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From: Crimson Dragon <dcrimsonp@nym.alias.net>
Subject: {ASSM} (New) Dawn of Time [094/157] (MF+, bond, control) {Crimson Dragon}
Date: Thu,  5 Jun 2003 16:10:06 -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 94

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(C) Copyright 2002 - All Rights Reserved

Crimson Dragon (dcrimson@yahoo.com)

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Kate could hear two soft murmurs from somewhere below and down the
stairs. The water from the shower abruptly turned off behind her,
and she jumped a little. She strained her ears through the eerie
silence of the world, but those were the only two sounds that she
could hear.

The air in the hallway was cooler, and drier, than the humid summer
air in the bathroom. The atmosphere almost felt alive and fresh
against her bare scrubbed skin.

Slowly, she turned and watched as her captor emerged from the
bathroom, slowly closing the door. Suddenly a deep dread infused
her, and shivers rippled through her body.

He was watching her, but as always, not her nudity as much as her
face. In a way, it was comforting, and in others it was damn
frustrating. She ached to touch herself, or have someone else touch
her -- the probing hands of Leigh in the shower had been only a
tease for what she really wanted. If she hadn't feared his
punishment had she been caught, she might have brought herself to
climax right there in the shower, handcuffed to Leigh. But she
hadn't dared, because it wouldn't have been her that would have
faced his reprisals. He probably would have whipped the skin from
Leigh, while she remained cuffed to the girl. And so she hadn't
touched herself, and that, perhaps most of all, bothered her. She
didn't even have the freedom to touch herself.

Her thoughts returned to whatever task he had decided that they
needed to do. She shifted her weight from bare foot to bare foot,
fighting the unease that threatened to spook her into an ill advised
flight. Actually, he didn't look all that enthused to be leading her
on the task either.

"Are you going to hurt me? I haven't done anything to deserve
punishment." Her breasts throbbed a little, almost inviting her 
to request rough treatment. She pushed the sensations away, 
though something deep inside of her told her that being
whipped might be easier than whatever it was he wanted from her. If
he was disquieted, there was something seriously wrong in the world.

Grimly, he shook his head, and reached out to grasp her elbow. She
wanted to shy away from his touch, but in the end, she allowed him
to guide her slowly down the hallway. As her feet shuffled over the
unforgiving hardwood of the hallway, she couldn't help but picture
herself, handcuffed, naked, hooded, being led to her executioner.
She shook herself, and massaged her free wrists. He wasn't taking
her to kill her, that much she was certain of. She was far more
valuable to him alive than dead. Why, she didn't quite understand,
but of it, she was certain.

They stood outside the first doorway.

"In there?" she whispered.

His voice came in a small waver, but only because she was somewhat
used to his unerring confidence, did she hear it.

"No, but we need to prepare," he said quietly.

"For what? To hurt me? To hurt someone else?" Her voice came
accusingly, bouncing off the closed door in front of her. "I won't
help you hurt someone else. You can whip me as much as you like --
I'll even let you -- but I won't hurt anyone else."

His words came with a bit of regret, and anger, chilling her. Her
breasts ached as he spoke.

"Dammit, Kate, I'm not going to hurt you, or anyone else. Christ,
girl, this is about not hurting her."

It took Kate a moment to recover, but when she turned, he was
shaking. If she didn't know better, then she would have thought he
was near tears. Her first instinct was to embrace him, but his
stance didn't invite that, and so she stood awkwardly, her fingers
grasping at the air.

"Who?" she asked.

Instead of answering her, he roughly pushed her shoulder, spinning
her. Automatically, she reached for the doorknob, and before her
body could stop her with another bout of unease, she stepped into
the relative brightness of a spartan bedroom.

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

Her fingers tugged at the sheets, and she stared in wonder at her
clean fingertips that emerged coated in a thin crimson. She
recoiled, stepping away from the bed that she was stripping like a
common, but naked, maid. Slowly, she turned towards him, where he
stood quietly, arms crossed, by the frame of the entrance to the
small room. She held up her tainted fingers.

