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Message-ID: <43101asstr$1056669004@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Crimson Dragon <dcrimsonp@nym.alias.net>
Subject: {ASSM} (New) Dawn of Time [109/157] (MF+, bond, control) {Crimson Dragon}
Date: Thu, 26 Jun 2003 19:10:04 -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 109

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(C) Copyright 2002 - All Rights Reserved

Crimson Dragon (dcrimson@yahoo.com)

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

He paused at the plate glass doors, almost as if he were too tired
to pull the entrance open.

"Too tired," he sighed. But she didn't think that he meant that his
arms were too tired to pull open the door. It sounded more general,
as if holding the timelines was a mental burden.

Monique didn't understand his words, but she didn't venture to ask.
He hadn't said a word since they left Melanie, and the bus, and
Monique had been satisfied to remain in her own thoughts as she had
walked through the grass, and now through the mall parking lot.

She glanced up. The entrance was painted blue, with a number
designating the entrance for shoppers to remember where they came
into the mall. She supposed that the average shopper could lose her
car, if she tried hard enough.

At last, the seemingly stubborn door swung outward, and Monique
sighed. She pulled at the cuffs holding her wrists, but stepped
across the threshold and into the coolness of the mall without
hesitation.

The air raised goosebumps across her belly, the noon sunshine not
reaching the interior of the building. Monique shivered, but placed
one bare foot in front of the other as he guided her down the mall
and around frozen shoppers.

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

She stood in front of a decorative fountain, the water frozen as if
an arctic breeze had washed across its surface. Above her, balloons,
rising on pillars of heated air and guided by almost invisible
wires, floated unmoving and silent.

"Why are we here?" she asked quietly, not turning around to face
him.

"Have to rest for a minute," he said.

She turned worriedly. "Is something wrong?"

She wasn't as concerned about his well-being as her own. If he
passed out, which he looked like he was close to, then what would
become of her? Would she be doomed to wander the mall, naked and
cuffed until she starved?

Slowly, he shook his head. "Just need to sit down for a minute."

She watched him skeptically, but didn't ask anything further. He
closed his eyes, and swayed on his feet. She had no way of catching
the man if he tumbled, but fortunately, she was spared the decision.
Her voice cried out, and she jumped as the sounds of splashing water
carried forward from behind her. The sounds of balloons rising on
their columns of air, filled her ears. She spun, as if a dangerous
animal were crouched behind her.

"Get in," he said.

She turned back towards him.

"What?"

"Get in."

"Where? The fountain?"

He nodded.

"What? Why?"

He shrugged, producing the key to her cuffs from his pocket. She
automatically turned around, and presented her hands to him, sighing
as the steel left her wrists.

"Go," he said, giving her shoulder a little push.

She shook her head, and turned to face him again. He looked pale and
exhausted. With her hands free, she considered what it might take to
tackle him to the ground. Then she glanced down at her nudity, and
sighed. The size difference wouldn't make it much of a fight -- even
if he didn't simply freeze her and then whip her for disobeying.

"Tell me why. Please?"

Instead, he glanced around the fountain. A young mother was walking
a carriage, approaching the fountain. A grandfather watched his
granddaughter as she knelt in front of the splashing water, face
uplifted fascinated by the balloons above.

"Monique, I can probably get her," and he pointed to the young
mother with the carriage, "to get in the fountain, just to prevent
me from picking up her baby."

Monique paled. The implied threat, of course, was that she would get
to watch it from a ringside seat, perhaps tied to one of the
benches.

"I'll go," she said quietly. "You don't need to do that. I just want
to know why. Please."

He sighed. "Sometimes there isn't a reason. You do things because I
merely want you to."

With another sigh, Monique turned and stepped over the low wall,
tiled in ugly brown ceramic. She jumped as her bare toes touched the
water.

She hissed, "It's cold. Please."

But when she turned to face him, his face carried a look that would
not be denied. She shrugged, and steeled herself.

The water wasn't deep, only up to her calves. Pennies, and nickels,
wishes from children and mothers, kissed the bottoms of her feet as
she walked carefully through the splashing water to stand near the
centre of the fountain. She placed her hands on her hips, and again
faced him. A trick of the light made it look like the little girl,
perhaps four years old, was looking at her, eyes wide. Monique
flushed, and nearly covered herself as best she could with her
hands. Instead, she turned her gaze from the child, and watched as
the Timeman settled into his dry bench, his eyes on her naked form
standing in the middle of the fountain.

"Why?" she asked.

"You know why," he said easily, crossing his arms across his chest.
He looked drawn and almost haggard. He closed his eyes, not even
watching her suffering.

She supposed that she did, know why. The age old mantra. Control.
He had her under his control, and she couldn't do a damn thing about
it.

She shivered, and wrapped her arms around her chest, carefully
keeping them under her breasts. She didn't need him to think she was
trying to hide her body from him. She wasn't. She'd have used the
same pose even if she'd been in a bikini. The cold permeated her,
rising up her legs like the warmer air lifting the balloons
rhythmically above her.

