Message-ID: <43806asstr$1060391402@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: <dcrimsonp@nym.alias.net> X-Original-Message-ID: <20030808193404.26550.qmail@nym.alias.net> From: Crimson Dragon <dcrimsonp@nym.alias.net> X-ASSTR-Original-Date: 8 Aug 2003 19:34:04 -0000 Subject: {ASSM} (New) Dawn of Time [140/157] (MF+, bond, control) {Crimson Dragon} Date: Fri, 8 Aug 2003 21:10:02 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2003/43806> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, hecate -----BEGIN PGP SIGNED MESSAGE----- ==================================================================== 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 140 ==================================================================== (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. -----BEGIN PGP SIGNATURE----- Version: 2.6.3ia Charset: noconv iQEVAwUBPzP6z0xM3srBk85hAQE2HQf/Vde66KSqNHqh23ugZQBXfIOUCJ7U0LNx GeFFPjFS/PRybZD+zozPjayB4/fOV09WEKGiEwMLGKgsvdZ8nrhD3QzmW94X1MLU LVJxvB1vR4g506huFaclKOxLT4UUq9UwxboRYK8nnaHYxhV+6vAKQ/VkH40Cot6l MIiDhPByQrwG/FuE1qJfrAXmVYQlAf6sNB8pdzzwYys/ZKvU33z1HuPjzlOBM00x ORqX+rzDHj4elFc4bvdXr38oiLIIzMJ6816nfTTzKU3iLJRLoldo6NpFW5mG6k+Q DuCPt6gfM0K1x5pGwm7QTi+bh7Y0ozUX5BFpMkn1TRq6OQiadBgrYg== =Fr9M -----END PGP SIGNATURE----- -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> | | FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}| |Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+