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From: Crimson Dragon <dcrimsonp@nym.alias.net>
Subject: {ASSM} (New) Dawn of Time [126/157] (MF+, bond, control) {Crimson Dragon}
Date: Mon, 21 Jul 2003 23:10:06 -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 126

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(C) Copyright 2002 - All Rights Reserved

Crimson Dragon (dcrimson@yahoo.com)

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In each passing moment, Kate's arms protested more and more loudly.
She shifted, and tried rolling her shoulders, but the steady ache in
her upper arms, and the numbness invading her hands rose in a
constant clamour of discomfort bordering on pain. Perhaps the
Timeman wasn't aware of what he had wrought upon her, and likely the
rest of the girls in the small train, but Kate suspected that even
had he known, it would either have made him aroused, or he simply
wouldn't have cared. They were tied like this for a reason, even if
it was a reason that would make no sense to her, or anyone else but
the Timeman, himself.

With a groan, she dodged around a Ford pickup, a small stone
catching the ball of her right foot. She stumbled, and cried out,
but the stone worked loose, and as far as she could tell, hadn't
broken the tender skin of her feet. The asphalt was beginning to
feel like sandpaper beneath her bare feet, and her throat was dry.
The noon sun beat down on her exposed skin, evaporating any hope at
coolness from her mild perspiration. Her breathing had steadily
increased in tempo until it matched the beating of her heart,
struggling to keep ahead of the fairly quick pace set by the
Timeman.

In the Ford, a man bearing the typical look of an urban blue collar
worker -- a soup strainer moustache, and a cocked, and dirty
baseball cap topping blue overalls, sat frozen, staring out at them
as they passed quietly, only the patter of bare feet and the rasp of
inhalation marking their passage.

Earlier, they had passed a red bus, stopped for passengers, a pretty
blonde girl about to board. Kate had dodged around countless cars,
and even pedestrians when they had been forced to move from the road
to the sidewalk for a while. But mostly, she followed the dashed
yellow markings flowing by between her bare feet, marking off
distance wordlessly as she led the other girls towards their unknown
destination.

She wanted to ask the man leading her where they were going -- how
much further she would have to endure the touch of asphalt, and the
ache in her arms -- but she didn't dare. Besides, she had a feeling
that she might need to conserve her breath; asking useless questions
would use energy, energy she might need later. The pace continued,
gruelling and quick. Mindlessly, she placed one bare foot in front
of the other until she nearly bumped into him.

Surprised, she looked up. The Timeman had halted between a purple
mini-van, and a biker perched on a red and silver Honda motorcycle.
The Timeman glanced almost nervously down the roadway, then ahead
before sighing. Kate's eyes were drawn to the leather clad biker,
shivering. Her immediate impulse was to cover herself, knowing that
if the man was alive, he would probably be drooling over the small
entourage of naked women stopped and nervous beside his bike. She
felt exposed, and anxious, until the Timeman grunted and tugged her
towards the side of the road. Slowly, her breathing was returning to
normal, her lungs drawing in cool air, and settling her heart.

He stopped again, and dropped the end of the rope. It fell to dangle
from Kate's throat, between her breasts to tickle the tops of her
thighs. The girls remained wary, shifting their weight uncomfortably
where he'd left them. Monique's eyes shone with tears, and the
former lawyer pulled nearly constantly at her bound arms. But she
didn't complain, and lowered her eyes as Kate tried to make contact,
hoping that her eyes conveyed a sense of shared misery.

The Timeman seemed agitated, and he nearly danced upon the concrete,
his shoes shuffling as he turned slowly, his eyes upon the myriad of
humanity, cars and pedestrians lining the thoroughfare upon which
they walked.

Kate cleared her throat, and he looked up at her sharply, as if she
should know not to disturb him. She didn't want to disturb him, knew
what the consequences might be of that, but she gathered her courage
and spoke almost in a whisper.

"Please, sir?"