"It's cold in here," she said. "How long do you expect me to stand
here?"

He opened his eyes briefly, coughed, and closed his eyes again.

"Sit down."

"What?"

"Sit down. In the water. Now."

"But ..."

"Monique?"

His voice carried conviction. She knew, all at once, without further
protest, that one way or the other she would be sitting in the
fountain, cold, naked and wet. This way, it would be more her
choice, rather than being forced into it by way of the young mother
with the carriage. Monique closed her eyes for a moment; the image
of the mother tied and naked, begging for mercy as he whipped the
girl flooded her mind. The image had come far too easily.

With a sigh, and jumping with the discomfort, she settled her bottom
into the water. For a moment, she worried about the cleanliness of
the water that rushed up between her thighs to caress her more
private regions. The fountain should be clean, she told herself,
children can touch this water. Irony, she thought, I'm probably the
dirtiest thing that has touched this water today.

She reached down and picked up two coins. One was a quarter, the
other a penny. Twenty-six cents. She rubbed them together, touched
them to her lips, and tossed them easily over her shoulder.

She shivered miserably. Wishes rarely come true.

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

She climbed from the water, shivering, and naked, and expecting him
to put the cuffs back onto her wrists. He didn't, but she had no
way of drying herself, either.

She hugged herself, and fervently wished that he would climb into
the wishing fountain himself, just to see how uncomfortable cold
water in the middle of a mall was.

She sighed. That wasn't likely to happen either, was it? At least
he hadn't forced her to dunk her head. For some reason, though, her
skin tingled, as if she'd just emerged from a bathtub of hot water.
The shivering slowly subsided as she fell into an easy stride, her
arms free to balance her as she walked. Her feet left small wet
patches across the marble tiles of the mall as they moved deeper
within. The water from her skin slowly evaporated into the silent
air.

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

All the women wore the latest fashions here -- expensive designer
clothes, and expensive shoes. The clothing only served to contrast
against Monique's nudity, but she tried to keep her discomfort in
check, trying to remember that none of the haughty looking women
could see the naked girl walking around their frozen forms.

Ultimately, they wore the types of clothes that Monique had in her
former life -- impressionable clothing, power clothing. Now, she
wore nothing -- a naked animal. No more.

(No. Much more.)

Monique lifted her chin, only a touch so as not to attract his
attention. She walked on, her feet dry now, and whispering across
the marble.

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

"Here?" Monique asked incredulously. He merely nodded. "Do you know
how expensive the clothes here are?"

He smiled, waiting for her to realise something.

"Oh," she finally said. "What do you care?"

"Precisely."

She stepped across the threshold. She expected to hear the muted
warble of a light beam alarm, announcing the arrival of another
customer to the sales staff. The marble changed to simulated
hardwood under her bare feet, but she hardly noticed. They were the
only patrons of the frozen store. Only one bored looking, well
dressed, sales girl stood lounging near the cash register.

"Do we need help?" he asked Monique as she wandered through the
store. The clothes looked frozen, but each time she touched a gown,
or a blouse, or a sweater, the fabric seemed to flow into life and
caress her bare skin.

"Depends on what you want, I guess."

"I want two dresses."

Her eyes lit up. "For who?"

"For whom."

She didn't even bother trying to look like a chastened student.

"Whom, then."

Instead of answering her, he asked another question. She was growing
accustomed to this, and didn't bother repeating her own question.
He'd answer it in his own time, if she was to know the answer.

"Would you say the girls are the same size?"

"What girls?"

"You. Andrea? Kate? Leigh?"

She thought back. Women noticed these things, and weren't bad, in
general, at guessing dress sizes. She, herself, rarely bothered with
such things, but being naked, and in the company of naked girls, one
couldn't help but notice body types and sizes. Each girl that he'd
taken was stunning physically, she knew, and though there were
individual differences, breast size, and hair colour, each had the
same basic body type and size, including herself. She didn't
consider herself stunning -- she didn't know why he'd taken her, but
her body size was comparable to Kate, or Leigh. She idly wondered if
such things said anything about her captor.

"We're all about the same size. Andrea might be a little taller."

He glanced meaningfully at the bored sales girl.

"Should I get her to strip and help us?"

Monique shook her head quickly. "What do you want me to do?"

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

She picked up the two long black evening gowns, draped them over her
left arm, and turned towards the back of the store.

"Where are you going?" he asked, a note of patience in his voice. He
sat easily in one of the courtesy chairs that normally husbands, or
bored boyfriends, might normally occupy while the girl would try on
fancy, overpriced fabrics.

"The dressing room?" she said quickly.

He laughed and raised his eyebrows.

"You want me to change here?"

He laughed again. "Change? Monique ..."

She felt like slapping her forehead, but she didn't. "I'm not
dressed anyway." Slowly, she returned the longer of the two dresses
to the rack, draping it to keep the tail of it off the ground. She
glanced around, almost as if to ensure that nobody was watching her.
Of course, nobody but him was.

