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Message-ID: <43779asstr$1060204204@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Crimson Dragon <dcrimsonp@nym.alias.net>
Subject: {ASSM} (New) Dawn of Time [138/157] (MF+, bond, control) {Crimson Dragon}
Date: Wed,  6 Aug 2003 17:10:04 -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 138

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(C) Copyright 2002 - All Rights Reserved

Crimson Dragon (dcrimson@yahoo.com)

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

Dawn stood on watery legs; the square had become the pentagon, Kate
now kneeling in her place. More than ever, she believed that she'd
been drawn into some black magic ceremony that demanded pain, rather
than outright sacrifice to achieve its goal. Perhaps, there wasn't
much difference between pain and sacrifice.

Her breasts felt like they'd been dipped in acid, and then flayed in
some bizarre medieval torture room. She lowered her eyes, and raised
her hands to trace their hot curves. She didn't want to look, was
afraid to look. This was the first after she'd risen shakily from
Kate's lap that she'd even dared to look at herself. To her
surprise, her breasts stood proudly upon her chest, the only
evidence of his play, two thin red welts that would probably fade in
an hour or so. Had such small marks driven that much pain into her?
She suspected that there as more to it -- perhaps, time control
intensified her reaction to the crop.

She shivered, knowing that it was much more than the physical pain.
Her situation, her lack of understanding, her confusion, her molten
sexuality and her fear all bonded together with the crop to drive
her most of the way to insanity while she'd been tied to that
pillar.

One more room to escape.

She swallowed and lowered her hands to brush at her side.

"You can't be serious," Kate said slowly. Her eyes were fixed on the
Timeman. "Wasn't whipping the two of us enough?"

"This won't hurt her."

"Then why don't you take off your clothes and jerk off, if it's so
fucking normal."

He sighed, and turned his eyes to Kate. She shied back on her heels,
for a moment, then shook herself.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. She wasn't apologising for suggesting that
he take Dawn's place -- in that she was serious, if not hopeful.
Rather she was apologising for cursing.

"It won't hurt her," he repeated, obviously content to let the
swearing slide with Kate's apology.

"Everything is simple for you, isn't it?"

"It's the beginning of the end," he said, as if that made all the
difference in their tiny universe.

"You're asking her to jill off in front of everyone. She's new -- it
doesn't matter what she's seen, or done, before she was here. It's
too much."

Dawn glanced at Kate. The girl's face was reddening, but Dawn
couldn't tell if it was the conversation, or her own situation
rising up and kicking at her again. And 'jill off'? Dawn hadn't
ever heard the term before, but she certainly knew what it meant.
She swallowed heavily.

"Crystal survived the experience."

"Crystal was never going to be here for any length of time. Dawn
is. You can't do this to her."

He raised his eyebrows, and smiled.

"Would you care to join her?"

Kate paled. "I'd take her place. Gladly. It's not like I have a damn
choice. She's just been whipped on the breasts, for the love of
God."

He smiled.

"So were you."

Dawn slowly slipped to her knees, unnoticed. Dawn turned towards the
corner of the pentagon where Kate knelt, where she shook in anger
and concern. Dawn swallowed.

"Kate. I need to do this. I don't understand why, but I do."

"You don't. You could run."

Dawn smiled. "Would you?"

Kate hesitated, and then shook her head. Dawn nodded in
understanding.

"I don't know if I can do it, but he's right. At least it won't
hurt."

Kate sighed, and nodded. She ceased her objections, but not before
throwing a withering glance at the Timeman. Dawn wouldn't have
wanted to be on the receiving end of that glance, but the Timeman
merely laughed.

Dawn sighed, and tried to steady her nerves. She doubted if she
could do it, even if her body desperately wanted it. Not in front
of everyone. Not like this.

She swallowed heavily, and closed her eyes.