"You killed whoever lives here, you shit." Her voice emerged only a
little above a whisper. He slowly shook his head, a strange
expression upon his face. "She's hurt somewhere. How? How could you
... I thought ..."

She swallowed heavily. Even though he didn't answer her charges, she
honestly didn't believe that he would hurt anyone to the point of
putting their lives in danger. Yes, he played with guns, and he
could hurt a girl badly, if she balked enough. But so far, he
hadn't even really touched any of the girls, and beyond the
discomfort of restraints, and forcing them to climb stairs, and the
odd spanking, he had never drawn blood. She doubted if he really
wanted to draw blood, though she was sure he was capable of it if
thwarted enough. In fact, he'd punished Darren for even thinking
about hurting Karen in that way. At the thought of Karen, she ached
a little. The girl was safe again, as if this world didn't exist. It
didn't for her. But he would whip a girl, happily. A whip, at least
to her, was far different than wielding a knife against helpless
skin.

"Just strip the bed, Kate," he murmured.

She stared at him for a moment, then turned her attention back to
the soiled sheets in front of her. She avoided touching the red
stain, but carefully removed the sheets from the bed and placed them
on the floor near the small closet.

When she was done, she straightened and walked until she stood a
metre in front of him. She placed her hands on her hips.

"Was it an accident? Does she need help?"

"Who?"

"The girl you hurt in here?"

He sighed.

"I didn't hurt anyone, yet," he said simply, though his attitude and
words said that if she weren't careful, she might yet feel the sting
of his crop. "But it wasn't an accident, and I think she needs
help."

The words confused her, and she was about to challenge him further,
when he continued to speak.

"Do I need to cuff you? Or will you come?" He beckoned to her,
stepping out of the small bedroom.

"I won't hurt anyone for you," she said quietly.

"I don't want you to, Kate. I don't want you to."

With a sigh, Kate followed him into the hallway, allowing her hands
to fall from her bare hips. She glanced back. The spot of blood upon
the sheets winked at her from where the fabric lay near the closed
closet door.

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

"I don't want to go in there, do I?" Kate whispered.

She stood in front of him, facing the broad, undecorated expanse of
a doorway. The door mocked her. She wanted to see through it, wanted
to know what she would find beyond before she was forced to step
over the damning threshold. She'd seen enough suffering, between
her own experiences and those of her sisters in captivity. At least
her hands weren't bound to face the unknown. She was somewhat
surprised that she was as free as she was. Restraints had almost
become a way of life for her, and she felt even more naked without
the bands of steel holding her wrists.

Slowly, she turned to face him. He seemed as reluctant as she to
enter the room.

"What's in there?" she asked quietly.

He seemed unwilling to answer her, or perhaps unable. In contrast
to their indecision, Leigh's voice rose in soft song, singing an old
Elton John tune, from where she was undoubted drying herself in the
bathroom. Kate earnestly wished that he'd chosen Leigh to accompany
him on this trip, instead of her. Leigh was more ... stable ... in
the face of these situations. The sound of a hair drier punctured
the still air of the hallway through the bathroom door.

"What's in there?" Kate asked.

He shook his head in response, and reached past Kate to turn the
doorknob. She heard the door opening, didn't want to turn around to
see. Dread spread through her skin like a wave upon the ocean.

"Please," she whispered.

"We have to help her," he said quietly.

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

The scene imprinted itself upon her eyes like a sharp slap across
the face. The situation unfolding captured in the mists of time
rocked her backwards until she fell into the solidity of his form.
Almost tenderly, his arms wrapped around her shoulders from behind,
his fingertips brushing at the tops of her bare breasts. Kate didn't
notice those sensations though, her eyes wide and almost
disbelieving.

Within a fraction of a second, the individual components of the
scene flowed into her mind -- the girl kneeling, mouth open, bruises
kissing her soft skin, so resembling the man towering over her,
lowering his zipper.

