David Selmeston Vibart is in his late forties, tall, good-looking, silver-haired,
extremely reclusive and lives in a fine early-Georgian house in no less than six acres of
scruffy, unkempt walled grounds some ninety miles from the fringes of London, England. He
has almost everything he wants or needs – and could have it all ten times over if he cared
– for David Selmeston Vibart, never ever ‘Dave’ please, has more money at his personal
disposal than most other very wealthy individuals could possibly require.
David Vibart is not a ‘captain of industry’ or an ‘investment banker’ or anything like
that – indeed he appears to have no business or profession of any kind and his interests
appear, again, to be confined to dry-as-dust academic subjects centred around the history
and development of Early Man. His money, a good part of which he inherited from his
father, as his father inherited it from his and his father from his, is almost all simply
deposited with his bankers – who of course are delighted to have it: if he took it away a
number of very senior heads might have to roll. The only things he demands of his bank are
a better than good interest rate – no problem – and absolute confidentiality…’absolutely
no problem Mr Vibart sir…’
Or only a one-off, slight and transient problem anyway: quite recently some of the
‘Vibart account’ figures were made available in a brief and limited way by a
computer-hacker who thought he’d discovered something: on the day he put them on the
Internet they were taken off the Internet by someone else within about twelve minutes and
the hacker and all his meagre property disappeared from his scruffy, rented
bed-sitting-room in a dingy suburb of Birmingham an hour after that. A neighbour, when
asked, just said that “some big blokes like toffs came an’ took ‘im an’ ‘is stuff away in
a posh car like…Looked like ‘ee didn’ want ter go like…” You might reasonably suspect
therefore that something is ‘bent’ or crooked about David’s wealth but you’d be quite
wrong and even suggesting that he is anything other than a quiet, harmless, upright
reclusive academic with legitimately inherited wealth would provoke a defamation-case
against you which you would, one, lose and, two, would result in you having to pay damages
running into seven figures. He just likes privacy – so when some of his bank-account
figures were leaked, his bank spent some of his money in un-leaking them and, for good
measure, dealing with the ‘leaker’ as well.
Because David’s money is perfectly legitimate – there is no need to try to enhance your
wealth by even slightly dubious means when its original source was a deposit of
ninety-thousand gold Napoleons made to a small bank in London by one George Vibart some
two hundred years ago - and which has been accruing – at compound rates – for many, many
decades. The original French gold may have been illegally obtained – seized on the
high-seas perhaps - but who cares? By not touching the capital and living only off the
steadily burgeoning interest, the male heads of the Vibart clan have done increasingly
well ever since… The Chairman of the very large banking corporation which currently has
‘the Vibart account’ – the original very small bank having been absorbed upwards – makes
it his business to send David a positively massive hamper from Fortnum & Mason and two
dozen bottles of vintage champagne in December every year – ’47 Hiedseick if he can get it
– as ‘something for your Christmas table, David’….
However, the present David Vibart’s wealth has nothing – or very little - directly to do
with this story, except that the money enables him to live in the style he is used to and
to do anything – anything whatsoever - he might want to do… So…
David Vibart’s house is called, oddly, ‘The Cradle’ and is occupied by himself and his
household-staff of just four, three of them young women, Barbra and Chlöe and Didi –
not their real names – and a Mrs McGregor – also not her real name – who is his
Housekeeper and possibly fifty. It is a settled, rather inward-looking household staff,
there to care for the needs David and to run the house itself and, in the case of the
staff, to avoid unnecessary contact with the outside world, mainly because they were
originally ‘recruited’ – David’s euphemism for ‘snatched’ - from various locations in the
outside world, three from unpleasant ‘Correctional Facilities’ of one sort or another and
one whilst en-route to her first employment in a very nasty State Brothel. The outside
world wants them back, they don’t want to go back and David wants to keep his staff….