He ceased his scanning and regarded her with almost an expression of
exasperation. Her arms screamed, and her feet ached. She might be
able to deal with one of them, if he allowed it. She glanced around
too, suddenly sure that someone was watching her. Her skin crawled,
but then the sensation eased after a second.

"Please. We need to rest. I know you won't untie us, but my feet
hurt. Can we rest -- just for a moment -- in the grass? Please?"

She hated the pathetic whine that had entered her voice, but he
didn't seem to notice. He waved them over.

"Just keep quiet. Understand?"

Kate gratefully nodded. Since she was nominally in the lead, the
rope still connecting the girls to one another, she stepped off the
sidewalk and into the coarse grass near the boulevard. The grass was
not nearly as fine and well maintained as the lawn of the mansion,
but it still felt like a piece of heaven as her bare feet sank from
the harshness of the concrete into the softness of the green. Kate
sighed, and after ensuring that all the girls had stepped from the
concrete, she lowered herself slowly to the ground, first to her
knees, then to a sitting position. The shortness of the leads forced
Leigh to bend and follow, then the others, all in turn. Kate didn't
think the others would mind, and each wore an expression of relief
as they settled.

Kate stretched out her legs, the grass and clover tickling her bare
thighs and calves. A soft sigh rose unbidden to her lips. She wanted
to lean back on her arms, but even the thought of that made her ache
for the use of her hands, if only for a moment. But while he'd
allowed them to rest, she knew somehow that asking to be released
even for five minutes wasn't going to fly.

She glanced up. The Timeman had moved into the middle of the roadway
again, and was scanning. She has no idea for what he was looking,
but he seemed intent. Then he was gone, she could see his bobbing
head between vehicles as he moved back the way they had come.

A Toyota, similar to the one she had driven earlier to get to the
Westin and the mansion, sat frozen in front of the boulevard. A girl
of perhaps ten watched bored out the back window, her eyes blank and
unseeing.

Kate sighed again.

(What the hell. He's gone for now, and the girls won't care.)

She shifted, and though her face caught a small blush as she moved,
she folded her legs into a cross-legged position. She was very
aware of herself gaping open and exposed, but the position felt
wonderful. She wasn't walking, and she wasn't worrying. Not now. If
he wanted her to act like a fucking lady, then he shouldn't have
tied her up like an animal.

He returned after five minutes, flushed and breathing hard. Kate
wondered idly where he'd run, and how far. But the answers weren't
offered, and she knew better than to ask. He almost seemed angry --
not with the girls, they had followed his instructions to the
letter, not talking, not even crying as they rested in the
heaven-sent grass.

"On your feet," he said. If he noticed that most of them were
careless about their modesty, he didn't show it. His eyes remained
on Kate's face.

She swallowed, knowing that she couldn't rise without help. Not with
her arms like this. Nevertheless, she rocked forward, and tried to
get her feet under her. It failed, and he seemed to come to his
senses without her having to ask for help. One by one, he pulled
them up, almost roughly, and set them all in a row, as they'd been
before.

Monique braved it. As he helped her up, she asked, her voice almost
breaking.

"Please, it hurts. You have no idea how much it hurts."

He stared at her, his face a mask of apathy. He honestly didn't care
if she was suffering. Kate knew this with certainty. As long as they
weren't dying, he had more important fish to fry. And them being
uncomfortable, for some reason, was a part of that particular cruel
plan. Either her suffering was important to whatever twisted plan
he had concocted for them, or he simply had other, more important,
things on his mind.

"Please, at least let us walk in the grass? Please?" Monique almost
begged, but her voice only broke on the last word. It was such a
simple request.

Instead of answering the former lawyer, he stepped back, and sighed.
When he finally spoke, he growled.

"You'll walk where I tell you to." He paused, regarding Monique's
face, her disappointment falling as a steady stream of tears. Kate
felt like crying, too, but she managed to will it back.

(It will be over soon. It will be over soon. Please let it
 be over soon.)

