|
Chapter 31
© Copyright 2003 -
Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved
Karen shivered intimately as Kate's tongue slipped easily between
the folds. The taste of Karen, of another girl, that she'd dreaded,
wasn't nearly as bad as she'd imagined -- sweet and musky. Somewhere
in her mind, she knew the geography; the knowledge of her own sex
gleaned from fingers, private fingers, translated into an intimate
knowledge of Karen. Karen was different, oh yes, but not so
different as to confuse the kneeling girl. Her geography, her map,
wasn't all that different: vaginal opening, inner lips, and swollen
despite her protests, her clitoris.
Kate inhaled deeply; Karen's scent filled her lungs. Kate's vagina
clenched, causing a deep groan. She shivered, hoping that the
Timeman hadn't seen the goosebumps. He would take her shiver for
something that is was not.
(Isn't it?)
Slowly she let her tongue explore Karen again, tickling her inner
lips, and swirling around the girl's clitoris. A circular motion of
her tongue caused Karen to cry out above, oblivious to the audience,
pulling against the ropes holding her. Her legs remained apart,
though her thighs were trembling beside Kate's face.
Kate could feel the tears slipping from her eyes, but she didn't
think she was crying.
(I'm crying?)
Suddenly, his voice appeared, hot against her ear. She nearly
stopped her ministrations, but continued at his words.
"If she doesn't climax, I'm going to start giving her
encouragement."
(Encouragement?)
Kate tried to back away to ask what he meant, but he gently forced
her head back into its original position, buried between Karen's
thighs. Kate moaned, pulling against her own bound wrists.
(Encouragement?)
Naked. Helpless. Forced to lick Karen.
(Karen?)
Kate's clitoris begged for attention. She squirmed a little on her
knees, trying to adjust, trying to reduce the heat simmering below.
The grass caressed her feet as she shifted. Instead of reducing her
arousal, the slight motion and the shifting position only served to
crank up her heat. Kate moaned again, her voice muffled by Karen's
sex.
(Aroused. Christ. She's Karen.)
(Who cares?)
(I DO!)
Kate's tongue stopped teasing and though she didn't really know what
she was doing, she let her tongue stroke over Karen's clitoris,
trying to read the girl's voice and small movements. Somewhere in
her subconscious, she heard the man speaking above.
"Three minutes, to climax, or ..."
She heard Karen cry out in pain above her, knew that the gunman had
slapped a breast -- because he could. Kate could sense Karen crying
above, but then her body descended a little, and Karen's hips were
pumping, gently, guiding Kate's tongue and lips.
Two minutes and thirty seconds passed, Karen's breath coming more
rapidly above Kate. Small animal sounds, panting, issued from
Karen's throat as she concentrated. Kate's tongue fell numb, but
still she used it. Her fingers, useless, remained behind her, unable
to assist her mouth.
"Thirty seconds," his relentless voice said quietly.
"God. Oh God. Please," Karen's voice rose from the fog. Her hips
rocked faster against Kate's tongue.
(Suck)
(No. Oh no.)
(Suck)
Her lips formed an 'O', her nose nestled into Karen's blonde curls.
She allowed suction to settle around Karen's clitoris, and the girl
exploded, her hips nearly knocking Kate backwards into the grass.
Karen's climax came without voice, until she finally cried out, a
long scream, more like an animal than human, her vaginal muscles
cramping and relaxing where Kate's tongue had been. When Kate
thought Karen was finished, she rocked back on her heels, face
flushed, nipples aching, and the scent of Karen coating her lips and
nose. She wanted to drag her hand across her lower face, only
because of the wetness, but her hands remained restricted behind
her. She pulled ineffectually against the ropes.
Karen's knees buckled and she fell against her restraints for the
second time, her breathing ragged, her face flushed.
The Timeman maintained a smirk, and Kate purposely averted her eyes.
Her vagina was crying out, and her breasts, even the one that Darren
had tormented, glowed with a satisfied flush. She desperately didn't
want the gunman to see her; she tried to force her own arousal from
her body.
His fingers appeared at her elbow, and she slowly climbed to her
feet with his help. She refused to look up, to gaze at him. He
didn't force her, merely moved behind Kate and began to release her
hands. Soon, her wrists were freed, and Kate rubbed at her wrists,
glad to have the use of her fingers again.
Kate struggled to control her breathing. When she looked up, Karen
had regained her feet, moved them back together. Her face was
flushed, but her breathing seemed to be almost back to normal.
"What was that?" Karen whispered.
"Stress," Kate said. "I think."
With a touch of his fingers to her bare shoulder, the gunman urged
her towards Karen.
"Let me guess. You want me to kiss her, now."
Kate massaged her wrists. Rope marks imprinted into her skin there.
She suspected that she would have to get used to rope marks on her
skin. She carefully passed the back of her right hand over her lower
face and chin. Karen's moisture had mostly dried, and truthfully,
Kate didn't mind as much as she thought she would.
(Do you want to kiss her?)
(I don't think so.)
Kate stepped forward, ready to kiss Karen.
"No. You don't have to kiss her."
(But ...)
"Thank-you," Kate whispered, her face beginning to flush again.
"Just untie her. And don't tangle the ropes."
Kate didn't ask why the gunman didn't cut the girl free, or why he
didn't untie Karen himself. She moved towards Karen's bound breasts
and began working at the knots. Her apprehension about touching
another girl's bare breasts seemed far and distant, now.
Unbinding Karen took a long time, or at least it seemed so for Kate,
but as each rope fell to the grass, Kate could see Karen relaxing
more and more. The rope marks on Karen's body were far tighter than
those on Kate's wrists, and Karen had audibly cried out when her
breasts had finally fallen free of their restraint. But, at last,
Karen stepped free from the birch that had been her prison, rubbing
at her wrists.
Kate dropped to her knees, her freed fingers gathering up the ropes
that littered the grass around her.
While Kate carefully coiled the ropes that she'd removed from
Karen's body, the gunman led the blonde girl to a tree perhaps three
metres away. Without protest, Karen sat in the grass, pulling her
bare legs up, and allowed the gunman to handcuff her hands behind
her and around the tree. She pulled against the metal for a moment,
but then leaned back against the birch and lay her head back, blonde
hair spilling over her shoulders.
"Stand."
Kate looked up, fear returning to her eyes. She carefully lay the
last loops of rope into the grass and slowly climbed to her bare
feet. A few strands of the rope pressed into the arch of her left
foot. She absently stepped away from it, towards the gunman.
"I suppose it's my turn, now."
(My turn for what?)
He pursed his lips as if considering her fate. Kate, resigned,
waited, her hands brushing her bare thighs. After a moment, he
guided her silently to the tree to which Karen had been tied. Kate
idly wondered why he hadn't simply tied her to another tree and left
Karen tied to this one. She mentally shrugged as he turned her.
The papery bark of the birch scratched at her bare back and
buttocks, but she didn't complain. She glanced down; the cigarettes
lay by her left foot, duct tape still attached. She would suffer
whatever he had in mind. Resistance would land her and probably
Karen into a boatload of pain.
Gently, he drew her hands behind her and around the tree. Divots in
the bark of the tree testified to its former occupant's stress; Kate
was sure those divots were put there by Karen's fingernails --
though in response to pain or pleasure, she didn't know.
As the ropes began to lash her, she fought her body's responses.
Her nipples, and her clitoris screamed for a touch, even the air
tickled her. She groaned, which her captor mistook for a sign of
discomfort.
"Too tight?" he asked.
She pulled at her wrists. Was he tying her elbows? Christ. She
couldn't remember if Karen's elbows had been tied or not.
"Yes. Does it make any difference?" she replied.
He laughed, and continued to tie her. She didn't resist, though she
was sure that she'd tear her shoulders out of their joints if she
moved too much. Maybe that was the idea.
Again, she groaned, as he began to wrap rope around her breasts.
This time the groan was a mixture of discomfort and arousal. He
looked at her almost knowingly, but finished off with a bow between
her jutting breasts. Kate thought that her breasts were a little
tighter than Karen's had been, but she didn't complain. They ached.
Her vagina howled at her, and her nipples ached.
(Please no. I don't want to be aroused. NO.)
"Shall I tie her feet?" he mused, almost under his breath.
Kate thought it was a rhetorical question, but spoke anyway.
"You don't need to. I won't kick you, no matter what you do to me,
but if you want to tie them, I'll hold still."
