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Message-ID: <43806asstr$1060391402@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Crimson Dragon <dcrimsonp@nym.alias.net>
Subject: {ASSM} (New) Dawn of Time [140/157] (MF+, bond, control) {Crimson Dragon}
Date: Fri,  8 Aug 2003 21:10:02 -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 140

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(C) Copyright 2002 - All Rights Reserved

Crimson Dragon (dcrimson@yahoo.com)

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

Their bare feet pattered on the planks that made up the staircase.
Dawn stood shivering at the top of the stairs, watching as Leigh's
legs flashed and disappeared as she stepped steadily downwards into
the gloom.

He stood behind Dawn, his fingers tickling her wrists as he removed
her handcuffs.

"Shit," Leigh murmured from somewhere down below, her voice rising
from the darkness like a ghost.

"What's the matter?" he called, his voice startling Dawn. She
pulled her own bare foot back from the first stair.

"It's dark down here, and I think I got a sliver in my foot," Leigh
said, her voice disembodied. Dawn couldn't hear the naked girl on
the stairs any longer. She'd reached whatever awaited them in the
darkness.

Dawn stepped down, two steps, her hands stretched out to the side,
seeking guidance. Her right hand touched damp cinder block, her left
waved through empty air. She supposed that the staircase led to a
wine cellar. She could smell loamy earth, and the sweeter odour of
yeast and alcohol. The planks under her feet were rough hewn,
prickling at her skin. They creaked as she moved, like an old
haunted mansion. Spiders, and vile insects inhabited Dawn's
imagination, all crawling towards her unprotected skin. She
shivered, though the space wasn't cold. It reminded her of a grave.
At least her hands were free.

Near what she judged to be the middle of the staircase, she turned
to face the single opening above her, light streaming down,
swallowed by the inky blackness where she could hear Leigh and Kate
talking in hushed tones.

The Timeman stood, hands braced against the doorframe, peering down
as she picked her way in descent.

"When will you be back for us?"

"Soon," he said.

With a sigh, she turned and followed the stairs until soft, packed
earth kissed her feet. She withdrew to stand on the last stair.
Above, she heard the door softly close, and then the unmistakable
sound of a click -- a lock, one to which she'd never have a key,
sliding home. The light narrowed as the door shut, until nothing but
blackness stretched out for infinity before her.

Her heart raced, banging against her ribs.

"Leigh? Kate?" she called.

"Over here," Leigh said, close on Dawn's left.

Dawn swallowed, and stepped down again to the dirt floor, hands
extended until she touched warm, soft, bare skin.

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

"What did you do with them?"

He laughed. "Jumpy?"

Monique shifted herself upon the sofa, her ankle chain jingling
softly. She peered at him, her book forgotten beside her left thigh.
Nicole watched almost casually over her shoulder, and Andrea
pretended to read a paperback, but he was sure that she was more
interested in the conversation.

"Ever since Dawn showed up, you've been jumpy," Monique said
quietly.

He shrugged, and then left them again. He sighed, and paced into the
kitchen drawing a glass of water. Even the water tasted more
fresh and clean, here. He didn't know if it was the timeline, or
simply the Mansion that provided the clarity in the water. He
fancied he could hear the girls crying out in the wine cellar, but
it was purely fantasy. They weren't screaming -- the girls were far
too intelligent for that -- what would be the point?

He set the glass back down onto the counter, and paced upstairs, his
feet heavy on the staircase. He glanced into the bathroom, expecting
one of the girls to be there, naked and wet, but of course, he knew
where all the girls were. Safe, for now.

He continued down the hallway, past the master bedroom, where Nicole
had recovered. He hesitated at her bedroom door, in some ways
wanting to go in and in others not wanting to see what lay within.
He was being silly, but when he pushed open the door with a creak,
he found it difficult to push his feet back into motion.

With a shake of his head, he stepped over the threshold, and glanced
around the room. It hadn't changed from the time when he had left it
last, after talking to the animal that remained here, letting him
know, even as he knew the man would never remember, what would be
his fate. He shrugged, then shivered as his eyes were drawn to
Maurice.

Maurice stood, frozen and sightlessly staring forward, his hand
drawing down his zipper, about to offer his penis to the girl that
no longer knelt there.

He closed his eyes. Oh, but she would. Too soon.

He turned, his eyes still closed, until he felt that he was safe.
When he opened his eyes, he was faced towards Nicole's spartan
single bed, where she slept, when the animal allowed it. He paced
over to where she slept, feeling like a burglar.

He would have asked Nicole to come here, but he couldn't send her in
here again -- not with Maurice standing there still, his hand where
she would be, far too soon.

He knelt and pulled open her dresser drawer. In the first one, he
sighed. Nipple clamps. A vibrator that looked far too large for her
small frame. Handcuffs. Ropes. And something that even he couldn't
identify, but looked like it might be meant to clamp a clitoris. He
shivered, and pushed the items aside. Underneath, a pair of pink
panties shone. Upon closer inspection, he discovered that they
lacked a crotch, and suddenly his surprise melted. They weren't
hers, at least not in a classic sense.

He shut the drawer with a bang, and pulled out the next one. Girl's
clothing, mostly leather and chains adorned the bottom of the
drawer. He sighed. Perhaps, this search was useless. Nicole wouldn't
be allowed personal items.

He nearly rose, but then returned and opened the last drawer. It
slid out, as though it were greased. Inside, magazines lay, some
bondage, some simple sex magazines, Penthouse, Playboy, Gent. He
lifted them, ignoring the gaping women adorning them, only mildly
glancing at the cover of the bondage magazine featuring a nurse tied
to a hospital bed.