Her arms wholeheartedly agreed. Kate shivered. Somehow, she knew
that her arms would be the least of her concerns. Whatever else was
coming, this was only the beginning.

"Please? Damn you. We've done everything ..."

He touched Monique's face, and the naked woman ceased talking. He
leaned towards her, no sympathy evident on his face. Kate hadn't
seen that particular expression on his face since he'd played with
Karen, taping cigarettes to her nipples. His gaze frightened Kate,
and evidently Monique. She whimpered, and turned her eyes away.

"Would you like to be gagged, too?" he asked simply. "And if I have
to gag you, the whole lot of you will find yourselves silenced. I
don't want to, but I need you all to be quiet. Understand?"

Kate shivered. Her jaw hadn't forgotten the taste of the ball,
stretching her mouth wide, robbing her of the most basic
communication. Please, no.

Monique was afraid to even agree verbally. Tears washed quietly down
her cheeks, a flush of anger or embarrassment flooding her face.
Slowly, she nodded. Yes, she understood. Her acquiescence perhaps
saving the rest more discomfort for a while at least.

He nodded slowly, and turned from her. Kate thought Monique would
collapse as he dismissed her, but somehow, Monique stayed on her
feet. Monique's toes dug into the grass, either in an effort at
balance or an effort to remember the sweetness of the soft against
her skin. If she'd fallen, Kate wasn't sure what the Timeman would
have done, but thinking about it only sent shivers down her spine.
Monique, while understandably unnerved, seemed capable of movement.

The Timeman glanced back up the street, and Kate felt unseen eyes
again brush over her. She stepped back as the Timeman reached for
the leash, minimising the contact of his fingers against her belly.
He flashed a quick smile at her, which had more of an effect of
furthering her unease, and then the tug transmitted to her throat.

Kate stumbled forward, her eyes stinging, but not tearing, yet. She
winced as her feet moved from the softer grass to the harshness of
the pavement. Slowly, the other girls followed, Nicole moaning as
she stepped last onto the asphalt.

They moved out into the middle of the street again, the yellow
dashes seeming to fade into infinity. Kate began to walk again,
trying to ignore the ache settling into her arms. She could barely
feel her fingers, and hoped fervently that the ropes weren't
permanently damaging her hands. Her fingers still moved, though, and
she didn't even bother stretching to see if she could reach any
knots. She couldn't.

Kate grit her teeth, and followed the Timeman, the yellow marking
off the paces. Her arms screamed, and her feet complained, but she
felt they were nearing whatever destination. They had to be.

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

It wasn't the same mall that Monique had visited with the Timeman --
this one was an imposing double story structure with vast parking
lots and more expensive stores buried within. There was a theatre
here, along with one of those overbearing book stores, a couple of
anchor department stores, and various boutiques. Kate looked up as
the texture of the pavement shifted, cars parked in neat rows rather
than in haphazard confusion in the middle of major city arteries.

Tall panes of reflective windows greeted the small caravan, as the
girls plodded wearily between Jettas and Civics and Corollas. Kate
wanted to ask him what they were doing here, but her breathing had
fallen into a ragged rhythm, rasping in and out of her chest. It
seemed like too much effort to request information that she knew
that he would not provide to her. She was here, and that was enough.
She could only hope that he might release them for a while, let them
rest.

By dead reckoning, it felt like she'd been walking for hours, but
perhaps it had been the equivalent of an hour at most. She shivered,
her thighs aching now more than her feet. Her arms had fallen numb
some time ago, and the absence of pain there both relieved and
frightened her.

He held the door for them, a testament to their helplessness. In
some ways, it almost seemed chivalrous, but in others, she wished
that she'd been able to open and hold the door for herself.

He picked back up the leash as Nicole passed the doorway, leading
them into the interior of the mall, harsh asphalt shifting to cool,
smooth marble under bare feet.

She had no idea where they were going, but she felt it strongly. It
would be here. Somewhere.


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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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