When she came to, she was lying on a cool metal floor, curled up in a fetal position. She raised her head and gasped with shock and fear. She naked - and outside! How was that even possible! As soon as she got up, she realized her predicament. She was inside a glass cylinder, on a gray, cratered plain with the sun shining from a black sky.

    OK, so she was still on the Moon. Still home. But why was she trapped in this transparent tube, with what looked like cameras outside? If she stretched both her arms out, she cold just reach the sides of the tube with her fingertips. The glass was hard and cold. She looked up, and then she noticed it. Above her was a metal plate with a hole in the middle, from which a rope snaked down.

    To her horror, she realized that the rope was around her neck. She tried to pull the noose open to remove it, but even when she pulled at it with both hands it did not budge. This was bad, she realized. Really bad. Then, suddenly, she was startled as the silence was broken. There was a voice, coming from somewhere behind that metal plate above her.

    "Sandy Wilkins!" the voice said. It was a female voice, strong, confident. Someone who knew that they were in total control.

    "Yes, I'm here," she answered. Because, why not? Naked in a glass tube on the surface of the Moon, surrounded on all sides by deadly vacuum, what else could she do but talk?"

    "We're the Lunar Independence Army," the voice said.

    "The what?" she said.

    "You heard it the first time. We fight for our independence as citizens of Luna, and have taken you hostage to show the world that we are serious."

    "So you're the one that ambushed me and brought me to this place?"

    "Yes. The fact that we could capture the world's most famous astronaut, the first woman on the Moon, and put her in a glass prison for all the world to see, should convince everyone that we mean business."

    "Er, what do you mean, "the world to see?""

    "You notice the cameras pointing at you? They give 360 degree coverage, and the images are transmitted to Earth via our stealth satellite as we speak. You are currently being watched by -" There was a pause as if numbers were checked "- 1,3 billion people."

    Sandy suddenly felt terribly self-conscious. She knew that she looked OK for her age. She had kept in shape, and had been blessed with tits that made men look a second time. But having everyone in the world seeing her?

She tried to cover herself with her hands, but realized that it was far too late for that and sighed. "So, what do you want from me?"

    "Nothing, really. All you have to do is to die for us."

    Sandy looked up at the ceiling. "What?"

    There was no answer, just a whirring sound from above. The rope! The rope was being winched up, and there was nothing Sandy could do about it. She looked out at the blind camera lenses, hoping that someone among the millions who watched her plight knew how to stop this.

    "Please," she said. "Stop it. This is stupid, if you kill me you will only damage your cause."

    The rope stopped, just as it was starting to cinch around her neck. As long as Sandy stayed in the middle of the tube, she was OK.

    "We stopped because we are polling our viewers," the voice said. It was so dispassionate that Sandy wondered if she was talking to a human at all. Was she about to be killed by an AI?

    "The results of the poll are in," the voice continued after a minute. "Ten per cent want us to let out all the air and watch you die unprotected on the surface. Forty per cent would rather see you suffocate slowly as you use up the available air, while fifty per cent want to see you hang. Probably for the novelty, as there have been no hangings on the Moon before."

    "But," Sandy said. "Don't I get a say in -"

    The rope whirred again, and this time it did not stop. The rope tightened around her neck, then started to pull her up. One second she was tiptoeing, the next she was hanging free from her neck.

    She gripped the rope above her head with both hands, and realized that she had no problems with lifting herself up enough to be able to breathe. Then it hit her. Of course! The Moon's low gravity meant that she only had to lift about one sixth of her weight.

    "That is a very sexy position," the voice said. "We just passed two billion viewers, and now everyone on Earth is telling everyone they know that you are on the tube, naked and about to hang."

    Sandy tried to reason with her captors. "Please," she said. "Listen, I can really help you guys. I know everyone from the president down. Just let me-"

    "How are your arms holding out?" the voice asked.

    Now that she mentioned it, Sandy could feel herself getting tired. Twenty five pounds didn't sound like much, but she had lived in low-grav for decades now and had lost a lot of muscle mass.

    She tried to hang completely still while she slowly rotated inside her tube. The view was fantastic. She loved the landscape, and hated the idea of leaving it so soon. There just had to be a way...

    Suddenly, her right hand got a cramp. Shit, she had held on too tight. She had to let go and hold on with her left. But the strain was getting to her, and she could feel the palm starting to sweat. She stopped the slippage with her right hand, but now it too was sweaty.

    She had to let go. The fall was very short, just a few inches. And when the rope squeezed tight, it was a lot less painful than she had feared. The low gravity helped. She tried to breathe as hard as she could, and managed to get a trickle of air into her lungs.

    Sandy tried to lift herself again, but the strength just wasn't there anymore. Her hands fell to her side, and she looked down at her body. Wow, her tits looked great from this angle. And her nipples... With her left hand, she caressed her breasts. They were rock hard and super sensitive.

    She took another breath. It was just enough to keep her going, but she was feeling dizzy now. Dizzy, and also slightly horny. She no longer cared that the world was watching, she just had to check. She reached down and explored her slit. It was wet, and swelling up by the second. She touched her clit. Oh God, she was ready to explode.

    Sandy knew that this was all wrong. She, as the first woman on the Moon, had a reputation to protect. Her brain told her that this would be the image of her that people remembered. Not her stepping out of a spaceship and onto the Moon, but her hanging and masturbating herself to death.

    But Sandy's crotch was screaming much louder than her brain now, and she decided to spend her last moments in this universe in bliss. She gave herself an orgasm, then another one as she thought of all the men she had known and fucked through her life. Here she was, the famous astronaut heroine, and all she could think about was cock!

    Now her lungs were running out of strength, she knew that this next breath would be her last one and decided to make the most of the oxygen. Kicking and thrusting her hips towards her hand, she rode her final orgasm like a rocket into the sky. When her hands fell down by her sides and a slow trickle of urine puddled on the floor beneath her, there was a broad smile on her face.

--------------------------

The moment astronaut Sandy Wilkins died, more than half the world's population watched in shock. It was a scene unlike anyone in history: A transparent tube on the Moon with a beautiful, dead woman hanging inside. Her orgiastic struggle had lasted for more than half an hour, showing billions of people how hanging could be enjoyable. Most viewers were repulsed, but millions were excited. There were a lot of tissues in use that night.

    And some were inspired. Not everyone realized the difference between Earth and Moon gravity and paid the price when they tried to "do a Sandy", as hanging would be known from now on. But for those who knew, it was just another reason to go the Moon. Soon, there were a whole new category of lunar tourists to reckon with. People who had rope and handcuffs in their luggage, and who asked if it was possible to book a glass tube on the outside.