He looked up, as if in surprise, as if he hadn't expected her to say
anything, that he hadn't expected to be heard. He grinned, and then
shook his head.
"If I told you to spread your legs?"
"I would. I don't want to, but I would."
Her feet stood primly together, her toes making a single line. Her
toenails weren't painted, unlike Karen's.
He nodded, accepting her words.
"If I wanted to spank you between the legs?"
Kate paled, and pleaded quietly.
"Please, don't."
He smiled enigmatically, and turned away from her. Kate pulled
weakly against her bonds. He'd tied her belly to the tree, the rope
pulling back her midriff. Another rope passed under her arms and
above her bound breasts, holding her upper body securely to the
tree. If her knees buckled, she'd fall as Karen had, but she'd stay
upright. Better than the chain. She wouldn't strangle, at least. Her
arms ached, and her elbows felt like they were in the wrong place.
The tree didn't seem to mind holding her.
"You don't have to hurt me," Kate said.
The gunman turned back towards her. His eyes travelled her body, for
the first time that Kate could remember. He'd always kept his eyes
on hers, not ogling her. Even this cursory exam, seemed more in
appreciation of her form bound for him, than to make her
uncomfortable with her nakedness.
"No?"
Kate shook her head, her hair kissing her cheeks as she did. She
wanted to push it back out of her face, but settled for tossing her
head in a practised motion. Most of her hair settled back away from
her eyes.
"I'll do whatever you want. I'll fuck you, if you want. You don't
have to convince me."
"I know."
"You want to hurt me?"
He shrugged.
"Then why?"
"I want to control you."
She laughed, and was rewarded by a flush into his face.
"I let you tie me naked to a tree in front of you, and you want to
control me?"
"Silly, isn't it?"
She nodded, couldn't help a smile. Then the thought of what he might
do to her while she was tied nakedly to this tree intruded, and the
smile faded.
"My breasts hurt," she whispered.
"I know," he said. "Not for much longer."
With that, he turned, and began to walk back towards the smoking
area, stepping over its yellow marks like a Godzilla over Tokyo.
Chapter 32
© Copyright 2003 -
Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved
Her breasts jutted like disparate mounds. They weren't part of her,
were they? These two aching mounds upon her chest.
When she raised her eyes from the tight mounds on her chest, he was
standing in front of her. He held two white cylinders in his left
hand, only a few centimetres from her nose.
She instantly recognised them.
"Please no. I'll ..."
"... do anything," he finished her sentence for her. "You've said."
His voice seemed overly cruel, almost like he was forcing it.
Nevertheless, her pleading tumbled from her lips.
"Please no. God. I. What good are my breasts to you if you burn
them?"
He laughed, and she trembled. The ropes wouldn't let her fall, but
she was sure that she would have if the restraints weren't there.
"What makes you think that I want to burn your breasts?"
Her eyes followed the two virgin cigarettes held easily between his
fingers.
"Because. Because I said. I said you could."
"Do you think it matters what you say?"
"Oh, God. Please. Spank me. I'll fuck you. I'll have sex with you.
You don't need to do this."
He held up a lighter. Karen's lighter. The body glowed a fluorescent
pink underneath a metal shield and striker. Kate glanced over at the
other naked girl, still handcuffed to the tree. Karen was crying
silently, tears rolling down her face. At her glance, Karen looked
away.
He absently flicked the lighter. Kate cringed.
"Please."
"I'm not going to burn your breasts, they're much too ...
attractive."
Kate let her breath out in one long exhale.
"Thank-you. Oh, God, thank-you."
He placed the cigarettes against her lips. Karen's cigarettes. The
smell of unburnt tobacco assailed her.
"Please. I don't want to smoke."
"I know."
"No. You don't understand. I've never. Never even tried one. I. I
don't want to. Please."
"No time like the present to kill that resolve."
She shook her head, kept her lips together.
He sighed, and reached out with his free hand. Without looking, he
captured her left nipple. She tried to twist away, but the damn
ropes held her. She couldn't move her chest so much as a centimetre
from his fingers. Stabs of arousal travelled from her left nipple to
her swollen clitoris.
(Oh, God.)
He twisted, softer than Darren had, but amplified by the pressure of
the ropes. She tried to maintain her composure, until tears leaked
from her eyes. He continued to increase the pressure on her slowly,
until the pain flooded her like a tidal wave.
Despite herself, she screamed. Slowly he released her. She knew that
it had been minor, that the pain was nothing compared to what he'd
put Karen through. Darren had gripped her harder. The ropes
amplified her pain; she knew that deep in her mind, but it didn't
help. It hurt. Her clitoris throbbed.
(I can still taste Karen.)
"All right. All right. Christ."
Somehow, him forcing her to hold the vile things in her mouth seemed
to be worse than tying her to the tree, than making her feel Darren,
to make her strip, to make her have sex with Karen.
Weeping, she allowed him to place the things between her lips.
She fought with her mouth, somehow stopping herself from spitting
the cancer sticks from her lips.
She sensed the flame of the lighter, and suddenly her mouth filled
with acrid smoke. Surprised, she inhaled, and her lungs caught fire.
Coughing, she begged him to take them away. One of the smokes fell
from her lips and tumbled to the grass. She danced away from it,
holding her bare feet from the smouldering heater. As he bent to
retrieve it, she struggled not to inhale, breathing the second hand
smoke through her nose.
(I dropped one. Oh shit. What's that going to cost me?)
Slowly, he straightened, the cigarette smouldering in his fingers.
He reached forward and took the remaining one from her lips.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she whispered, still coughing.
"Nasty habit."
"I don't smoke."
He smiled, and held up the burning rods.
"No, I don't suppose that you do."
She fell silent, trying to control the coughs. When she'd settled
down, he spoke again.
"What if I wanted to burn you somewhere else?"
She looked up sharply.
"What?"
"Burn you somewhere else."
He had the lighter in his other hand, snapping the flame on and off.
The pink body of the lighter danced in her view. Grog make fire.
"Please, no."
He flicked the lighter on, this time leaving the flame burning. He
had the thing turned up to its highest setting. Slowly, he passed
the flame under her bound breasts. Kate tried to shrink away; the
tree refused to let her fade through it like a ghost. She screamed,
even though the heat was only slightly uncomfortable as long as he
kept it moving. She closed her eyes. She could kick him, but somehow
she knew that it wouldn't be a good idea. He would tape the things
to her nipples, or grind them out on her taut flesh, if she raised
her foot.
(My breasts. Oh, God.)
She couldn't protect herself. Her shoulders had nearly separated as
she'd tried to avoid the flame. She stood still and hoped that he
wouldn't hold it still for more than a second.
(Please, God.)
He let the lighter fall cold again.
"No. Those breasts are too pretty to burn, as you so thoughtfully
pointed out."
"Please."
"How about a thigh? Your belly?" He held the smouldering cigarettes
towards her skin, kneeling at her feet. "I could put them out on
you, you know?"
Kate groaned.
"Spread your legs."
"Please no."
"Spread them."
His hand lightly slapped her thigh.
Crying, she spread her legs. His eyes were on hers, not on her sex
as she'd expected. His blurred face was upturned, centimetres from
her private places. She was under no illusions, he'd see her private
places if he wanted to, but
(Please not like this)
there were worse places to be burned weren't there?
"How about on the lips? Or inside? I could put them out inside?"
"On my breasts. Burn them if you want to. Just not between my legs.
Please."
Her eyes were closed, but she sensed him rise. She closed her legs,
afraid he was going to slap her again. But he allowed her her
modesty, and didn't slap her.
"Your breasts?"
"Yes," she said dully. "I said you could." She closed her eyes
again, and waited.
She screamed.
But the heat from the lighter kissed her nipples from a distance.
It was uncomfortable, but bearable. When the searing pain of a
cigarette being ground out against her bound breasts didn't come,
and the gentle heat of the lighter released her, she opened her
eyes. She couldn't see because the tears obstructed her vision, but
she whispered anyway.
"Thank you," she said simply.
"Oh, we aren't done yet," he said quietly.
"Please, don't do this."
"Control," he said simply.
"I'm in your control, you bastard."
Her eyes were clearing, and he was in front of her. The cigarettes
still burning. He held them up.
"Would you rather be spanked?"
"Than burned? Yes."
And despite her torment, her vagina screamed at her.
(Not now. Christ, not now.)
"Ask me."
"Ask you what?"
"To spank you."
(NO!)
(I'll do it anyway. He'll make me.)
(NO!)
