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Message-ID: <42781asstr$1054638604@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Crimson Dragon <dcrimsonp@nym.alias.net>
Subject: {ASSM} (New) Dawn of Time [091/157] (MF+, bond, control) {Crimson Dragon}
Date: Tue,  3 Jun 2003 07:10:04 -0400
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Author's Shortened Preface:
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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

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

Chapter 91

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(C) Copyright 2002 - All Rights Reserved

Crimson Dragon (dcrimson@yahoo.com)

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

The engine finally died as she struggled to guide the big car around
the latest traffic jam. Abandoning the car in the middle of an
intersection, Dawn opened the door and stepped out onto the warm
asphalt. She glanced up the street. Overtop of the litter of frozen
pedestrians and cars, the building shone in the afternoon sun,
windows reflecting sunlight like a million copper sheets.

With a sigh, Dawn turned towards the old vehicle, something familiar
in a sea of chaos. She could sense it on two levels, with her eyes,
in the conventional sense, and outside of that, in the blue haze.
She nearly released it, but then caught herself. If she released it,
it would snap back to her driveway -- a long walk away. It didn't
take much effort to maintain the pocket of time -- it was generating
it that exhausted her mind, body, and soul. Her body throbbed again.

Turning from the rusty Buick, she set off, threading through
unresponsive pedestrians, and other obstructions.

                         <---===***===--->

The building rose impossibly tall above her, like a huge,
threatening dinosaur. She swallowed heavily, her hands on her hips.

(Do I want to go in there?)

He was no longer in there, she could sense that with the same
internal sight that allowed her to sense the Buick sitting idle four
blocks from here.

(Do I want to go in there?)

The revolving door mocked her, as the tingles began to rush through
her nerves again.

(Please, not again.)

She let her breath escape between her lips, and stepped determinedly
towards the glass enclosure of the lobby.

                         <---===***===--->

Her face rested in her hands, her breathing ragged. The cool of the
frozen glass behind her seeped into her back through her sweatshirt.

(I can't. Not here. Please.)

The door had yielded, with some effort, but it had taken its toll.
Her mind spun, reeling with hormone induced fatigue. Her nipples
and clitoris felt like they were on fire.

She yanked her hand from massaging her breast through her clothing.
A tear slipped from her eyes to burn down her cheek.

                         <---===***===--->

Her heart still raced, and her pulse pounded between her legs, and
in her chest, but she had regained some composure. She glanced
around the huge lobby. Everywhere, people stared at her, blank gazes
accusing her.

(I'm not a slut. I'm not.)

Slowly, she walked towards the security desk. The scene superimposed
itself through her sight. She'd been here, recently -- as Kate, a
naked girl standing there, bare feet warming the marble. Her breasts
tingled again at the intimate memory.

Except the blonde girl -- the security guard with the baseball cap
- -- wasn't here. Dawn leaned on the marble of the security console. A
comfortable swivel chair sat devoid of presence.

With a start, a flash of red caught her eye. Slowly, she lowered her
belly from the console, walking around the edge of the desk. Even
here, it seemed wrong to invade the sanctuary of the security desk
- -- almost as if a sign proclaimed it private territory --
"Trespassers will be shot."

She bent and fingered the fabric lying carelessly on the ground. A
lacy bra, not a practical one, lay amongst other discarded clothing.

"You want them?"

With a start, Dawn glanced around the silent lobby.

"Who's there?" she asked, breathlessly.

No answer returned. Dawn rose, still holding the brassiere in her
fingers. There was no movement in the lobby anywhere.

Dawn screamed as the vision slammed into her. She dropped the red
cloth from her hand as a blonde girl appeared behind the desk. She
twirled the fabric around her index finger, staring beyond where Dawn
stood transfixed.

"You want them?" the girl asked.

"No," Dawn whispered.

The image of the girl faded, her panties joining the rest of her
clothing behind the desk. Dawn shook her head as the real world
returned for her. Somewhere, inside, she knew that she'd witnessed
the past. She nudged the red bra back towards the back of the desk
to join the small pile of women's clothing there. On top of the pile
sat the panties that Dawn had seen the girl twirling about her
finger playfully.

