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From: Crimson Dragon <dcrimsonp@nym.alias.net>
Subject: {ASSM} (New) Dawn of Time [110/157] (MF+, bond, control) {Crimson Dragon}
Date: Fri, 27 Jun 2003 20:10:04 -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 110

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

(C) Copyright 2002 - All Rights Reserved

Crimson Dragon (dcrimson@yahoo.com)

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

"Going to tease me some more?" Monique asked bitterly.

He didn't answer her, but led her into a designer shop catering to
teenage girls. Normally loud bass music would be pounding from
hidden speakers, enticing the mindless crowds of fashion females to
part with Daddy's cash for overly tight jeans, and loose blouses.
Her thoughts turned to Melanie for a moment, then retreated as he
picked through a rack of Levis.

"What size is your waist," he asked.

Sullenly, she told him, and he extracted a pair of white jeans from
the rack. The jeans tapered -- not a style she would normally pick
for herself. He gently took the boxes from her and placed them on a
shelf, on top of some purple sweaters. He held out the jeans for
her.

She reached out and draped them over her arm, like she had the
gowns. Silently, he turned from her and wandered towards the back of
the store. She waited, not following. It didn't appear that he
expected it. She followed him with her eyes, shifting her weight
from bare foot to bare foot.

When he returned, he held up a purple silk blouse, that actually
would go with the jeans.

"Aren't you going to put them on?" he said mildly. He settled into
another of the boyfriend courtesy chairs in front of her.

She slowly shook her head. "You can make me, I suppose, but I don't
want to do it. I can't."

"Can't do what?"

"Put them on only to have you take them away."

"What if I didn't take them away until we left the mall."

She swallowed heavily. "Don't tease me. Please. It's not fair. I
don't want it badly enough. I won't have sex for the privilege of
wearing some cloth on my body. I won't hurt anyone else. Please
don't do this."

"I can make you put them on."

"I know. Please, I don't want to do it."

"Monique," he said more gently. "If you don't want to put them on, I
won't make you. I appreciate that you helped me with the gowns. I
know I could have forced the issue, forced you to be a mannequin.
All it would have taken was a pair of handcuffs, and a crop. Call it
a gift of appreciation. Until we reach the parking lot."

"You're going to let me wear clothes?" A note of incredulity edged
into her voice.

"Well, jeans and blouse, yes. I'm afraid they don't seem to carry
panties, or bras, and I don't want you in socks or shoes."

"You're kidding. No strings?" She didn't care about underclothing,
or shoes. In fact, going barefoot wasn't all that bad for her, if he
didn't force her to walk on asphalt.

He nodded carefully. "But you don't have to dress if you don't
want."

She nearly ran to hug and kiss him, but she refrained, trying to
remind herself that he'd stripped her in the first place.

Her hands shook as she drew the jeans up her legs. The fabric felt
more like satin than denim to her. She sighed as she straightened.
She tugged at the waistband of the pants. They were snug but not
overly so. Simply more snug than she was used to.

"Take them off," he said.

She whirled, her eyes flashing anger. "Please, no. I can't believe I
fell for that. Please."

"Relax. They aren't tight enough. I'm just going to get you another
pair."

"Please. They fit." She raised her arms, not caring that she was
still topless, and pirouetted for him. "See?"

"Take them off, Monique."

Tears fell from her eyes, but she willed her fingers to push the
denim from her hips and down her legs. She left the jeans crumpled
on the floor and waited for him to bring her another pair. When he
did, she looked skeptically at the tag. The waist was smaller than
the previous pair, might be too tight for her to button. But they
were covering, and even if they squeezed her in uncomfortable
places, she would try. She tugged them over her hips, and to her
surprise, the clasp engaged. She pulled in her tummy, and yanked up
the zipper.

In her former life, she would never have dared to wear jeans this
tight, but she was unreasonably grateful for the covering now. Her
thighs felt like they were encased in a second skin, and they
touched her intimately in places to make her blush. She didn't care.