"Spank me? Please don't burn me." And then, almost as an
afterthought, she added one word. "Sir." As she said the word, her
body shivered, and her wonderfully intact nipples ached.
"Control," he whispered. He dropped the cigarettes into the grass
beside the ones that he'd tortured Karen with, and ground them out
with his shoe.
(He could have made me put that out, with my bare foot. Oh, God.)
She let her breath out, and wept. He left her alone for a while, and
she didn't look up to see what he was doing. When she finally raised
her eyes, she swallowed hard. He was standing patiently in front of
her with a branch held like a sword at his side. It brushed easily
against his jeans.
Without warning, he reached out and tapped her right breast with the
end of it. The pain reached her mind almost immediately. She'd been
spanked as a little girl, but nothing like this. The pain coiled up
through her bound breasts and into her mind. She was sure that she
would pass out, but she didn't.
Her scream fell echoless into the silent world. She thought that she
could hear Karen screaming in the background as well. The second
tap, and Kate was sure that was all they were, landed against the
top side of her right breast almost as quickly as the one to her
other side. She couldn't even find the strength to scream.
He wasn't hitting her hard, she knew, but the branch stung against
her taut skin. She was sure that she must be bleeding.
Dimly, she heard his voice.
"One more, Katie."
Irrationally, she wanted to scream at him that her name wasn't
'Katie', but the next strike, harder than the others fell upwards
into her bound breasts. Sure that she was about to split, she
screamed again.
Her clitoris nearly jumped out of her body. She squeezed her legs
together, but it wasn't enough. Dammit, it wasn't enough. Her hips
pumped, against her will. Anything to make this go away. A climax
would dull the agony.
(Please, no.)
He left her alone in her pain for a few minutes, watching her writhe
in her bonds. After a time, he sat in the grass near Kate's dancing
bare feet. He ignored Karen's whispered admonition: "You fucking
bastard."
At last, Kate found her tongue.
"Please, no more. Please."
"No more Kate. No more. I promise."
Kate expelled her breath and took another deep one.
"I'll do anything you want. Just don't do that again. Please."
"That was light. I only tapped you. Probably won't be any marks."
But she could see a thin line of red across the tops of her breasts,
and she was sure that a mirror image would be on the underside where
he hit both of her sensitive orbs at once. Christ, but it had hurt.
The lines weren't bloodied, and she was sure that the marks would
fade, but for now, they were alive and well, thank you.
"I. I know. Please let me go. At least untie me."
She desperately wanted to cradle herself, do something to ease the
pain.
(But it isn't the pain, is it?)
He rose, and she watched warily. Noticing her gaze, he idly tossed
the branch to the side. It ended up beside Karen, the tip that had
tormented Kate resting against Karen's right thigh. The naked girl
crabbed away from it as if it were a hot poker.
"Are you all right?" he asked Kate.
Kate slowly nodded.
"I'll live. But you didn't have to do that."
He almost looked like he regretted it. Almost. He continued to look
into her eyes, ignoring her body. Except he wasn't ignoring her was
he?
She shivered as his fingers traced the ropes encircling her breasts.
Gasping, she tried to twist away, cried out as his fingertips traced
the shallow welts that the branch had caused.
"Please," she whispered. But she couldn't stop him any more than she
could have stopped him from hitting her a moment ago.
Relentlessly, his fingers traced down her body, toying with her
belly rope, and brushing her fine pubic hair. Kate forced her legs
together, thighs trembling.
Her clitoris throbbed with each touch of her skin with his. His
breath, which she expected would be stale, was sweet against her
cheek. She closed her eyes.
The fingers touched her thighs.
"Please, no," she whispered again. But she knew he could force her.
Hold up two cigarettes, or a branch. She'd do whatever he asked.
(Within reason.)
Helplessly, her nipples forced her legs to part. Only slightly. Her
toes curled into the grass.
"Oh, God," she moaned.
His fingers brushed at her sex. Her clitoris screamed. Her nipples
cried out.
And then one finger slipped inside.
Shamefully, she knew that there was no resistance there.
(Sopping wet.)
(Please, no.)
One electric touch to her swollen clitoris.
Her hips rocked towards that touch without her consent. It wasn't
quite enough, but it had been close. So damn close. One. Single.
Touch.
"Please," she begged.
The finger retracted, and she tried to follow. Her body tried to
follow, even if her mind refused to acknowledge her arousal.
And then he was gone, moved a step backwards, no longer close and
she couldn't follow, the ropes holding her, breasts aching, vagina
clenching rhythmically.
She couldn't help it.
"Please let me."
He stood quietly, eyes still on her face. She knew that she looked a
wreck. Couldn't help it.
"I want ..." she began, unsure if she could finish the thought.
"I know."
She wept for a moment, head bowed, body heaving. He wasn't going to
give her what she wanted. She didn't know why, but part of her
rejoiced.
"Let me go," she said quietly.
He shook his head.
"You liked it."
"Liked what?"
"This. You tied there helpless and vulnerable. Me hitting you."
Kate glanced over. Karen had become unusually still. She'd witnessed
her whipping, and maybe even the touching afterwards.
(My breasts)
But she was back into that slower time bubble for now.
Kate shook her head slowly, denying, denying.
The gunman smiled and held up his right hand. Kate could see her own
moisture there, knowing it matched between her legs.
"It made you hot."
Kate could feel the blush rising, and could do nothing to stop it.
Suddenly, anger flowed into her and she screamed.
"You fucking make me strip, like an animal. Make me have sex. Tie
me up so tight I hurt. Whip me. Threaten me. Caress me. What the
fuck did you expect to happen?"
He laughed, but it wasn't unkind.
"It happens to some women," he said slowly. "Reaction to stress." He
spoke as if he knew what he was talking about. Kate wondered for a
moment how many women he'd done this to.
"What the fuck did you expect to happen?" she whispered. The blush
hadn't left her cheeks. She didn't care. Tears began to roll down
her cheeks.
He slowly turned and began to walk away.
And despite her anger and her discomfort, her body continued to
insist. She wanted to climax and couldn't help it. Not at all.
"Are you going to leave me like this?" Even she didn't know what she
was referring to anymore.
He turned towards her, eyes still on her face, and smiled.
"Please?" she asked.
He mouthed a single word to her and then turned back towards Kresner
Collegiate. Even through the tears she recognised the words on his
lips.
(Control.)
She lowered her head then, and wept.
Chapter 33
© Copyright 2003 -
Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved
"Kate?"
The feminine voice brought her head up again, and she willed back
the tears. She was incredibly frustrated, and her body ached
horribly, and she was pretty sure her hands had turned to ice below
the ropes holding her wrists, but she didn't feel as badly as she
thought she should.
Kate had thought that Karen was still in a slower time bubble.
Apparently, the Timeman had released the other girl before
disappearing around the corner of the school. At least she wasn't
alone. Maybe the Timeman wasn't completely a bastard.
"I'm all right, Karen. I think."
"Oh God, he hit you."
"I know. But that isn't the problem."
Karen was silent for a moment.
"He touched you."
Kate sighed.
(That was the problem.)
"I'm sorry he hit you," Karen said.
"That's all right."
"It's my fault," Karen said.
Kate shook her head. Her hair danced around her face again. "Not
your fault. He would have done it to me anyway."
(Control.)
"He's going to keep you, isn't he?"
Karen didn't fully understand what was happening to her, but she
understood enough, Kate thought. As much as she could, sitting nude
and handcuffed to a tree. Kate looked back down. Her toes played
with a blade of grass. At least he hadn't tied her ankles.
(And I didn't kick him. Glory be. God knows what he would have
done if I'd kicked him.)
"I think so. I told him he could."
Karen looked puzzled for a moment, then shifted her position. Kate
idly wished that she could shift her position. Her breasts ached.
The pain from the branch had faded to a pleasant glow, but the ropes
were tight, and her breasts ached in their restraint. Her shoulders
felt like a fire had been built under the skin.
"You gave yourself up for me."
Kate slowly shook her head. "I gave myself up for me," she said.
Karen fell silent for a few minutes. Kate broke the quiet. Her eyes
shifted to Darren, the snake, still standing stock still, hands
cuffed to the conduit where she'd had to stand, chained by the
throat. So long ago. Her clothes littered the asphalt at Darren's
still feet, and the chain that had held her neck dangled silently
beside Darren.
(Thank God, the Timeman didn't wake up Darren, too. I couldn't
take that.)
(But I would, if I had to, I guess.)