There is an unspoken agreement between David Vibart and his household staff that he will
do nothing to jeopardise their remaining in his house – where they are paid very
generously, live in wealthy, comfortable surroundings, have mostly light duties and are
allowed to indulge in any form of same-sex sex between each other – not necessarily
lesbian sex - ‘straight’ or ‘deviant’, whichever they like or prefer - providing that they
in their turn accept unconditionally his own somewhat esoteric lifestyle and preferences…
Happily, very soon after the four women had come to the house this proved to be an
arrangement which suited all parties…
One of his three young ‘housegirls’, Chlöe, is a pale-as-pale skinned
northern-European with the long bones of a highland-Celtic ancestry, a slender, too-white
girl with untidy black hair but rather startling blue eyes. Barbra is from Myanmar -
Burma if you prefer - and the colour of dark honey and Didi is black-as-black from central
Africa somewhere. Didi is notable for her extremely well-developed, jutting and very firm
breasts - although the other two are also well-endowed in the mammary sense, for David
likes a woman to have ‘good, handle-able tits’. They are all, having been in his employ
for some time, efficient at their various domestic duties in the house and have developed
personal relationships which suit them admirably: Barbra, for instance, reacts well with
Didi – who has a preference for bondage – with Barbra in bondage – and chastisement –
meaning Didi likes to beat Barbra’s entirely beatable backside, while Chlöe just
seems to go along quietly with whatever anyone wants of her. Mrs McGregor tends just to
watch. The only possible ‘downside’ for the three ‘house-girls’ to being on the staff at
David’s house is that, when any of them fail to show the necessary respect to David
himself or fail to carry out their duties properly Mrs McGregor canes the backside or
backsides concerned with a thin black rattan…None of the three girls object very much, if
at all, to being caned or watching a caning - as long as it’s not too often – they are,
after all, young and female and sexually-eager. Mrs McGregor derives her own pleasures
from her salary, from her status, from having subordinates she can order-about and control
- and cane of course – but also from the orgasms she has when doing the caning.
But to return to David Vibart himself: his principal and devouring interest is, as
already revealed, ‘the history and development of Early Man’…..or to be precise, that of
‘Early Woman’. His interest was originally sparked – detonated is a better choice of
word - during an after dinner conversation with three other excessively-wealthy men when
the subject drifted round to women – women in general - as it commonly does amongst human
males. Initially as an amusement they postulated, imagined, a ‘perfect woman’, found that
they were pretty-much in agreement as to what that was and, more importantly, they got
into a rather alcoholic discussion as to the reason why ‘women have evolved away from
‘perfect’, as they undoubtedly have’ … As one of them expressed it, “a cunt, a womb and
tits are enough for sex and procreation so why the mouth and the talking and the
opinions….”
“An’ the pseud…pseudo…” said the most drunk of the four, “…the pretend female-brain
thing? From an evolutionary point of view I mean…”
Another said that the First Woman was probably ‘jus’ for sex, a domestic
sex-animal…animal. Gen’l servant sort of thing kep’ by the men… Lead me to it. Any of
these ‘first women’ left, do you think, in a jungle somewhere?”
“No chance. You’d have to create one from the l-lousy raw material we’ve got now…” and
there the subject was dropped by all – except by David Vibart.
For David Vibart, over the ensuing weeks it was at first a purely intellectual exercise;
defining the ideal, ‘original, natural woman’. Very rapidly he arrived at the initial,
basic requirements; ‘A Pleasing Bodily Form, Fully Developed Sexuality, Total Submission
and Total, Absolute Obedience to Man’ – ‘man’, in practical terms, meaning any human male
who commanded or owned her. David reasoned that this was the direction in which the
Darwinian evolution of species was taking ‘woman’ before the intervention of so-called
progress: so began his idea of actually re-creating that original, ‘natural First Woman’
from a present-day example, taking a present-day female and erasing her whole clouded,
confused, ridiculous misunderstanding of ‘herself’ and ‘life’ - the result of corruption
by the unnatural path down which ‘society’ had led the human female. If indeed women were
ever human females: he was already inclined to the belief that they might not be human at
all.