Somehow, she knew that the second pair of jeans would be
satisfactory to him, and she slipped the blouse over her shoulders.

"Only two buttons, Monique."

She didn't care. The fabric felt like heaven to her bare skin. She
buttoned the two buttons between her breasts, the remainder of the
blouse fluttering as she moved. The looseness of the blouse
contrasted wonderfully with the tightness of the jeans.

He stood, and she picked up the boxes with the gowns within.

It felt odd walking barefoot through the mall, but so much better
than naked. She sighed as he took her hand and guided her back
towards the fountain.

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

The sounds of the fountain tumbled through the otherwise silent air.
Monique glanced at the sparkling water, and the coins within. She
shook her head once, thinking about what she had probably looked
like, sitting naked amongst the fountains like a decorative, but
alive, statue.

She shook her head, as she nearly collided with her captor.

"Oof," she breathed, but managed to get her hands in front of her
enough so that she didn't knock him over. "What?" she asked
quietly.

She followed his gaze, and swallowed heavily.

"You can't be serious. Haven't you had enough for one day? What do
you want with her? Please, can't we just go home?"

He laughed, and turned towards Monique.

"It's never enough ..."

Monique sighed and closed her eyes. "It's never enough until your
heart stops beating?"

He nodded with a vague smile, seemingly surprised that Monique had
recognised the reference.

"She's a new mother, even you can see that. Why torture her?"

"Who said anything about torture?"

"Call it a precedent."

"Always a lawyer."

Monique flushed; it had been days since she had thought of herself
as a successful lawyer. Her struggle to survive, and remain with a
shred of her sanity, had pushed her former infatuation with her
career onto the back burners of her mind. Understandably, she
thought. How we change when we have to. She cleared her throat.

"What do you want from her?"

He smiled and shrugged. "I want to see her in the fountain."

"I've already done that trick for you. Remember. Cold water?
Goosebumps?"

He smiled again. "I want to see her in there instead."

"Why?"

"Control."

Monique hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "Is this your way of
making me offer to take her place? It's not fair. If you want me to
wade for you in the middle of this stupid mall, I will. You don't
need to play these games."

He looked surprised, as if he didn't realise that he was being
transparent. Or perhaps, he hadn't considered that Monique would
offer herself in place of the young mother.

"You'd change places with her?"

"You know that I would. Stop it."

She reached from the buttons on the blouse, the first one coming
free before he stopped her.

"No, Monique. With your clothes."

She sighed, but quickly rebuttoned the blouse between her breasts.
She stepped over towards the fountain.

She shivered, thinking about the coldness of that water, and the
clammy feeling that the tight jeans would have on her. She turned
towards him, her eyes pleading with him. His visage fell impassive
upon her. She searched for some hint of sympathy, or relent, but
there was none.

She sighed again, and turned. She reached over tentatively, touching
her still bare toes to the water. She recoiled, her foot screaming
to avoid this. Her mind pushed her forward again.

"Monique?"

The girl stopped, her toes only millimetres from the water.

"Those clothes are going to be a bitch to get you out of if you get
them wet."

Confused, Monique shrugged. "So, now you want me in there naked,
again?" Her fingers rose to the blouse again, toying with the upper
button.

He motioned her back. Puzzled, but thankful for the reprieve, she
retracted her leg, and then walked quickly back to him.

"What now?" she asked wearily.

"Silly girl. I just wanted to talk to the mother -- not hurt her --
not turn her into a sex slave."

"Then why do that to me?" Anger flashed for a moment in her eyes,
but she quelled it. Anger here would get her into the fountain
faster than any other approach. Despite her feelings of limited
freedom, and his apparent kindness in the last half hour, she didn't
want to push things.

"Because you offered, and I did want you in the fountain. You
looked -- nice in there."

Monique sighed. A naked, controlled lawyer.

"What are you going to do?"

"Exactly what I was going to do before you interrupted me." He
motioned her back a little. "Stand there." Monique obeyed, stepping
back and away from him and then settling into an awkward standing
pose.