"Where did he go?" Kate asked.
"The bastard?"
"Darren is still chained to the wall."
Karen looked up and gazed at the guy she had been kissing before all
this started.
"Yeah, I guess he is a bastard, too. The guy with the gun left
around the corner. I don't know where he went."
"Hmmmm."
"I liked it, you know. You're pretty good."
"What?"
"Good."
Kate regarded Karen. The naked girl was blushing on the grass, and
with her hands behind her, she couldn't cover her features. Her
knees were drawn up against her chest, obscuring her bare breasts.
"Good?"
"When you ... you know. When he made you ... lick me." Kate shook
her head at that. "No really. I'm not a lesbian. Christ, at least I
don't think so. He forced me to climax, threatened to hurt me if I
didn't. But I've ... you know ... done myself ..." her voice trailed
off.
"Karen. I have too. Relax."
After what they'd been through, Kate couldn't believe the girl was
having trouble talking about masturbation.
"You were better than that. And I liked it."
"Thanks. I think."
The silence became awkward, and Karen shifted again, the chain
between her wrists jingling. Kate's clitoris continued to throb, but
it was beginning to be a little less insistent.
"Did it turn you on?" Karen asked.
"What?"
"Having ... sex ... with me?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
Karen slipped into silence again.
"Did it?"
"I think it was the whole situation."
"I wouldn't if I weren't here, I know that, but if I wasn't tied to
this tree, I swear I'd have sex with you right now."
It took her a moment to raise her head and reply. A small smile
broke onto her lips. She suspected her arousal was more obvious than
she cared to admit, and it was driving her expression more than she
cared for. She thought that she might just be turning into a guy.
"I'd like that," Kate said simply.
"He touched you."
"Teased me."
"He didn't ..."
"No."
Karen pursed her lips. "I'm sorry."
"I'm not sure I wanted him to."
(Yes I did. And my clit would scream it to the world if I let her.)
Karen nodded slowly. "What are you going to do."
Kate considered that for a moment.
"Let him control me, I guess."
The girls lapsed into silence after that.
<---===***===--->
"Where were you?"
The Timeman shrugged without answering her. He'd emerged from the
side of the school, walking quickly towards the bound girls. Kate
had begun to wonder if the guy was going to leave them like this for
hours, but she estimated he'd only been gone for ten minutes.
Irrationally, she was glad to see him, and in another way, her belly
filled with dread.
Without a word, he began to release her from the tree, starting with
her belly. Kate inhaled deeply as the rope fell from her body.
"Please, my breasts."
"You can do them, last."
Kate sighed, knowing that arguing wouldn't do her any good. When he
touched her hands, she cried out.
"Whoops," he remarked as he fumbled with the knots, "those are a bit
tight. I hadn't intended to leave you there that long."
"I hadn't intended to be tied here this long either," she remarked
dryly. She thought she saw him smile. The man who had whipped her
bound breasts had retreated. This gunman was almost -- civil, beyond
keeping her for the other one. She thought that in other
circumstances he might actually be likeable.
Her nipples and clitoris had stopped throbbing a while ago, though a
dull heat continued to infuse her. At the thought of her captor
touching her again, she had to will away another twinge.
The ropes fell from her wrists, and he began to release her elbows.
Before her elbows were free she screamed.
"What?" he asked.
"My hands," she whispered.
Her hands felt like an army of ants had commenced biting her.
Almost tenderly, he rubbed at them as she struggled against her own
elbows to bring them in front of her. His touch sent agony up her
arms, but she honestly didn't think he knew that. She bit her lip,
and willed back tears of pain. After a few minutes, sensation
returned, and the pins and needles fled. His rubbing became nothing
more than a pleasant sensation. He must have sensed her relax,
because he returned to the ropes encircling her elbows and quickly
released her.
As soon as her arms were free, Kate tried to take a tentative step
away from her prison. Her knees rubberised, and she stumbled to the
grass. She fell on her left side, her still bound breasts bouncing.
"Ooof."
"Kate!" Karen's voice floated from where she remained tied to her
own tree.
Kate struggled to her hands and knees.
"I'm all right."
The gunman was beside her, kneeling and looking at her concernedly.
"I'm all right," Kate repeated in a whisper. "Can I take these damn
things off, now?" She nodded towards her chest.
He nodded, and then rose to walk towards Karen. Kate carefully
lowered herself to her knees.
Gingerly, she worked the bow free between her breasts, and
laboriously and carefully unwound the rope from around her breasts.
Each freed loop released more heaven into her chest. Soon, the rope
lay tangled across her thighs, and her breasts had returned to their
normal healthy pink. Only two slight welts remained. Her breasts
tingled.
Kate remained kneeling in the grass until Karen and her captor
arrived. Karen knelt beside her without any hesitation.
"Wrap up the ropes. We're almost done here."
Quickly, the girls began to untangle and wrap the ropes in neat
coils. Karen crawled through the grass to retrieve the ones that the
gunman had dropped haphazard behind the birch, the ones that had
held Kate's wrists and elbows.
Kate looked at her fingers so easily wrapping the rope that had been
her breasts' prison. So free.
(That rope was around my breasts.)
Her clitoris throbbed.
(And he hit me.)
Her nipples echoed her clitoris.
(Please no. Not again.)
She willed down the sensations, and tied off the coil neatly. Karen
handed her the remaining ropes. She looked up, and rose when the man
motioned them to do so.
They walked in front of him, aware that he was probably watching
them as they walked. The soft grass changed to harsher asphalt
beneath her bare feet. With a sparkle of apprehension, Kate noted
that they were walking towards Darren.
(Not Darren. I went through all that for nothing?)
"Put them in the bag."
The blue knapsack stood by Darren's frozen feet. Kate knelt, the
asphalt warm and pebbly beneath her bare knees. She unzipped the
pack and slipped the ropes into the pack. There were other
implements in the pack, but she couldn't quite see. A lot of
handcuffs, and some chain were obvious. She re-zipped the pack.
Irrationally, she watched Darren's feet as if one might come alive
and lash out at her. She scrambled back to her feet.
And suddenly he was alive, twisting in his bonds and cursing.
"What the fuck? Fucking cock tease."
He really did look uncomfortable. He stared at the naked girls in
front of him, not so much with desire as in anger. Kate didn't
really understand what he was angry about until she remembered; the
gunman had forced her to give him a hand job through his jeans, and
then abandon him. Despite her revulsion, she tried to stifle a
smirk. She was frustrated, too, but his frustration almost seemed --
just. She could still feel his fingers on her nipple, twisting. Her
clitoris gasped again, and she sighed.
"Just what the fuck do you think you are smirking at, you fucking
cock-teasing BITCH!"
"Not much," Kate said quietly.
"If he'd let me out of these fucking handcuffs, I'd fucking break
every bone in your body. See how you scream then, fucking bitch."
Kate smiled.
"I've been through worse."
"Huh?"
"Tell him." The voice came from behind her. Kate looked over her
shoulder, and he nodded. Amazing. She'd been afraid of being naked
in front of this guy, and here she stood, naked, head up, and proud.
Her voice issued from her throat easily, almost as if she were
giving a speech for grading.
"After I left you," she smirked again, and he growled, "he made me
have sex with Karen. We were both tied." Darren's eyes widened,
almost as if he'd was sorry to have missed the sight. Kate was sure
that he was exceptionally disappointed. She blushed a little, and
then continued. "He tied me to the tree instead, tied my breasts,
and then wanted to burn me with cigarettes." Kate watched with
amusement as Darren's fly began to rise, millimetre by millimetre.
"He didn't, thank God, but he did whip me with a branch. It hurt,
Darren. I hurt. I'm human, and it hurt. A lot. I cried, like you
want to see, but I'm glad that you didn't. And then he felt me up,
all right? He felt me up, like you will never feel me up. And I
liked it." His fly was nearly throbbing at her description. She
could sense Karen gaping at her, and Darren's eyes nearly popped out
of his head.
She wanted to spit at him, but didn't. Somehow, she suspected that
her captor wouldn't approve.
"You are such a fucking slut," Darren remarked.
Tears sprang to Kate's eyes, but she managed to will them away.
"At least I'm not a fucking self-serving snake."
Darren turned his attention to Karen. He rocked his hips forward
towards her, obscenely, and his voice began low rising to almost a
scream at the end.
"I'd rock your world. Burn you. Whip you. You FUCKING cock teasing
CUNT."