                         <---===***===--->

She stared at the elevator doors. She pressed the little arrow that
should have glowed green, pointing upwards. The light didn't go on,
and neither did she hear the rumble that should have indicated an
elevator on its way.

She sighed, tried to expand the time bubble that encapsulated the
control, but it resisted her. Her mind swam with sexual energy, and
she moaned as finally, she was forced to abandon this. She glanced
up, cringing.

Suite 4201, the little silver plaque had read. Forty-two flights.

She nearly turned back towards the revolving door, and back to the
Buick, but at last walked to the brown door flanking the elevator
banks. She touched the door. She had to know.

It took most of her will, but she managed to get the door open
without touching her nipples.

                         <---===***===--->

She rested every five flights. Her footsteps didn't echo, and it
felt like the stairs would ascend until she reached heaven.

Kate and Leigh and the Timeman had done it. She could, too.

Somehow, she didn't think she would meet heaven. Something
different, perhaps.

Wearily, she rose again, and began to climb again. One stair at a
time.

                         <---===***===--->

Too many damn doors.

She sat in the same chair that Leigh had curled up in to read
Reader's Digest. Slowly, Dawn traced her fingers over the
mini-magazine as she tried to quell the insistent throbbing that
distracted her concentration.

The guy behind the reception desk mocked her, but Dawn was beyond
caring who saw her flushed, and uncomfortable. Yes, she was
sexually aroused, but who wasn't in this mixed up, crazy world.
Nobody that she'd seen.

She finally pushed herself to her feet and stumbled across to the
oaken doors that led to the office beyond.

"What the hell are you looking at?" she whispered to the boy as she
passed the reception desk. She had a sudden impulse to drop to her
knees, and crawl under his desk. She bet the damn universe would let
her unfreeze the boy, if she intended to have sex with him. In any
capacity.

She fought down the urge, and approached the door.

She braced herself for the onslaught of hormones, but extended the
time bubble anyway. She cried out as she nearly climaxed, snatching
her hand from her groin.

(No. No. No.)

She reached forward with her left hand, her fingers lightly coated
with her own scent and moisture. She slipped through the door,
sinking to the carpet beyond. When she realised what she was doing,
she forced her fingers from her mouth.

She cried for a while, but eventually, pushed herself back to her
feet.

                         <---===***===--->

Somehow, she knew. She didn't know how that knowledge had infused
her mind, but she knew. The door in front of her -- he'd been in
there.

She took a deep breath, and extended her aura to include the door.
She twisted the doorknob, and stumbled through, her body insistent
and close.

                         <---===***===--->

A woman -- the woman from the hallway -- crawled on all fours around
the periphery of the room. She was recognisable despite her head
hanging, and her being naked as the day she'd been born. She was an
extraordinarily attractive woman.

The Timeman sat on the edge of the desk between two men who seemed
to be awake. The older one, Blake, spoke about philosophy and truth
with the Timeman, while the younger man watched as the girl crawled,
crying and naked, around the edge of the room.

Dawn cried out, and forced the images from her mind. She stood
shaking, just inside the door to the opulent office.

Blake sat behind his desk, his eyes lifted a little from the
telephone in front of him. He seemed to be staring at Dawn, though
she knew that was impossible.

With a start, Dawn yanked back down her sweatshirt, and tore her
fingers from her nipples.

(No. Please, no.)

(Yes, Pandora, yes.)

She moaned, sinking to the floor. She cradled her head on her hands,
sure she would fall into a deep sleep, right there on the floor of
Blake's office. Her fingers trembled, and blue light infused her
vision.

(I won't masturbate. I won't.)

(Why?)

(Because I'm stronger than that.)

(You need to.)

(I don't. I don't.)

She wasn't sure of that, but after a while, she dried her eyes, and
pushed herself back to her feet. She swayed, lights dancing in front
of her closed eyes.

She braced herself again, and slipped back out into the hallway.

