index

Message-ID: <40639asstr$1043903404@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Crimson Dragon <dcrimsonp@nym.alias.net>
Subject: {ASSM} (New) Dawn of Time [008/157] (MF+, bond, control) {Crimson Dragon}
Date: Thu, 30 Jan 2003 00:10:04 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

-----BEGIN PGP SIGNED MESSAGE-----

====================================================================
Author's Shortened Preface:
====================================================================

In the interests of reducing bandwidth the full preface is now 
available at:

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Crimson_Dragon/www

I would encourage you to read it at least once. If you ignore
the full preface and end up offended, you have nobody to blame but
yourself. Caveat emptor. The really important bits:

This is a work of erotic fiction. As such there may be scenes with
nudity, sex, and even questionable non-consensual bondage. If you
are a minor, or you are irresponsible at any age, you shouldn't be
reading this -- find somewhere else to play. I won't be offended.
If you are looking for a quick stroke story, this probably isn't
it. For a piece of writing of 157 chapters, there is remarkably
little sex. You've been warned. Twice.

This is an original work, copyrighted by the author, Crimson Dragon.
Please do not use it as if it were your own. Enjoy the writing, but
do not archive or sell it in any manner without my written
permission. I'm easy to contact if you wish to redistribute my
words.

Lastly, I thoroughly enjoy hearing from people reading any of my
stories. Feel free to contact me with raves, rants, encouragement or
dissertation (note the lack of invitation for spam). I do try to
reply to all who are kind enough to drop me a note.

Now, if you are still with me, onto the story,
 - Crimson
   (dcrimson@yahoo.com)

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Crimson_Dragon/www

====================================================================

Dawn of Time - Crimson Dragon (dcrimson@yahoo.com)

Chapter 8

====================================================================

(C) Copyright 2002 - All Rights Reserved

Crimson Dragon (dcrimson@yahoo.com)

====================================================================

He inhaled sharply, almost as if expecting a sharp pain. Then, with
an effort, he extended the time bubble to include the office. He was
careful to keep the time bubble from intersecting with anything else
- -- only to the door, but not beyond.

Her voice continued as if she'd never stopped.

"... physics experiments, we're going to need ..." her voice trailed
off as she realised that the sound issuing from the receiver was
unusually blank. She dropped the pen with a clatter on her blotter,
and turned towards the phone. Puzzled, she depressed the switch
where the handset normally rested. When that failed, she jiggled the
cradle a few more times. Slowly, she returned the handset to its
home.

Finally, she raised her eyes and jumped, backing her chair away from
the desk before catching herself.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in. Can I help you with
something?"

He remained leaning against the door, the gun hidden behind his
back. He watched her silently for a moment.

"You work down in the lab, don't you? Can I help you with
something?" she repeated, a touch of irritation entering her voice.

Nonchalantly, he allowed his right hand to lower, the gun pointing
towards the floor. Her eyes were drawn to it, like a hypnotising
cobra.

"Sandra?"

Slowly, she looked up, fright beginning to enter into her eyes.

"What? What do you want?"

He hesitated for a moment, watching as her right hand began to move
carefully and smoothly towards the phone on her desk. His answer
stopped her hand, for a moment.

"You."

Her face registered her confusion, but the lines of a frown began to
form between her eyes. Her hand lifted the receiver.

"Security isn't there," he spoke softly.

Emboldened by his words, she quickly moved the handset to her ear,
puzzled by the lack of a dial tone. She depressed a button on her
phone, which even from the door he could read marked as "Emergency".
He supposed that this counted as an emergency. At least for Sandra.

After repeatedly punching the button, she gave up and returned the
telephone to its cradle with a quiet clatter.

"What do you want?" she asked warily. Her eyes darted about the
room, but always returned to the gun idly present at his right side.

"You," he answered again. "I don't like to repeat myself."

She backed the chair away from the desk a little further.

"Me? Why?"

He smiled, moved away from the door a little to lean against a
filing cabinet.