As the original ‘first-horse’ from the fossil-record was called eohippus – Dawn Horse -
so he, as an interesting exercise, would re-create a ‘Dawn Woman’, whether she turned out
to be human or not…. Teach her – free her by teaching her that a woman is neither a
misfit nor a competitor of Man – nor that utterly inane concept, a female gender-version
of Homo Sapiens Sapiens1 - but one of a separate, nevertheless evolutionarily-important
and distinct species – ‘probably to be placed with the gibbons within the Hylobatidae’ -
and which evolved as a symbiote of Man - to be used by Man both to serve his physical
needs and, if required, to procreate the higher life-form from his seed. David Vibart, in
re-creating a Dawn Woman – if he could – would be able to teach any ‘modern’ woman that
she and therefore all women were not misfits in the mammalian tree but entirely separate,
natural animals whose evolution has merely gone astray, animals with a temporarily-lost
but possibly recoverable and really quite important niche within that part of the phylum
that includes Man-proper.
Obviously much had been lost: the unique finger-and-palm flexure of a ‘woman’s’ hand,
found in over ninety percent of remains from the Cro-Magnon period, specifically
articulated and shaped to enable the fingers to close naturally round and to hold an erect
penis, is almost extinct in today’s ‘woman’… The so-called ‘Saxon Crotch’ - where the
thighs meet not at an almost-pointed Gothic arch but where the gap is flat-topped, wide
enough for an upturned male palm to lay neatly against the flatness and against the vulva
- is a valued form found today in only three percent of women but in pre-historic woman
was ubiquitous. Lost too an ability in ‘Dawn Woman’ to sense the faintest pheromones and
automatically leak sexual fluids in the mere presence of a specimen of Homo Sapiens - her
Master – true Man…. Evolution, David reasoned, has been and is still being tripped-up by
artificial ‘progress’ – the almost-lost female ‘Saxon Crotch’, for example, is
demonstrably a higher evolutionary-form, far better-able to accommodate the natural desire
of the larger human Male to lift - and probably conveniently carry - the smaller creature
‘wo-man’ by shoving one hand under her crotch…
As a result of his newly stimulated interest in the subject David began to study
prehistoric man, particularly Cro-Magnon Man – or more specifically, illustrations and
museum-models of Cro Magnon woman - and the more he learned, the more his ideal of a ‘Dawn
Woman’ grew in his mind. One brief clip from an animated educational niche-film about the
‘development of Man’ particularly fired his determination to re-create a Dawn Woman: the
film was generally unremarkable – depicting a group of almost one-dimensional coloured
drawings of animal-skin-clad ‘cave people’ sitting on some rocks apparently sharpening
tools; most were adult or adolescent males but there were three women too, one bringing on
her back sticks of wood for the fire and two crouching on the ground grinding seed between
stones. Interesting – but it was the next 143 seconds of film which were, to David, so
important, in that they depicted, probably unintentionally, what he believed was the true
relationship of the prehistoric woman-animal to prehistoric Man. In the film, one of the
squatting men put down whatever implement it was he appeared to be sharpening, looked
round the group, looked at the two seed-grinding women, picked up a pebble and threw it
accurately at the smaller one, the one whose very nice but grubby breasts jutted bare from
her scanty animal skin covering. She looked up, he made a brief, guttural sound – gunnndd
– and a quick hand gesture at her…
…with the result that she scrambled to her feet, scampered quickly to him, pulled and
shrugged-off her animal-skins so that she was naked – to David actually rather dirtily
naked but pleasantly so – turned her back on the man and dropped to her hands and knees,
only to immediately rise onto all fours. In a moment the man was behind her, thrusting
his very erect penis into her slit and copulating vigorously for a few brief seconds: then
- the woman clearly having served his immediate needs - he pulled out of her, adjusted his
own animal-skin garment, used a foot to thrust her over onto her side as a signal of her
dismissal – and returned to his tool-sharpening… She returned to her seed-grinding…
She is a creature from the prehistoric past, David’s Dawn Woman…. Not necessarily human
- just an animal servant of Man….