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

She didn't know it, but she automatically adopted the same pose as
Crystal had. Her breasts ached as they pressed into the cool marble
where a million pairs of shoes had passed. Her cheek pressed into
the floor, and she raised her hips slightly, only enough to allow
the fingers of her right hand to slip below, and touch.

(Oh, God. Oh, God.)

Her vagina screamed, her altered hormones, her whipping, and the
naked girls nestled around her driving into her mind like a
super-fuelled fantasy. She could sense them, their arousal, from
watching her, from their own enforced nudity, their helplessness.
She was Dawn, then five naked girls, watching, ever watching, then
Dawn again.

Her fingers worked, caressing, like a lover, finding her familiar
rhythm, stroking, discovering the wetness between her legs like a
flood.

A groan reached her ears, and she dimly recognised her own husky
tones in the sound.

Still her fingers slipped through her, driving her desperately
towards the edge. The rest of them, the naked girls, the Timeman,
all receded. The fire in her breasts intensified, and she felt the
edge of the chasm approaching like a locomotive.

(No. No. NO. NO. NO. Please, no.)

She opened her eyes. Leigh knelt, watching her. Fascinated. Her
face held an expression of sexual abandonment, and envy, every fibre
of Leigh's being crying out to switch places, to be allowed to find
peace, her hormones denied even longer than Dawn's.

(No. No. No. Yes. No.)

She tore her gaze from Leigh, a glimmer touching the last remaining
vestige of humanity left in her howling mind. She was so close. So
unbelievably close.

Her fingers shifted rhythms, and she moaned. The moan would be
mistaken by all of her audience for something else, but to her, it
was a moan of denial. Her fingers slipped into a slower rhythm,
something that teased, but would never satisfy. She couldn't believe
that she was going to do it, when he'd given her this. It was a
gift, she knew. But accepting it, seemed ... wrong.

If she truly climaxed, she would be stronger, more clear-headed.
She was not being denied basic drives, unlike the other girls. All
she needed to do was speed up that finger, like that, stroke
herself, once more.

She stopped her finger, before it pushed her over the edge, her moan
rising in a parody of sexual ecstasy. She'd heard similar moans from
the girls on the pornographic tapes that she sometimes watched with
John. For the first time, she understood what the girls on those
tapes might actually be feeling.

Desperately, she turned her thoughts to John, feeling the excitement
recede. It didn't disappear, but his image, the man that would have
raped her, pushed the sexual abandonment back. It wasn't much, but
it would have to be enough.

Like other girls that she'd bantered with, locker room trash talk,
she'd faked more than a few orgasms. It kept her lovers happy; no
victim, no crime. She'd never been caught, that she knew of, and
she'd climaxed enough to know what she sounded like at the pinnacle.
Even John had been the recipient of more than one of the porn girls
moans.

Would the Timeman know? Could he read her mind, touch her senses,
jump into her? She didn't think he could, that she would sense his
presence in the recesses of her mind.

Her finger twitched, waiting impatiently to push her onwards, to
give her the gift of release.

(No. I don't want it. Not this way.)

She closed her eyes, and allowed her mouth to open.

"Ahhhhhh."

Her voice filled the corridor. She doubted if she had fooled the
girls, felt it within them somehow. Actually tasted Kate's
disappointment -- Kate had wanted her to dive over the edge, if only
because she couldn't, and she desperately wanted to.

(I'm sorry Kate. Not like this.)

Her voice spiralled down, and she forced her hand from her lips. The
moan of disappointed dreams and unfair frustration wasn't faked.

She heard him clapping quietly, and though it made her blush, she'd
proved she still retained some control.

She sighed. It was something.

Her body ached. God, it ached. She was certain that she'd regret
that she hadn't accepted the gift, but for now, it was the right
thing to do.

She rolled over to her back, her bare breasts heaving, completing
the image of a girl satiated, even when she was anything but. She
smiled at the ceiling high above, and sighed.

She'd escaped one more room.


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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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