It didn't even look like she thought about it. Kate watched as
Karen's bare foot rose easily, connecting between Darren's legs,
dead centre. The air whooshed out of him, and he fell, hanging from
the handcuffs.
Kate felt a tap on her shoulder. She slowly turned from the gasping
fish in front of her. Dimly, she was aware of a hoarse voice behind
her.
"Fucking bitch dropped my 'nads. Bitch. Bitch."
The gunman wore a smile on his face, almost suppressing a laugh.
"Not a very bright boy, I must admit," he laughed. "What the hell
did you two see in that guy?"
Kate shrugged, more embarrassed by her former mistakes than her
nudity now.
The gunman continued laughing. "Care to take a crack at him, too?"
She'd suffered through a lot of pain herself, and didn't really want
to inflict any. Karen looked a little sick after bringing her foot
back from the kick, but she'd been provoked. Kate slowly shook her
head.
"Fucking cock-teasing whore! Don't have the balls to kick me! You're
my fucking love slave!"
She honestly wondered if Darren had broken under the strain. Or
maybe he wanted it. She didn't even know him any more. Naked or not,
she whirled, and mimicked Karen, her bare foot striking Darren in
the balls.
"Shut the fuck up, Darren," she hissed.
Darren seemed to pass out after her foot dropped from between his
legs.
Tears sprung to her eyes, and she let them fall this time.
"Shut the fuck up," she begged.
Chapter 34
© Copyright 2003 -
Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved
He led them, in silence, back towards the birch trees. Impulsively,
Kate allowed her fingers to entwine with Karen's, and though she was
sure that the guy behind them was enjoying the sight of her walking
naked holding hands with a girl, she didn't particularly care
anymore. Karen's fingers squeezed gently.
Insistently, a touch of his fingers separated the girls when arrived
in front of the trees.
"What now?" Kate asked quietly. She eyed the trees with distrust,
could see herself bound there for a long time more.
"I'm going to handcuff Karen to a tree, and then we're going into
the school."
"Inside? Why?"
(I know why, don't I?)
He shrugged, and she wasn't sure any longer that she had any idea
why she and he were going into her school.
"Which tree?"
Karen, too, eyed the trees distrustfully.
"You don't have to tie me, do you? I won't go anywhere. Where could
I go?"
(Control.)
He laughed.
"But Karen, I want you to be secured out here."
"Why?"
(Control.)
He shrugged again.
Karen sighed and pointed to the tree where she'd sat to witness
Kate's torment.
"There, I guess. Doesn't matter."
She walked over without prompting, and settled back into the grass,
her legs drawn up.
"Like before, or do you want to tie me with rope?"
The gunman joined her, while Kate leaned against her former prison.
She idly tore off strips of birch bark, and rubbed the papery
substance as she watched.
Without speaking, he urged Karen back into her former position,
hands held behind her, encircling the tree. Karen sighed, but
accepted the metal bracelets onto her wrists. She wasn't moving
until he unlocked her again.
"Are they too tight? You might be there for a while."
Karen pulled gently at her restraints, and nodded her head. A tear
fell from her right eye to lazily trace down her cheek. He gently
brushed it from her skin.
"They're fine, I guess," she mumbled.
"Feet."
Karen looked up sharply, with raised eyebrows.
The gunman held up another pair of chrome restraints, and Karen
sighed, placing her ankles together in front of her.
"I can't run anywhere. I can't uproot the tree."
Her voice sounded like she knew that to protest was useless. She
watched as he circled her naked, and slender, ankles with another
pair of handcuffs. He rose, and walked back to Kate.
"How long are you going to leave me here?" the bound girl asked.
"Until we're finished."
Karen seemed about to ask again, but then decided not to.
"Will Darren wake up?" she asked instead.
"He might, but ignore him. He can't get to you."
Karen nodded. She extended her legs out in front of herself,
oblivious about her exposure. She wiggled her toes.
As he reached Kate, Kate bowed her head. It seemed to please him.
"Can I ..." she began to ask.
"Go ahead."
Surprised that he had given her permission, Kate ran across to where
Karen sat.
"You'll be fine," Kate whispered. "Just ignore the jerk if he wakes
up, and try to sleep or something. I'll make sure, somehow, that he
lets you go. Okay?"
She had no idea if she could convince their captor to let Karen go.
Karen was gorgeous, and she suspected that this wasn't an advantage
in this world. But she'd try, even if it meant giving up herself.
Tears fell unabashedly from Karen's eyes. Kate looked up. The
gunman was walking slowly towards Darren, ignoring the girls.
Gently, Kate brushed the wetness from Karen's cheeks.
"I'm sorry," Karen whispered.
"For what?"
"For Darren."
"I know. I know."
Kate glanced up. The gunman was doing something over by her former
boyfriend, but she couldn't tell what. She turned back to Karen.
(Now's the time, girl. This is the world. If you want to know
what it's like, now is the time.)
Without thinking further, she bent and kissed her. Not a chaste
kiss, but a full mouth open French kiss on the lips. Her body
exploded, her clitoris throbbing, her breasts aching again, as if
they'd never stopped. Karen's tongue touched hers and she pushed,
breaking the kiss. Breathing hard, she rose to her knees.
Flushing, she realised Karen was smiling.
"In another world," Kate whispered.
"I know."
Kate rose to her feet. The gunman was watching them again, perhaps
had seen the kiss. Kate didn't care. She'd been through too much to
care.
"Take care of yourself," Karen said.
Kate blew the bound girl another kiss, and trotted back towards
Darren and the gunman. The sound of her feet changed as she passed
the edge of the pavement, until she arrived breathless by the
gunman's side.
"You look happy," he remarked.
Kate nodded. He moved around her, opening her view of her former
boyfriend. A strip of cloth covered his eyes. Kate smiled. Even if
he woke from his stupor, he wouldn't be able to see Karen.
"That was nice," she said, as she automatically moved her hands
behind her back. The metal circled her wrists again, and she didn't
even bother checking to see if she could release them. She wouldn't
be able to, even if they weren't remarkably tight.
"What was?"
"The blindfold."
"Do you want to be blindfolded, too?"
(Yes)
(NO)
Kate shook her head, momentarily off balance mentally.
"I meant it was nice to stop Darren from seeing Karen while we're
gone."
"He doesn't deserve it," the gunman said simply.
Kate privately agreed.
(He didn't deserve to see anything that he did.)
She felt the pressure of the pack pressed into her fingers, and she
grasped it as best she could with her bound hands.
She felt the cold circle of the gun barrel touch her side, just
under her ribs.
"You don't need to point that thing at me, I'll go wherever you want
me to," Kate said calmly. She was beyond being afraid. Somehow, she
knew that he was brandishing the weapon for effect. Or perhaps as a
symbol. He wouldn't shoot her, even if she gave him a refusal. But
she wouldn't refuse. Not yet, at least. She shivered. The only
danger, at the moment, she thought, was a misfire of the damn thing.
She'd beg him in a bit to put it away again.
"Walk," he said.
And she did. She glanced over her shoulder once, watching as her
clothing receded, tumbled in front of a bound, and blindfolded boy.
Just her bra and panties, she thought, she would do nearly anything
to wear them again.
Her bare feet moved automatically beneath her, moving her around the
corner of the building, back into the grass, and towards the front
of the school.
As she moved around the corner of the school, she turned. He nearly
bumped into her, but otherwise didn't impeded her. Karen was
watching from her tree, quietly reflective. Kate wiggled the
fingers of her left hand towards the bound girl. Karen smiled and
nodded in return.
And then she was moving again, the barrel of the gun pressed lightly
into her skin, urging her forward. Karen disappeared behind brick
and mortar.
Chapter 35
© Copyright 2003 -
Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved
Like a gentleman, he held the door for her. But it wasn't because he
was a gentleman, it was because she was completely incapable of
opening the door herself with her hands bound behind her, and
carrying his pack of toys.
Instead of walking through the open door, she balked, swaying
unsteadily on the last step.
"What?" he asked. She was somewhat surprised that he simply didn't
pull the gun from his waistband and order her in. It had taken some
begging to get him to put the damn thing away, but in the end, he'd
acquiesced and returned it to the relative safety of his pants.
"That's my school," she whispered.
"So?" He honestly didn't understand why she might be uncomfortable
walking amongst her friends and teachers, even if they were frozen
in time, while handcuffed, naked, and scared.
She'd walked through these doors, in freedom, so many times. So many
times.