"No," Kate whispered.

Gently, he pushed her inside, and her feet balked, but inexorably
she walked inside the bedroom of horror. Kate twisted from his
grasp; the trepidation fled. She ran lightly to where the girl
knelt. She couldn't help the tears that involuntarily traced down
her cheeks.

Tentatively, she reached forward, tracing her fingertip along the
frozen bruise forming under the girl's right eye. Almost to
herself, she whispered: "No, no, no." Even the cold, dead feel of
the girl's flesh didn't dissuade her from touching her cheek.

Slowly, Kate pushed herself to her feet. The Timeman stood halfway
between the bed and where Kate had risen. Despite her anger, she
examined the man's frozen form, but didn't touch him.

"How can anyone ..." Kate said quietly, turning to face her own
captor.

The Timeman shook his head, looking pale.

"We have to help her," Kate said quietly. A wave of nausea engulfed
her as she pictured herself in the place of the girl.

The Timeman shook his head slowly. "The kindest thing we could do
would be to leave her alone." He slowly walked back to the girl's
small bed where stuffed animals sat a lonely vigil. His weight
dimpled the bed, and one of the animals fell unheeded to the floor.

"Leave her? Like this? That's probably her father."

"I know," the Timeman said quietly.

"Why did you bring me in here if you were only going to let her be
raped anyway?"

"I can't prevent that, Kate."

"Can't? Or won't?"

The Timeman sighed. "It's the Judge all over again."

"Judge?"

"Never mind. What I mean is, that I have to eventually let all of
you go. If I were to free the girl, it would only be temporary.
She'd return here to face what she has to face."

Kate inhaled sharply, but didn't respond.

(Eventually let me go, too?)

(What did you think, girl? That he could keep you in chains forever?)

"Can't we help her at all?"

He pursed his lips. "I'm the only one here that will remember."

"She's suffering."

"Outside of this timeline," he elaborated.

The knowledge hit her like a brick. Her own suffering, her own pain,
her own self-discovery, it was all temporary. Somewhere she knew
that -- it kept her going, gave her courage. It would all be over,
and she'd return to her own time, unsullied, untainted by this man's
hand. Her life would return to normal. She could almost accept her
treatment here as an opportunity. Not one she would have chosen, but
one that she could perhaps understand. This girl, whoever she was,
didn't have those options. She was in this for real -- raped, and
tortured for a sick mind's pleasure. No reprieve. No blessed
ignorance after it was all over. It would never be over for the
kneeling girl.

Kate turned to stare at her, eventually dropping to her own knees in
front of the girl.

"Give her freedom. Please?"

Kate twisted to capture the Timeman's eyes with her own. Tears still
dripped silently down her cheek unchecked.

"Freedom?"

"Compared to what she's facing here, you are freedom. Even if you
made her into a sex slave -- you aren't her father, and you ... are
kind in your own way."

He seemed surprised by her entreaty, slowly climbing to his feet. He
approached Kate, eventually crouching beside her.

"I've been through this before," he said.

"Deja vu?"

He shook his head. The motion made Kate shiver; she knew enough that
she didn't want to know the circumstances behind where he'd been
faced with this before.

"She deserves freedom, at least for a while. Please? I'll do
whatever it is you want."

Slowly, he pushed himself back to his feet and returned to the bed.
It squeaked in protest as he settled to the mattress. He lay back,
his hands entwined behind his head.

"If we do this, we do it all the way," he said to the ceiling.

Kate had no idea what that meant, but she didn't really care. She
turned back towards the girl, gazing into her tortured blue eyes.
Her heart nearly broke at the torn buttons on the girl's blouse and
her hopeful expression with her mouth open waiting for her torment
to be over. Tears began again.

She heard the Timeman shift behind her somewhere, and her heart
began to hammer in her chest. A thought raced through her mind.

(I shouldn't be naked. I shouldn't be naked. She'll be more
 frightened ...)

But Kate never had a chance to voice it.

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