She pulled the first gown easily over her hips, and sighed as she
slipped her arms through the spaghetti straps. It would fit better
if she were allowed a push up, but overall it draped about her body
like a dream. She sighed again, raised her arms and spun slowly.

"It'll do," he said easily. She flushed, and turned back to face
him. The simple fabric, even with the lack of underclothing or
shoes, felt wonderful against her skin. It had only been a day or so
without, but the simple act of covering her nudity felt --
liberating.

"Next," he said.

She swallowed, and blushed, but without hesitation, she slipped the
gown back from her body. It felt wrong, stripping in the middle of
the store, somehow worse than simply walking in without clothes, but
she did it. She draped the gown over another rack, and picked up
the next one. She turned to him.

"Can you tell me who it's for?"

He shook his head. "Why?"

(Because I want to know? That's why?)

"Um. This one is larger than I am. Up top. If it's for Kate, or
someone larger than me, it should fit fine, if it's for me," she
said with an edge of hopefulness, "then a smaller busted one might
be better."

"Try it on."

She shrugged, and repeated her earlier motions, drawing the gown up
her bare body until it sat around her breasts. It didn't have
straps, and flushing, she realised that it might not stay up. She
gathered in the bust line with her fingers, and slowly spun for him.
When she stopped turning, he was watching her with some interest.

"It would look better if I was, um, bigger, and if I was allowed
some shoes."

He smiled gently at her. "It looks fine. You can take it off now."

She didn't move, her fingers clutching the fabric tighter to her
skin. She slowly shook her head.

"Please. I know it doesn't even fit me properly, but can't you let
me wear it -- just a little longer."

He seemed to consider it for a moment, and her heart began to beat
faster. The fabric swirled about her legs.

"Would you have sex with the sales girl?"

She stepped back a pace, her eyes widening.

"You're asking me to have sex with her in exchange for wearing this
gown?" He nodded, his lips set in a serious smile. "You're giving
me a choice? Why?" He shrugged. "You could make me do it anyway."

"But I'm not. If you want to wear the dress, for a while, you have
to have sex with the sales girl." He leaned back in the chair. "If
not, then take off the dress. Simple."

"Why? What do you expect me to say?" Her hand trembled above her
breasts. Her eyes narrowed. "Are you going to hurt her?"

He shrugged easily. "It might be necessary to make her strip so you
can play with her."

Monique paled, glancing at the sales girl standing blissfully
unaware of the conversation transpiring about her. She swallowed,
glancing back at the Timeman. She'd done it before, just an hour
ago, with Melanie, in fact. It was just skin.

(Just skin.)

But the girl. The girl. How could she justify it to the girl.

Monique clenched the gown tighter around her body for a moment, as
if savouring it's touch against her skin. A single tear traced down
her face.

"I really have a choice?"

He nodded. The others hadn't been by choice. She'd been naked, and
tied. There was a reason beyond her own comfort to offer herself for
the blonde. He'd forced her with the younger associates way back in
an office nearly forgotten. She trembled, but released the gown. It
hung on her for a moment, as if it were reluctant to leave her skin.
But in the end, gravity won, and it slipped down her body to lie
crumpled at the floor.

She was naked again.

She bent and gathered up the black fabric, and draped it over her
arm. She took the other one, too, and wandered over to the cash desk
to find something to wrap them in.

The sales girl stood silently leaning bored against the counter, as
Monique stared at her pretty face. A tear traced down Monique's
face.

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

The boxes lay at her right thigh as she knelt in the corridor
outside the store. Mostly women shoppers surrounded her; had they
been unfrozen, they would have been astounded at the former lawyer
naked and weeping and begging amongst them.

"Please. Please. Please. I'll take them off before we get back. I
swear it."

He looked down at her.

"I'll do whatever you want. I'll have sex with you. I'll do
whatever you want. I'll crawl for you." She didn't know if she would
go that far, not willingly, not for mere clothing, but after the
gowns had slipped into the boxes, hidden from her view, the memory
of the kiss of the fabric against her skin flooded through her like
a tidal wave. Perhaps it was hormones, perhaps it was simply
tiredness with this game of cat and mouse, where she was doomed to
be the naked, caged, mouse, for eternity. "Please let me wear
something. Just for a little bit?"

"I let you wear something, in the store, Monique."

Tears traced down her cheeks. She stopped herself from crawling
across the floor to kneel at his feet. But only by a slim margin.

"I'll do whatever you want."

He looked thoughtful. Then he smiled.

"We've been through this. You could fuck the sales girl, for me."
Monique paled. "You could whip Kate when we get back. Have sex with
Leigh. Then I'd let you dress -- for five minutes. No more."

Monique swallowed, crying harder. She nearly agreed. She had nearly
agreed. Instead, she slowly shook her head, and gathered up the
boxes, cradling the clothing that she'd never be allowed to wear in
her arms.

When she looked up, she wiped the tears from her cheeks.

"You are a bastard. You know that? I'm human, just like you."

He smiled a little, but then turned away from her. She regretted
begging already -- so regretted it. But what else did she have? At
the moment, not even her self-respect.

Still naked, she had to run to catch up to him.


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