"Please. Let me dress. You've had your fun with me. We could walk
back, I could get dressed. I'll stay with you, if you want. Tie me
up, I don't care. But it's my school. My friends. I. I don't want to
go in there naked. Please."
"Karen was your friend, wasn't she? And Darren?"
Kate shuddered. "Karen was naked too, and Darren ..." her voice
trailed off.
"He'd seen you naked before?"
Kate shook her head vehemently. "I know they can't see me, but ...
you might let them see me."
He smiled, but didn't deny it. Slowly, he stepped out into the
sunshine and let the door close with a quiet whoosh. He joined Kate
on the top step.
"Sit down, Kate."
She obeyed, somewhat relieved that the weight of the pack had
settled onto the concrete behind her as she sat. The concrete felt
odd against her bare backside.
He was silent for a moment, but then spoke to her.
"It's normal, you know?"
"Normal?"
"Getting aroused by all this."
Kate shook her head, denying the accusation, but then slowly changed
to nodding. Tears began, and she couldn't brush them away. He did
for her, and she sniffled.
"I don't want to be aroused. My body ... just does it."
He nodded, his eyes glazed as if remembering another woman and
another time. Kate's voice continued, slowly and haltingly.
"You strip me. You tie me up. You hit me, for God's sake, and I get
aroused? It's not normal. I don't want this."
He sighed, and broke himself out of his trance, or whatever it was.
He leaned back against his hands.
"Normal? What is normal? I don't know. But you are under stress, in
a weird world, Kate. I can't let you go. Not now. And you'll fight
it, I know you will, but it is normal. For you. You may not know it
yet, but it is. You'll find yourself as we move along."
She didn't like the sound of that. Not at all.
"I don't want to know."
"I know you don't. I know."
He brushed her cheek, with a true tenderness. Her nerves jangled.
Her nipples came alive again, and her clitoris sang.
(No.)
She sighed, and pulled against the handcuffs. The reminder of her
vulnerability only increased her arousal.
(Control.)
Slowly, she climbed to her feet. He remained on the step, looking up
at her.
"Kate?"
"Yes?"
"You'll be okay. I promise."
She doubted that. She doubted if she would ever be able to go back
to the innocent seventeen year old that had torn up leaves by
herself in the front yard of a school.
Slowly, she nodded.
He picked up the backpack and pressed the loop of canvas back into
her right fingers. She gripped it.
"I think I can go in now."
He nodded, and opened the door for her again. This time, she stepped
through.
<---===***===--->
The marble of the corridors seeped coolness into the soles of her
bare feet. Confidently, she walked ahead of him, the pack bumping
against her thighs.
It felt odd to be barefoot in the school, more so than being naked
and handcuffed. As she passed a group of boys that couldn't be much
out of grade ten, she blushed. If they were alive, and could see
her? Kate Robertson walking in school like that?
She nearly stopped, but instead turned to face him, walking backward
for a moment. The corridor was clear behind her, and she knew that
she wouldn't bump into anything.
"I can't do this."
He smiled.
"Of course, you can. Remember the cigarettes?"
She paled and turned back around. She'd nearly reached the end of
the corridor.
"Where are we going?"
"Show me around."
She had no idea why or what he wanted, but she paused in front of a
door painted green.
"That's my English class."
He turned the knob and poked his head into the classroom. Kate could
see another class watching the blackboard and a teacher that was out
of view.
"If I wanted you to give every boy a blow job that was in there?"
Kate shuddered. The cigarettes floated in her vision. She glanced at
her bare breasts, and shivered again.
"Please, I don't want to do that."
"Every girl an orgasm?"
Karen's sex, and her taste resurfaced in Kate's memory.
"If you made me, I would. Okay? You made me say it. But I'd rather
not. Please."
He smiled and closed the door quietly.
He nodded, and pointed her onwards.
"That's math, in there."
The door was painted the same awful green that all the doors in this
school were.
He motioned her to his side. She walked back, and stood beside him.
Idly, he stroked the underside of her right breast. She flinched,
and then allowed him to do it. It didn't even seem as if he was
aware of what his fingers were doing, and if he wanted to touch her,
there was precious little she honestly could do about it. *She* was
aware of his touch, or at least her body was. Her body wanted the
touch, much as her mind balked at the idea. She moaned
involuntarily.
Her small sound seemed to break his concentration, and he quickly
opened the math room door, almost with a blush on his face. The
fleeting touch of his fingers abandoned her breast. This time, he
stepped into the class room, and Kate followed.
At his motioning, she stood up at the front of the class, shivering.
She couldn't help imagining what she would look like if the class
had been alive.
The class seemed to be in the midst of dismissal. The teacher, a
young woman, Miss Chambers, if Kate remembered correctly, strode
back towards her desk. The students were frozen in a variety of
poses, all rising from their desks or speaking to one another. Kate
tried to ignore them.
The clock on the wall read 12:17:24.
"Who's this?"
Kate snapped her attention back to her captor. He was standing
beside a tall, slim, brunette girl, about Kate's age, caught in the
middle of rising from her desk. The girl had a worried, and rushed,
expression on her face. Yes, she was from Kate's grade, but they ran
in different circles. Kate searched her memory. Leanna? Lisa?
Leigh.
Leigh Cook.
With the name, recognition flooded into Kate. The girl was at the
top of the class, didn't have to try hard to get her marks. Smart.
The girl would breeze into university without trying.
Kate squinted, inspected the other girl. She was pretty in her own
way. Not beautiful, her breasts weren't huge, but she was tall and
leggy and well proportioned for her height. Perhaps if she wore
something more revealing than the baggy sweater and loose jeans?
Why was he interested in Leigh? Karen was far more attractive, at
least in a standard model-ish way, and she was naked sitting in the
grass out back, available, and close.
"You aren't going to wake her, are you?"
He shrugged. "Do you know her?"
"Of her. She's the class brain, doesn't try real hard, and gets
great marks. What's not to hate?"
"You don't like her?"
Kate sighed. "I didn't say that. I don't really even know her. I
doubt if I've even ever spoken to her. She keeps mostly to herself."
"What's her name?"
Kate hesitated. But the girl's name didn't seem worth punishment.
"Leigh. Leigh Cook. But she won't be your type. Trust me."
He regarded Kate for a moment and smiled.
"What's my type?"
That took Kate back for a moment. Then she found her tongue and
whispered, hoping that it was the right answer.
"Girls like Karen. Aren't the Karens of the world every man's
dream?"
The gunman slowly shook his head with a hint of a smile.
"Why is Karen tied to a tree out back, then?" he asked slowly.
The implied question raced through Kate's mind.
(And why are you here?)
Kate didn't have an answer to that one.
"Don't you find Karen attractive?"
He nodded. "Attractive, yes. She's gorgeous, but that isn't all
there is to a woman. Every woman has her own beauty."
Kate swallowed. She nodded in agreement. No, pretty skin and large
breasts weren't all there was to a woman. She glanced down. Her
skin was rather exposed, wasn't it?
(So why strip us at all, then?)
(Control?)
Kate ran her eyes over Leigh again. True, she wasn't Karen, or Kate
herself, but she glowed with a certain beauty. Kate shivered. Leigh
would look just fine naked, she thought before tearing her eyes from
the girl.
With a sigh, he moved away from Leigh, without waking her. Kate let
her breath out in a slow exhalation of relief.
Catching her elbow, the gunman propelled Kate back towards the
doorway. They passed through to the eerily silent hall leaving Leigh
in peace.
<---===***===--->
They had to pass through the gymnasium to get to the cafeteria. Kate
cringed. The current class in there was a female class. The girls
were playing basketball, while some from the finished boys class
watched from the bleachers.
The gunman glanced around with some interest.
"Stay here."
Kate planted her bare feet against the hardwood, and watched as he
walked towards the lady's change room.
Typical male.
He emerged a moment later, a smile on his face. Kate didn't like
that smile, but began to walk again as he caught up to her.
"Interesting," he mused.
"What is?"
"There were some girls in the shower."
"Pig."
She immediately paled, expecting a cuff, but it didn't come.
Instead, he was laughing.
"The world is mine," he remarked. "I can afford to be a pig. But
that isn't what was interesting."
Kate wanted to ask, but didn't. Instead, she merely remarked: "Oh."
As they left the gym, he glanced back at the basketball team.
Kate continued to walk, until he caught up again.
<---===***===--->
The cafeteria was full, and the old fear of exposure shuddered
through her as she stepped into the teeming room. But they all
remained frozen at their tables, in line, and talking in groups,
ignoring the naked and bound girl preceding the clothed guy walking
behind. Kate saw two guys and a girl preparing to play some cards at
one of the first cafeteria tables.
