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Message-ID: <42825asstr$1054941005@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Crimson Dragon <dcrimsonp@nym.alias.net>
Subject: {ASSM} (New) Dawn of Time [095/157] (MF+, bond, control) {Crimson Dragon}
Date: Fri,  6 Jun 2003 19:10:05 -0400
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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 95

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

(C) Copyright 2002 - All Rights Reserved

Crimson Dragon (dcrimson@yahoo.com)

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

Dawn let her head fall wearily to the steering wheel of the Buick.
Without looking, her fingers switched off the engine. The car
refused to die for a moment, dieselling.

"Stop, dammit," she whispered, and the car obeyed, the silence of
the world pressing into her like the emptiness of outer space.

The Buick had settled into the same double parked position that Kate
had chosen for the Toyota. Slowly, Dawn pushed open the car's door,
her body aching, and her mind spinning.

She walked around the front of the car, until she stood on the
sidewalk. A pretty girl of about nineteen with a low cut blouse
strode by oblivious to her. A doorman, inside, stared at the girl.

Dawn looked up. The Westin towered above her, mocking her.

How far up had they been? Her thighs screamed at her, protesting the
thoughts. She wasn't sure how many more flights of stairs she could
climb and doors she could open without rest.

She collided with the glass entrance door, banging her shoulder
against the unyielding glass. Tears of pain and frustration sprang
into her eyes, and she slowly lowered herself to the concrete, legs
tucked under her.

She sat there a long time, weeping into her hands under the steady
dead gaze of the doorman, and the oblivious girl.

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

Dawn's body tingled again -- not as badly as in the law firm, but
strongly enough that she was having trouble ignoring it. Her
breasts cried out for the whisper of a touch, and her clitoris sang
for attention. She willed away the sensations, but she knew that if
she had to continue to manipulate the timeline to free doors, or
overcome obstructions, it would become harder and harder to ignore
her raging hormonal response.

She leaned heavily against the polished granite of the reception
desk. A girl stood behind, her frozen hands busy with some paper or
a computer below. How much easier it would be to simply ask her if
she'd seen a time manipulating maniac, leading two naked girls
around on leashes.

The vision caught her by surprise: the girl in front of her, Rachel,
stripping, crying, climbing over the counter naked, standing in
front of the Timeman. Kate and Leigh stood watching, still barefoot
and naked, collars and leashes gracing their throats like pets.

Rachel picked up a backpack from where Kate was standing, and,
flushed, she began to walk towards a door by the elevators.

Dawn tried to call out, wanting desperately to know where they were
going, why Rachel had been released, how he'd made the girl strip
for him. But no sound emerged from her throat, and the only people
moving in the world disappeared through the doorway.

She returned to reality with a gasp and a cry. She sat curled up on
the marble below the counter, her breasts and vagina aching. She
snatched her hand from between her legs, and wearily pushed herself
to her feet.

For a while, she stared at Rachel, closing her eyes. She knew what
the girl looked like naked, had seen her bare breasts as she'd been
forced to strip. Despite the raging hormonal imbalance, Dawn pressed
her time bubble towards the girl. It extended nearly effortlessly,
but balked as it began to intersect with the girl's skin. Crying out
in desire and pain, Dawn pushed the bubble again. For a moment, it
held, and Rachel seemed to move, but only a hairbreadth. As Dawn
lost her tenuous grip, the bubble snapped back with enough force to
drive Dawn three steps backwards with a cry of surprised pain.

Tears sprang to her eyes as she lowered her hands to her side. Her
body ached, both in pure tiredness, and in desire for climax.

(No. No. No.)

(One damn question is all I wanted. Please.)

The universe continued to defy her desires, and Dawn wearily stepped
towards the doorway leading to the stair. She didn't even know,
if she had succeeded in waking Rachel, whether or not the
girl could have helped her find the Timeman.

(Why me?)

The universe refused to answer the girl, and with another sharp stab
of desire, the doorway swung open under her touch.

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

She could sense them if she really tried. Oh, the Timeman and his
immediate girls were bright enough, and Dawn consciously avoided
approaching those glowing, spinning, tennis balls. Soon, she
thought, but not now.

No, there were dimmer balls turning very slowly, almost
imperceptibly spinning. Close, and upwards. She didn't understand,
but after a few false starts, and a million curses -- each corridor
entrance had a closed door that drove needles of desire into her
core -- she opened the tenth floor doorway with a cry, and saw Mark.

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

He stood awkwardly, his hand raised as if he were banging on the
hotel room door. It was enough to capture Dawn's attention, and
carefully she stepped down the worn carpet of the corridor until she
stood beside him.

The Bridal Suite, the doorway proclaimed in blue letters.

There was no doubt about it, this man corresponded to one of the
spinning balls in the murky, hazy time space that she could somehow
sense. She'd always known that the tennis balls were people, but
somehow, the validation, the superimposing of a real figure with
that ball made her grin wildly.

Dawn studied the man, unsure of his role, and why his ball was
spinning ever slowly whereas everyone else stood completely silent.
On the surface, she could see no difference here. He was as dead and
still as everyone else that she'd ever met since the classroom an
eternity ago.

Not wanting to waste a valuable attempt on the man, she turned her
attention to the door. The Bridal Suite. Figured.

Beyond the door she could sense another spinning ball, as slow as
this man's. She wanted to rest before she attempted to enter the
hotel room, and she crossed the hallway, settling across from the
man pounding on the room door.

She lowered her face into her hands, and waited for some of the
energy in her to dissipate.

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

When she approached the door again, she noticed that it stood
unlatched. The small crack was nowhere near wide enough to permit
her access without freeing the door from the timelines, but at least
she wouldn't require a key. She doubted if she would have been able
to open the door otherwise. She would have been forced to descend,
and somehow figure out which key, perhaps that one in Rachel's
hands, led into the Bridal Suite. But the door stood slightly ajar,
and she should be able to push it open, with some effort.

With a small cry, she pushed the door with her fingers while
simultaneously freeing it from its timeline. It swung open with a
small creak.

She shivered as she twisted past the frozen man before the door, her
breasts dragging against his hard form. With a sense of relief, she
stepped across the threshold and entered the Bridal Suite.

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

A discarded pair of handcuffs lay like an omen on the entrance tile
to the room. Dawn stepped over them, avoiding them as if they were
something vile. A chair stood sentry in the middle of the room; a
hook gleamed in the ceiling above the chair.

Dawn shivered, picturing herself standing on the chair, a hangman's
noose about her throat. She turned towards the doorway, and, in
doing so, lost her tenuous time grip on it. It snapped shut again
with not a sound.

With a sigh, she paced forward, stepping around the chair, ignoring
it. As she passed it, a washed-out vision of Monique tied nakedly
into it shuddered through Dawn's mind. She gasped as the vision fled
her, before solidifying.

The second slowly spinning ball lay in the hot tub. Dawn blinked. A
young woman lay luxuriating in the tub, only her head and one hand
visible above the bubbles.

Dawn settled on the steps to the tub. She closed her eyes for a
moment. When she'd reopened her eyes, she knew what she needed to do
- -- or at least what she needed to try to do.


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-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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