Underneath the magazines, hidden, lay the object for which he'd been
looking. A vision, not as clear as Dawn's, but passable, showed her
lying in her bed, crying, clutching the object to her bare breasts,
a talisman of childhood. He smiled, and hooked his finger under the
rim, pulling it from the base of the drawer.

A teddy bear, Maurice would have torn the stuffing from, a favourite
doll, hung by her porcelain neck from the ceiling, perhaps
disfigured, and dismembered for good measure. No, this object
screamed out the simple pleasures of childhood, comforting and
reminiscent. And Maurice would never suspect it.

The Frisbee was worn, white, and had an unreadable corporate logo
imprinted on it. Her name, inscribed in childish script in black
marker, "Nicole", and her phone number, was written on the
underside. He twirled it on his finger as he passed Maurice. He was
tempted to wake the animal, if only to tell him one thing. Instead,
he opted to merely pause at the door, gazing into the room. He
stopped whirling the Frisbee, holding it out towards the animal.

"She beat you, and you didn't even know it," he whispered.

Then he stepped out, and pulled the door shut with a conclusive
click.

Smiling, he walked back down to the living room.

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

He sat with his back against the elm tree, half-watching the girls
as they played, and half watching the dragon in the sky.

Nicole stood in one corner of a triangle, smiling. She lightly held
her injured side, breathing hard. Andrea and Monique completed the
triangle in the grass. The Frisbee sailed unerringly between the
girls, each reaching, and sometimes diving to catch the simple toy
as it reflected the sunlight.

He sighed and closed his eyes, listening to them yell and toss. A
squirrel, annoyed, chittered at the girls as they romped through its
lawn. For a while, he thought, the girls had forgotten chains, and
nudity, and pain, and fright, and were simply girls again -- a time
that was safe, and peaceful, tossing a Frisbee across an expanse of
lawn.

It had to end -- this was the beginning of the end.

If he were truthful to himself, it was beyond the beginning,
somewhere in the midrange of the endgame. Ever since Dawn had
stepped from the escalator, the end was hurtling towards him like a
frieght train. The girls, some of them, would be happy, he supposed.

He looked around at his universe.

The blackouts hadn't been a problem this time, the simulations at
least being accurate in that. It was deliciously ironic. He'd
planned everything down the last molecule, adjusting parameters,
adjusting equations, adjusting occult. And a girl nearly gets raped,
and poof, the universe continued to laugh at him.

He could continue. The girl was under his control -- locked in a
windowless cellar, naked and probably frightened. He could sense
Kate and Leigh there with her, close, but not her. There was a vague
feeling of absence where she was, but nothing concrete. So he could
continue.

But the dangers? Morally, he couldn't continue -- not with Dawn here
and understanding and remembering. The fine line between worlds was
blurring. Dawn represented consequence. The fundamental difference
between fantasy and reality. Impossible, now, to deny it. Doing
this, with the girls, wasn't an option any longer, was it? It was
the beginning of the end.

The universe wasn't like a light switch anymore, hadn't been since
the beginning. He could control local points, prevent all but Dawn
from escaping through time control, but what of Dawn? Somehow, she'd
been incorporated into the time fabric. He didn't understand, but
she was better attuned to the time universe, could sense that fourth
dimension, could see. He was certain of that, as much as he was
certain that he couldn't.

Worse, he was sure that the universe had swallowed them both,
pushing reality into the depths of both their minds. She was like a
sister, or a lover, without the intimacy, but with all the
closeness. They were joined. What one created, the other had to
destroy. And she didn't even know it.

He sighed.

He'd tickled the equations in his mind, many, many times. The
universe unfolded around him, but his control, only an illusion. If
one couldn't re-start the universe, what hold did he truly hold.

He closed his eyes again, seeing her sitting across from him in the
grass, quietly accepting his control of her, but not. She sat, her
bare legs extended, her hands trapped behind her. The irony, she had
more control that he did. She was stronger. Weak, she thought, but
he knew better.

He could sense her in the darkness, she was talking, but he didn't
know about what.

Monique laughed, her voice carrying like a child's. He glanced up as
she pushed herself up off the ground, brushing blades of grass from
her bare breasts unselfconsciously.

"Nice throw," Andrea called as she jumped up, arms extended, unaware
of the beautiful lines her body made as she did.

Nicole laughed helplessly, even as the pain of her chest complained
across her fair, if marred, features.

It was the beginning of the end.

He was going to miss this place, perhaps even more than he'd missed
Christi and Jane and the others from another place and another time
out of time.

He swallowed, and glanced up at the sky. In front of the dragon, a
puff of cloud sat. It looked like a girl, her legs crossed in front
of her, a hint of a breast. He narrowed his eyes for a moment, and
sighed. The dragon seemed to be chasing the girl, closing in for the
kill.

The Frisbee landed near his right foot, bouncing to rest against his
running shoe. He looked at it for a moment, Nicole's childhood toy,
giving her comfort at night when she could, taking the place of a
child's stuffed teddy bear.

He glanced up as he picked up the disc. The girls watched him
warily, Monique fidgeting with her fingers. He smiled, and flicked
his wrist. It flew straight and true. Nicole reached out with her
right hand, her left pressed into her injured ribs. Her fingers
closed on the spinning object, and she smiled.

Timidly, she called out.

"Do you want to play with us?"

He smiled and shook his head. Almost disappointed, she turned, and
tossed the Frisbee towards Andrea. Monique stopped her fidgeting and
with a puzzled glance at him, turned back to the other naked girls.

"No, I think I've played enough," he said in a whisper.

The clouds chased each other high above, and he leaned his head back
watching the dragon. High above, the dragon still hadn't caught the
girl in the grass. Below, the girls' shouts reached his ears, and he
almost believed that the universe was normal again.


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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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