Instead of answering her, he gestured towards the door with the gun
barrel. Her eyes followed the movement.

"Go on," he said. "Try it. I won't shoot you for trying."

Looking confused, she rose to her feet. He watched her. She
wouldn't look too bad naked, he thought. Not bad at all.

She watched him warily, eyes on the gun. He deliberately aimed it at
the floor, well away from her. She edged around the far side of the
desk, fingers trailing against the surface.

As she reached the edge, she bolted, her feet carrying her to the
door in two quick steps. Her movements were faster than he'd thought
that she could move in the pumps she wore. Fear can instil ability,
he mused. She was screaming before the door had even opened.

"Help! Help me, please. He's got a gun!"

As she moved through the door, she sensed the danger somehow, tried
to pull back, but wasn't successful.

Air, full of molecules, became the equivalent of a solid when
trapped in a timeless state. Sandra managed to twist, but still hit
the invisible wall of air far harder than he'd expected her to. With
a startled cry, she bounced, sprawling backwards into the room in an
undignified heap.

She lay stunned for a moment on the carpet, before regaining her
senses. She crawled to the doorway, touching the frozen air with her
hands, confused, but still yelling to an uncaring world.

"Please, someone. He's. He's got a damn gun."

Her small fists hammered at the strange solid air, uncomprehending.

And suddenly the gun was there, pressed almost tenderly into the
nape of her neck. She stopped screaming and her hands fell to hang
limply and unthreateningly at her sides.

"They can't hear you, you know," he said simply.

She didn't turn, only whispered.

"Please don't shoot me. I'll give you whatever you want."

He laughed gently. "What do you think I want?"

"Money?" she said almost hopefully. "My purse is under the desk.
Take whatever you want. But please, please don't shoot me."

The gun retreated, and she relaxed a little, daring to turn around.
His back leaned against her filing cabinet, the gun now trained on
her, but not overly threatening. Still, she was sure that it could
be adjusted and fired well before she had risen to her feet. What was
she going to do? Scratch him? Bring nails to a gunfight? She
searched his eyes for a moment. Yes, he would shoot her, if she
tried something stupid. Of that, she was nearly sure.

"Sandra, Sandra, Sandra. I've already told you what I want."

She shivered, and her voice nearly broke on the word.

"Me?"

He nodded slowly, motioning at her to rise to her feet. Sandra
slowly shook her head negatively, as if denying that this was
happening to her.

"Sandra, dear?"

She looked up, fright evident in her eyes. She wanted to scream at
him that she wasn't his "dear", but she kept her lips pressed
together. He continued, his voice carefully monotone.

"I don't want to hurt you, but I will if I have to. I won't kill
you, maybe shoot you in the hand, or the leg, and you'll think you
are dying, but you won't be. But I think it might be easier if you
simply did what I tell you."

Sandra shivered.

"What do you want me to do."

"Stand up, for starters. We'll have to do something about that
memory of yours."

She hesitated. That gun was still aiming at her. She didn't know if
he could use it, would use it, but his eyes seemed serious. She only
hesitated for a moment, then slowly climbed to her feet. Unsteady on
her feet, she swayed uncertainly. Her hands remained motionless at
her sides.

He watched her for a few minutes, like a cat watching a mouse.

"How did you ..." Sandra began, her voice wavering.

He smiled enigmatically. "Time is fluid," he said clearly, though
his words made absolutely no sense to her.

Sandra shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Her fingers
began to fidget, but still he watched her. At last, he seemed to
find a decision, one she probably wasn't going to like.

"You believe that I'd hurt you if I wanted."

She nodded, afraid to speak.

"And you'll do whatever I want."

She nodded again, her eyes glued to that damnable gun. He waved it
towards her, smiling at her flinch.

"I don't want you to freak out," he kept his voice level.

"I don't want to die," she said simply. A tear began to form in the
corner of her eye. The man seemed to notice the wetness near her
eyes, seemed to hesitate for a moment.

