer them, it was like she wasn't really there. He shook her shoulders gently but still no proper response from her. He then slapped her face, not brutally but enough to get her attention. It was then that she answered one of his questions, the one that explained most everything else. He had not repeated his questions so she must have heard them all but only responded to the one that mattered, to both of them. It was almost like a confession, her lose of virginity hadn't been her idea and she had snuffed the life inside of her.

He had a moment of guilt but fought it back. Wondering for a moment if he should tell her the truth, that she would be raped again. Perhaps not her body, but she would experience it just as vividly. But it wouldn't end there, there would be more, worse in many ways. "Did they catch the man that raped you?" He asked, his voice firm, expecting an answer but also casual as if he had asked how she did in a competition as a child. "How far along were you when you had the abortion?" His phrasing was clinical, detached from the emotional baggage that would almost certainly come with the answer. "Are you still fertile?" He asked, as she gently pulled up the gown to expose her young sex to his view.
 
It was a way out for her, which she had taken so often, to escape into her own world, to reinterpret everything around her or not let it get to her at all. Again. But it was different. Strapped to the table, open, vulnerable, in the hands of this man who spoke to her in such a soft yet determined voice, the worlds mixed and she could finally allow the truth inside her. She could speak. It was like an interrogation for her, but one in which the delinquent - she herself - considered it like a redemption to finally be able to speak. It had remained hidden inside her for years. It was a layer under her existence as an ice princess, but also under her own terrible and yet so exciting fantasies. "I was seventeen. He couldn't be caught, my coach was not there, but some other men I knew very well. I could have betrayed him, but I feared no one would believe me. And... I didn't want to betray him, because somehow - I was in love. Still. I realized it early, but didn't say it until it was already too sparse for legal intervention. I was in the fourth month, I "traveled" with him to the Netherlands, officially for training. There the surgery was performed. Nobody, not even my parents knew".

She faltered. Again she trembled, again almost as if symbolically she began to tug lightly at the shackles. "They said that I can still have children, and I also got my period back after some time."

Her naked grotto lay before him, her body cold sweaty, her labia glistening wetly. Another flashback. She was inwardly ready to be taken again, here, now, tied to this table, without being asked. She took several attempts, it was awful. She wanted to be silent again. But when he didn't answer right away, it came out of her, against her will. "I want it. I would do anything for it. Really anything."
 
He watched her carefully, her face and expression, her body and the signs of her sexual arousal. "You know why you were raped, don't you?" He said it, sounding as if he were accusing her of being at fault for her own rape. "You loved him, or you loved being raped?" His tone grew more stern as he reached down and touched her, placing the palm of his hand on her pubic mound, his fingers extending towards her navel above her now empty womb. His palm put pressure, so near but not quite touching her clitoris, he would feel her squirm beneath him. "You have no regrets?" He asked as she told him what she wanted, he smiled at her as if he knew all along and was just waiting for her to confess it to him.

"What you want doesn't matter, you understand that don't you?" He let his fingers drum softly along the flesh of her abdomen, each finger raising and lowering in order to tap lightly on her firm belly. He lightly pressed more firmly, the meat of his palm pressing slightly against her clit. "You may pleasure yourself as you are able." He told her, encouraging her to rock her hips for some small relief of the ache between her thighs.

The sight of her strong young body exposed and so completely helpless was making him hard. He pressed his erection against her leg just above her knee so she would appreciate the affect she was having upon the old man. He watched as she strained against the straps, watching her muscles and tendons flex and relax as she tested each restraint as it held her fast. "Are you too proud to beg?" He asked the ice princess who was thawing rather rapidly at his touch and her predicament.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top Bottom