He turned towards the young mother. She awakened, glancing around
the strangely quiet mall. A baby's cry emerged from the carriage,
taking her attention.

"Hello," he said pleasantly. Monique watched him carefully. She
could see the butt of the handgun tucked into his waistband, but he
hadn't had to use it since the bus. He made no move towards it now.

The woman looked up, her eyes narrowing slightly. She glanced at
Monique, and then her eyes lingered on Monique's bare feet and
overly tight jeans with an mild expression of distaste. The girl was
dressed as Monique used to -- expensive dress, and heels. Monique
flushed, but held her tongue. The woman was probably disoriented,
and certainly didn't know that she'd been forced to dress this way,
which was far better than the alternative. Monique shifted her
weight from foot to foot nervously.

"Can I help you?" the woman asked. Her hands disappeared into the
carriage, lifting out a newborn. Monique saw his eyes shift to the
little one.

"No," Monique whispered. The woman turned towards Monique, mystified
by the odd pair. The Timeman cast Monique a glance, having obviously
understood Monique's comment.

"Is it a little boy or a girl?" Monique asked. She stepped in front
of the Timeman. The woman glanced at her, dropping her eyes to
Monique's bare feet for a moment, sizing her up, trying to determine
if she was dangerous or not. Monique fervently wished for her dress
shoes, or even a pair of sneakers. But that wasn't about to happen
was it, and it was ironic that Monique was the one the girl was
worried about.

"A girl," the woman said. "Two weeks old."

"Only two weeks?"

The woman nodded, grasping the baby protectively to her chest. She
glanced nervously at the Timeman, as if some maternal sense had
triggered alarm. She looked like she was ready to flee.

"She'd look nice, naked in the fountain," the Timeman murmured.
Monique doubted if the girl had heard the comment, but she whirled
anyway.

"I would have stayed all night in there if you'd told me. She's only
been a mother for two damn weeks. You're a sick fuck. You know
that?"

He stood laughing. "And she'd do anything for the baby. Probably
even have sex with you."

Monique paled. "Please," she begged. "Do you want me to crawl for
you? Give you a blow job? Let you tie me up for hours? Let you whip
me?" She paused, catching her breath. "I don't want any of that, but
I'll do it. You know that. Leave her alone. Please."

When Monique glanced over her shoulder, the young mother was
watching, her eyes wide and nearly panicked. Her arms held the baby,
who now was crying.

"Please," she whispered. "Not my baby."

Monique swallowed and moved closer to the Timeman, her breathing
quickened. "Even you can't be that sick. Please take me, do
whatever your sick mind comes up with. I'll do it for you. Just
leave her alone."

He nodded slowly, and turned towards the new mother, and the baby.

"What's her name?"

"Morgan," the mother said, her voice wavering. "Please don't hurt my
baby. She's Morgan."

"I won't let you hurt her," Monique said firmly. "You had better
kill me, if you lay a hand on that baby."

He laughed, and then, ignoring Monique, turned back towards the
mother. "I wouldn't dream of it. Tell Morgan to have a wonderful
life."

The mother was crying now, her mewls mixing with Morgan's tearless
wails. She nodded, her feet beginning to back away from the Timeman,
and Monique.

"Let her go," Monique whispered. "Please. She's scared."

The girl cried out for a moment, and a last cry from Morgan filled
the air. Then only the sounds of the fountain splashing vibrated the
air. The woman again stood blissfully unaware of her ordeal, her
hand upon the handle of the carriage.

"Thank-you," Monique said quietly. "Do you want me to go swimming
now? Or not?" She took a deep breath and held it.

He slowly shook his head with a smile that reminded her of the
smiles of triumph that appeared in old gladiator movies. She didn't
know quite what had transpired here, or what she'd given up, but the
mother was free of time, and the baby slept on in her carriage,
unaware of the universe of time manipulation, and sexual slavery.

Monique shivered as she let the breath out of her lungs.

She began to walk again, her mind awhirl, towards the entrance where
they'd arrived seemingly an eternity ago. She had a feeling that
they'd be late for dinner.


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