"Food any good in here?"
Kate nodded. "Not bad. Stay away from the hamburger, though."
He nodded, taking a quick survey of the room.
Kate's stomach grumbled. She didn't know how long she'd been in this
world, but it had been lunchtime when she had wandered out to her
tree before all this happened. She hadn't been hungry then, but
she'd been stressed since, to put it mildly.
She hadn't asked the man for anything. Not really. She risked it.
"Sir?"
He turned. He had been gazing into a blonde girl's face. The girl
might have been fifteen, or maybe fourteen.
Instead of asking her question, Kate whispered.
"She's too young. You can't be serious. She's not even out of
puberty."
There wasn't a damn thing she could do about it, if the bastard
chose to rape a fourteen year old, but she'd try. Dammit, she'd try.
Her legs weren't bound. She'd kick, and kick, and ...
He had a weird smile on his lips, almost mocking her.
"I thought I'd get you to fuck her."
"Oh God. I ..."
He laughed then.
"She's too young. Even you're too young, Kate. How old are you
anyway?"
"Seventeen," she answered automatically. His eyebrows rose just a
touch. Surprised him, Kate thought smugly. She knew that she looked
older -- even with her clothes off.
He nodded then, and whistled.
"You took a lot for being only seventeen."
For some reason, a wave of pride galloped through her. She nodded.
Dismissing her, the gunman returned to poking through the crowd.
"Sir?" Her voice wavered. He looked up again. This time from a
teacher. Kate shuddered, but continued. "I'm hungry."
He smiled.
"Actually, I am too."
Relief washed over Kate. Her stomach growled again. He wasn't going
to deny her food.
He continued, dashing her hopes.
"I've been here a lot longer than you, and I can hold off for a
while."
A tear slipped down her face. This was the first thing that she'd
asked for outside of begging to get out of torture. His simple
refusal cut her. Anger, unexplained and hot, rose in her.
"I've done everything for you. Co-operated. Let you tie me up.
Carried your stupid pack. Even had sex for you. Just a little food
is all I want, you fucked up bastard. I'm hungry."
He smiled and walked back to her. His runners touched her bare toes.
For a second, she thought he was going to step on her feet, grind
them beneath his shoes. She didn't care. Her angry eyes flashed at
him.
He touched her cheek. She twisted away from him. She was angry, but
fear stabbed at her, her breathing ragged.
"I should punish you for that little outburst."
Her anger fled. Images of cigarettes, and branches, and ropes
flitted through her mind. She paled, and whispered, "Please no. I'm
sorry. I'll wait."
He nodded as if he understood. She still expected a sharp slap,
perhaps into her breasts.
"I'm sorry," she whispered again.
Without a further word, he propelled the crying girl towards the
entrance. Her shoulder opened the doors and she stumbled back
through the gym, through the basketball girls, and out into the
corridor on the other side.
Chapter 36
© Copyright 2003 -
Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved
"Where's your locker, Kate?"
She managed to stop the tears. He hadn't hit her yet, but being hit
wasn't what she was truly afraid of.
"Please, I don't want to go back outside. Karen ... I yelled at you,
she didn't."
"What are you talking about?"
"I yelled at you. She didn't. Please don't torture her anymore."
He smiled.
"Where's your locker, Kate?"
The tears began again as the naked, handcuffed girl stumbled up the
corridor stopping in front of a yellow painted locker. Someone had
scratched their initials into the paint. KR + DS.
She waited off to the side.
He touched her locker with his hand, almost caressing the surface.
"I'll open it, if you want. There isn't much in there, but you can
have it. Just please, don't hurt Karen any more. Punish me, if you
have to." She tried to stop babbling, but her mouth refused to
listen.
"Sit," he ordered.
Kate slowly lowered herself first to her knees, then to her bottom.
Without thinking, she folded her legs into a cross-legged position.
She was exposed, but she didn't care. Not anymore. Maybe seeing her
like this would calm him. She shouldn't have yelled, no matter how
hungry she was. It wasn't as if she was in danger of starving.
Impulsive. Always impulsive.
It simply seemed so unfair. She didn't even have enough control to
eat when she wanted to.
It was simply so damn unfair. She pulled at the bands of metal
around her wrists.
"Against the lockers."
She shuffled until her bare back connected with her own locker. The
metal was cool between her shoulder blades. The pack lay near her
feet; she'd dropped it as she lowered herself to the floor. The
cool of the marble seeped into her feet, legs and bottom.
He crouched.
"Are you? Are you going to punish me?" Kate asked.
He smiled and shook his head.
"I yelled at you."
"Do you want me to punish you?"
(Yes)
(NO)
She shook her head. Her nipples ached, and her sex throbbed.
Carefully, she unfolded her legs, and tucked them more ladylike to
the side.
"I'm finished with Karen, you know?"
"Thank you."
"When we're done here, I'll let her go. I won't hurt her anymore."
"Because I promised to stay with you?"
He shook his head. "Kate, if I wanted you to stay, I could have
forced you to. No, I'm letting Karen go because it's time to."
His words reinforced the fact that she had no control. Not here.
Saving Karen was an illusion. She knew that, but didn't want to
think about it.
"What about me?"
"I think I need to keep you for a while."
"I want to go home," Kate said quietly.
"I know you do. But you won't be alone with me much longer."
Kate looked up sharply. She didn't like the sound of that.
"I'm not enough? Hurting me isn't enough?"
"What do you think?"
Kate sighed. She knew the answer to that. He seemed so normal. But
he liked to control girls. And so here she sat, naked, handcuffed,
afraid, and controlled.
Her clitoris throbbed again.
(Why? Please, why?)
"I don't want this."
He seemed to know what she was talking about. Not her captivity, not
her nudity, not his control of her. Her response to it.
He moved forward, and wrapped the girl in his arms. She didn't
resist, but allowed her head to fall against his shoulder. She
hated herself for doing it, but she wept there for a long time.
"I don't want this," she repeated.
(No, I don't.)
At last, he released her, and moved back. She sat up straight
against the lockers, uncaring if he could see her breasts, her sex,
her body. She belonged to him, at least for now.
"I'm so alone."
He smiled gently.
"Not for long, Kate. Not for long."
And while she didn't wish this on anyone, she did want someone.
Even Karen, who she still felt that she'd saved. Somehow.
<---===***===--->
She sat easily in the grass. The remnants of an old autumn leaf lay
forgotten in the grass near her bare foot.
Her arms encircled the oak behind her, the handcuffs not biting with
any real strength into her wrists. Another pair of handcuffs graced
her slender ankles. It didn't feel like her anymore, some stranger
sat in the grass naked and bound for another stranger's enjoyment.
"Let me go?" Kate implored to the man towering over her.
"I can't."
Kate lowered her head.
"At least let me dress. Even just my underwear? I don't like being
naked. I'm a human being. Just like you."
(Not just like you. No. Not just like you.)
His face was at her level; he crouched easily beside her.
"Kate, you look fantastic naked. You have nothing to be ashamed of."
"Shouldn't that be my choice?" she asked, looking at him. His eyes,
as usual, held hers. Even as she said it, she knew the answer to
that. Not anymore.
(Why am I naked if he isn't even going to look at me?)
"Kate, you lost choice, long ago, except those that I give to you."
She flushed then.
"Please? Just my panties? I'll go topless. Happily."
He smiled and stroked her red hair.
"I have things to do." He rose back to his feet and turned back
towards the school.
"Sir?"
He turned, impatience on his features.
"You aren't getting dressed. I like you naked." His voice carried an
edge of gruffness.
"I know," she whispered. "But ... I just wanted to ask you something
else."
"We'll eat later. I won't let you starve." His voice carried a
definite note of impatience now.
"Please, don't hurt anyone else."
He smiled, and turned away. She watched until he disappeared back
into the school, the door closing with an air of finality. She
pulled against her restraints in futility.
"Please, don't hurt anyone else."
But nobody was listening any more.
She cried for a while, forced to simply let the tears fall from her
cheeks to kiss her bare breasts. Then, surprising even her, her lids
closed, and she slipped into a dreamless slumber.
Chapter 37
© Copyright 2003 -
Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved
Dawn awoke with a scream, her dreams haunted by odd images. Sexual
images. Kelly crying, her nipples pinched by clothespins, her hands
bound behind her back. Black nail polish, bare ankles chained
together, a toe ring sparkling.