                         <---===***===--->

Dawn moaned again. The image of a brunette lay on the cluttered
desk, somehow merging with the controlled chaos of papers, pens, and
clips that sat there now. The crawling girl was on her knees, her
head buried between the brunette's thighs.

A sharp sound, of metal striking bare flesh captured Dawn's
attention. The Timeman stood with a frightened blond. Another red
stripe from the metal ruler marked her face.

"Stop, please stop," Dawn whispered.

As if it listened to her, the images faded. But the scents remained
- -- musk and sex -- and Dawn turned from the room, without thought
cringing as her own body cried out as the door opened.

"Oh God," she moaned. She sank to her knees, sobbing in the hallway.

                         <---===***===--->

She stood scared in front of the reception desk, her hands braced
against it to try and control the shaking. Her mind filled with
unwelcome images -- naked girls in chains.

She'd nearly done it. God. She'd nearly done it.

The boy sat in front of her, innocently unaware of her presence. He
would have fucked her, too, she was sure.

All she needed to do was cast the time bubble around him. It would
be simple. For him. And she would strip, and he'd ... fuck her.

She moaned like an animal, falling to her knees in front of the
desk. She could crawl under the desk, hidden from view -- only the
boy would know what she was doing with her lips.

(You won't make it down those stairs)

She moaned again, snatching her fingers from her own mouth.

(No. I'm not a damn nymph.)

(No. But Pandora was.)

(I won't fuck him.)

(Then you have to do what you don't want to do.)

(I can't.)

(You better.)

She finally gave in, feeling her fingers, as if they belonged to
someone else, unbuttoning her jeans and lowering the zipper.

"Please, no," she whispered. But her voice fell unheeded into the
silence of the world.

Her fingers didn't even feel like her own, brushing against the soft
folds of her vagina and clitoris. Her left hand kneaded her right
breast, pinching hard at her nipple. It didn't take long. Couldn't.
Images and emotions of Kate, and Leigh, and the other girls naked,
burned into her as her fingers moved.

She screamed, her back arching, her heart pounding in her chest.
Blue light exploded in her mind, and then another wave washed over
her.

"Oh, God," she moaned.

Without bothering to straighten her clothing, she rolled over on her
side, her hands cradling her cheek. Her scent, strong and musky,
surrounded her. She closed her eyes, and wept.

                         <---===***===--->

The universe had been more cooperative after her climaxes. She had
no trouble, beyond pure fatigue, in moving down the stairs and out
through the revolving doors.

Each time she needed to expand her bubble, new pressures exerted
upon her nerves, but the sexual energy still was at manageable
levels.

She sat out on the sidewalk, her face tilted up to gather in the
early afternoon sunshine. Despite a deep ache, she felt better, more
in control of her mind.

Dawn didn't understand all that she'd seen -- her foray into the
building almost on the level of a vivid dream -- but she knew that
she needed to continue.

Slowly, she pushed herself to her feet. She swayed for a moment, but
then retraced her steps back to the Buick.

                         <---===***===--->

It stood like a saviour in the middle of the intersection, a great
rusted chariot to take her on her next journey.

(Where?)

An image of a brunette girl faded into her consciousness. The girl
was naked, tied to a chair, screaming as her breasts were stretched
by a rope leading up through a hook in the ceiling to her bare toes.

She tore her eyes from the image of the girl, concentrating on the
view through the windows. Lakefront. She recognised a few of the
building close by.

And suddenly, the name appeared for her.

"Westin."

She opened the car door, praying that the car would start. The
engine balked, but eventually roared back to life.

(Please don't strand me. Not here.)

She glanced again at the office tower with a shudder. An image of
her lying on the reception floor, forty-two floors up, in front of
the boy, her hands buried under her clothing, writhing, invaded. But
she felt better, now.

She awkwardly turned the big car around, and began to drive towards
the hotel. It wasn't far. Almost close enough to walk.

She didn't quite understand how the name of the hotel had come to
her, but she knew that she had to go there. He was no longer there,
but something important was.

She navigated around a blue Jaguar, and continued slowly up the
cluttered streets. God, she felt better.


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