He obtained a copy of the film and took it home to run – and re-run, watching it in his
study with, every time, his prick mounting higher and harder under his pants. The small,
dirty, tangle-haired woman on the screen, on all fours and being shafted from behind by
Man, was to him exactly the ‘perfect’ woman he and his colleagues had discussed. A ‘first
woman’, a Dawn Woman – and he was going to re-create her… Not her specifically, but a Dawn
Woman to satisfy his own needs…. Perhaps, if he was successful the result could be cloned
and – er – marketed….
Would any one of his house-staff do as raw-material? Hardly; Mrs Mac clearly not - but
the others? No, he would need a smaller, even younger female – the house-girls were in
their late teens or early twenties – and an unsophisticated one, unsophisticated in the
sense of being completely without the far-too-developed sexuality and pretentious
self-awareness of most twenty-first-century young women. All he wanted was the right
recruit…. ‘Do it’ said his mind, ‘you can afford it, whatever it costs’. ‘Do what?’ he
asked himself. ‘Write-up a detailed spec of her – the ‘raw material’ – and use money to
find her, anywhere. Then abduct her and bring her here. Make the place ready for her while
you wait for her….’.
Mrs Mac and the house-girls would be no problem; he’d need them… They might even like
the whole idea… If they didn’t, well, there was that mega-buck crook Alexei
Zolov-something, the ‘steel baron’ who also owned the contract to supply and staff the
Russian defence-establishment’s hundreds of military brothels. If the girls didn’t want to
stay when David’s specially-recruited ‘trainee’ arrived, they could go to where the beds
were just straw-filled pelisses, where ‘bondage’ games were done with permanently-locked
or even welded chain and the weather wasn’t ‘Western Europe Maritime’ but year-long
Arctic. Sod them….
Fantasy? No, for David Vibart was now single-mindedly obsessed with his concept of
‘Dawn Woman’ and, fortunately, could afford to do whatever he liked… So very quickly he
began to experiment: he began to pay, by devious means, to have young, suitably attractive
women lifted from the street in different parts of the world and taken to his house as
trainees, the ‘training’ consisting of, initially, nothing more than trying to instil in
them Total Submission and Absolute Obedience by means of crude force of the kind favoured
by the Baron de Sade - and other more modern proponents of what is euphemistically called
‘BDSM’. Nowadays, thanks to the Internet, man’s sexual and other requirements as regards
the ‘perfect woman’ are, if not better understood, at least catalogued, from ‘ABs’ –
adult babies or women in diapers, pacifiers and such’ - through ‘BW’ – women in any kind
of bondage or restraint - ropes, straps, chains, mechanical-devices - through to ‘CP’ -
‘corporal punishment’ to ‘FW – women in ‘fetish wear’ be it leather, rubber, plastic,
uniforms etcetera’ and ‘SD’ - the sexual discipline of chastity-belts, ring-closed labia,
steel breast shields’, plugged or sewn-closed orifices… ‘Sex is Everything and Everything
is Sex…’ as one old mantra goes. The list of things a woman should know-about and do is
extensive but not unmanageably so, yet a perfect ‘dawn woman’ meeting David’s Third
Requirement – ‘Fully Developed Sexuality’ – would have to know, understand and accept
these things and accept and practice Complete Subservience - to the one species for whose
purposes Evolution and David Vibart had created her… If he could… There was however the
faint possibility that some ‘race-memory’ - more correctly ‘species memory’ - of Dawn
Woman might survive in a few of today’s females… Today’s woman, re-created as a ‘Dawn
Woman’ – ‘Eo’ or ‘eohylobates pseudohominidus2 as he liked to think of her, would have to
be taught much, but not all - especially if some sort of ‘species-memory’ actually
existed and could be stimulated.
That he achieved an almost-obedient and highly submissive female, five times out of six
experimental attempts, by simple and repeated ‘BDSM’ was due to patience, persistence and
a limitless project-budget. As he could only train one at a time though, once any
‘trainee’ reached what he considered to be either her maximum development – or his
patience-limit - he disposed of her for free through Alexei whatever-his-name was and
replaced her with another…..
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