Finally, he nodded.

"Good, Sandra. Good girl."

She hadn't been referred to as a 'girl' in a long time. In a way, it
seemed almost reverent, not demeaning. Not from the gunman. Strange.

He inhaled deeply, letting it out in a long sigh.

"Sandra, I want you to give me your clothes."

She started, stepped back as though slapped. Her mind whirled,
couldn't quite believe that he'd said it, but knowing that it was
so. She hadn't let her mind investigate this possibility. Why else
would he want you, she thought hysterically. She shook her head
slowly from side to side as if denying it would help her somehow.
The tear escaped from her right eye to lazily track down her cheek.

"Please no. I don't want to be raped."

He laughed gently while she backed up another step.

"Sandra, I have no intention of raping you or anyone else."

"You don't?" She desperately wanted to believe him. So desperately.
But he was holding a gun on her, wanted her clothes.

He shook his head. The gun never left her.

"Listen ..." she began, her voice wavering. She searched her memory,
but her mind refused to give up the information. She unconsciously
crossed her arms across her chest. "I don't even remember your name.
I'm sorry."

"It's not important," he replied, infinite patience infusing his
words.

"Please. Take whatever you want -- the purse is under the desk.
Please."

He stepped towards her, eyes carefully on her face. She backed away
until she felt the wall, under her inspirational poster that
proclaimed "You can do anything you set your mind to." The wall
pressed into her back solidly behind her. He approached her, but
stopped outside of her reach, not invading her personal space. She
shook, knowing that attacking him was useless.

"I have cash," she whispered. "I can get more."

He laughed again. "I don't want money, Sandra."

She regarded him for a moment, wishing the wall would open up and
swallow her whole.

"If you aren't going to rape me, then why?" She watched his eyes,
hoping to see the hint of a lie. There was none.

He smiled.

"Sandra, look around you. This is my world now, there is no one,
just you and I here. I could freeze you, you know?" She didn't know,
but she nodded anyway. "I could tie you up, no problem, and do
whatever I pleased with you. I could cut your clothes from you. I
could rape you while you struggled in the ropes." The statement
seemed to bring a sparkle to his eyes, but he continued, his eyes
somewhat truthful. "I don't want to rape you, I just want you to be
naked. Okay? I won't rape you."

No, it wasn't okay. Not with her. She trembled.

The gun suddenly was pressed under her chin, its cold barrel
indenting her skin. His hand remained steady holding the weapon 
against her chin. She shook, but he didn't. It was as if he'd done 
this before, was used to controlling women.

Slowly, resignation flowed into her veins. As he released the
pressure on the underside of her chin, she nodded slowly. He moved
back, watching her closely.

She allowed another tear to trace down her face as her fingers rose
to tug at the first button at the throat of her blouse.


-----BEGIN PGP SIGNATURE-----
Version: 2.6.3ia
Charset: noconv

iQEVAwUBPjgWXkxM3srBk85hAQEZUAgAk8YBVOU5FA8NYUB8jV0ghCDcJ+FWYsie
tF6ESkjuRs4/RVnBGlfRJj5ClV+tpft6yRSy8Vb3MK+8t0vvby9U7qMFipLZNZ8C
g/msb9Lfq+UDasWbmrGriqQlH9p2sNdsGKMrEgkPpGhs3ueFwphcPhY+1v1x1T3W
DOxB7p/iMzZq3rnU+XC7J0yqDJZYhNRvuiKWXaURivK+N1pvDCozgSBB9Xq1TyLk
Bo9C4D+Vr2qcGn7V/dAun2oxGGAU/m2DO39ohKlWSsPZqZSREEnU4VbEfw8hJnOB
LgfKMRy2GrQ4jHEXic+cmSfC5o2UsWcMS6ClEBplDM/fsodo0A1pEA==
=tmpq
-----END PGP SIGNATURE-----

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}|
|Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org>      |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+