The arousal was back, but it wasn't heavy, not like in the class
room. No. Not that bad. Dawn willed away the throbbing between her
legs, and her clitoris obeyed, at least for now.
(Who the hell is Kelly?)
Dawn stood in the corridor, and stretched. Her joints cracked, and
her muscles protested, but she felt more rested. She hadn't slept
long, she was sure, and the hallway was far from comfortable. A kink
had developed in her neck, and her shoulders felt like cattle had
danced on them.
She stumbled towards the younger student hurrying somewhere. Dawn
wondered where, somehow knew that she wasn't supposed to be standing
here, should be writing about the Horsehead Nebula, and Time
constants.
The girl was frozen. Dawn avoided touching her, but circled her
slowly.
(What would she look like naked?)
Dawn fought off the attendant tingles, and slowly walked towards the
front of the school abandoning the girl without trying to animate
her. Dawn sighed. She hoped that one of the front doors had been
open, perhaps someone coming in or out, but her luck remained poor.
She stood in front of the glass doors, unsure of what she should do
next. The doors refused to yield to the touch of her palm against
the glass.
(Go outside, might be a start. Go home?)
The outside world was as strange and eerie as the inside one.
Leaves didn't flutter on non-existent wind. Pedestrians stopped
mid-stride. Cars, on the far away road frozen in time. A bicyclist
balanced on two wheels, no gyroscopic forces of motion to hold her
balance.
"Hello?"
She paused, feeling silly.
"Is anyone here?"
(Face it Dawnie, you're alone here.)
But there was at least two other people, weren't there? Kelly, and
the Timeman, right?
She didn't know how to find them, didn't know what she was going to
do.
(Damn.)
She concentrated on the glass in front of her, extending her bubble
towards it. It touched the glass, and stopped. She pushed harder,
willing it.
(I got out of the room, I can get out of this damn school.)
The glass refused to mesh with the bubble, and after a moment, she
gave up. The bubble snapped back to fit her body like a glove.
Slowly she sat down, crossing her legs. Her nipples throbbed.
(I can't masturbate every time I need to open a door.)
She lay down and stared at the ceiling. Unconsciously, she snatched
her hand from her breast.
(No)
She rose, anger rushing through her. Anger at herself, anger at the
unknown Timeman, anger at her helplessness.
With a burst of energy she thrust the bubble out towards the glass.
This time, the bubble rushed outwards, intersecting with the glass
and beyond. Instead of opening the door, the glass shattered,
hurting her ears. The bubble continued, bending through the glass,
encompassing a space of about ten square metres. She felt it bump up
against a girl, an Asian girl with long black hair falling straight
below her shoulders. She pushed again, and the bubble meshed with
the girl, for a moment. Dawn could see her hair ruffle, and her foot
descend.
But only for a second, hardly long enough to be sure that it had
happened.
(I CAN do it!)
Then the bubble retreated until it stabilised around Dawn and the
empty space beyond the glass in front of her. She could sense the
bubble, and where it lay, almost as if she could see a soap bubble
floating on the wind. It wasn't sight, exactly, but a sense, almost
like touch.
A great fatigue engulfed Dawn, as if she'd run a marathon, or
perhaps two -- without training. Exhausted, she sank slowly to her
knees, trying to maintain the extended bubble.
If it snapped back, the door would return to its former state, she
was sure.
(Stay conscious.)
She reached forward and picked carefully at some of the jagged
shards of glass that remained embedded into the doorframe.
"Shit," Dawn exclaimed as one punctured her skin. A drop of blood
welled up from her left index finger. She popped it in her mouth and
sucked. It reminded her of John, and his intent before she'd stopped
him. In anger.
"Shit," she mumbled again around her wounded finger.
Carefully, she rose, and stepping sideways, she gingerly eased her
body through the opening in the door. The glass was thick and sharp
-- safety glass. If she'd struck it with her hand, it would never
have broken, even if it hadn't been frozen in time. Not like this.
(I did that? With my mind?)
Once outside, she picked her way through the glass and found a clear
spot devoid of shards. She sank back to her knees. The concrete was
cool and rough beneath her.
(Great. Angry or masturbation. Fuck. What a choice.)
She was betting that the Timeman didn't have things this hard. She
lay back, letting the sun beat down on her, and allowed her time
bubble to collapse again.
When she propped herself up, the door was intact again, as if she'd
never broken it. The Asian girl remained in her former position,
unaware of Dawn or the strange new world.
Slowly, tiredly, Dawn rose to her feet. Her body ached, and she
wanted sex.
(No. Ache, yes. Sex, no. Please, no.)
The arousal listened to her, and she managed to reduce the heat
building between her legs.
(Clothespins)
(No)
She stepped forward, concentrating on putting one sneaker in front
of the other.
<---===***===--->
She rested on the park bench, uncaring of what anyone thought. There
was nobody to see her. She stretched out, ignoring the old man
sitting on the other end, caught feeding pigeons. She'd had to dance
around the frozen birds to get to the unoccupied portion of the
bench.
Without consciously deciding, she let her mind sense the universe
around her. The smoky blue clouds solidified and swirled around
her. It was as if she'd been pulled into it, her tired mind
unresisting.
Four tennis balls
(Four???)
appeared, further away than the first two had. She snapped
from the trance.
(Dawnie, you don't want to do that.)
(I do.)
(No. You don't. What do you think he's doing now? There are
four. FOUR.)
Dawn sighed.
"I know," she whispered to nobody in particular.
Instinctively, she knew that none of those balls were Kelly. The
Timeman, he was the largest of the balls, the smoke of the universe
swirling easily around the curves of its surface. The smaller balls
spun more slowly. She watched from a distance, for a while.
Her breath came in ragged spurts, fear infusing her. She wasn't sure
that she wanted to see what was going on, didn't want to feel
whatever the participants felt.
On the bench, she sat up, pulling her feet in and hugging her knees.
The pigeons at the foot of the bench paid her no heed.
She inhaled deeply, and plunged.
A chain, with a padlock, encircled her throat. The padlock fell into
the hollow of her collarbone, gently rocking there. She didn't have
the key, and couldn't talk. Irrationally, her fingers rose to her
own throat to ensure that she wasn't actually chained like an
animal. If she fell, she would die, wouldn't she?
She was dressed, could feel a skirt fluttering against her thighs as
the girl shifted her weight.
(Why? Chained?)
Handcuffs. By now, the sensation of the bonds on her wrists was too
familiar to ignore. On the bench, the girl through the haze held up
her own unfettered wrists. An illusion. But her nipples throbbed
anyway.
(No.)
A girl, a pretty blonde, crying, was removing her clothing, standing
in fear in front of a gun. She dropped to her hands and knees, and
crawled, the Timeman's hand entwined in her hair like a leash.
Dawn's clitoris and vagina clenched and she squeezed her thighs
together.
(Pull back. Now.)
With an act of will, she extracted herself. The old man gradually
refocused. Faint, Dawn tried to regain her breath. The girl with the
chain around her throat was named Kate, and the crawling naked girl
was named Karen. The guy had a thing for girls whose names started
with 'K'.
Her body tingled, especially her nipples. Absently, her fingers
massaged her breasts through her clothing, gasping slightly at the
real stimulation.
(Dawnie, you knew that this was going to happen.)
(Why is he *doing* this?)
(Sex. Now.)
(NO)
Dawn stretched back out on the bench, trying to make sense of the
images. She closed her eyes, half trying to place the location, half
trying to ignore her own body. It was a school. The girls were high
school age. Kate and Karen.
(Who was the fourth ball?)
She had only seen three people moving.
(Have to go back, Dawn. Have to.)
She stared up into the blue of the sky for a while. Every few
minutes, she had to pull her hand from her breasts. Her face
flushed, each time, though she was reasonably sure that she could
strip naked, and dance
(Oh yes)
in front of the pigeon man, and he would take no notice.
The joggers on the path, the children in the playground, the dogs
running free through the grass would all ignore her.
Without warning she was pulled. There was no conscious decision, and
that scared her. But she was back, rushing past the spinning tennis
balls in the smoke, back into Kate's consciousness. She didn't know
if Kate knew she was there, but she doubted it. Kate's thoughts
didn't seem to change with her presence.
(No!)
Cigarettes. The girl on the bench wrinkled her nose. Cigarettes
turned her off -- wouldn't even consider dating anyone that smoked.
Karen was bound tightly to a birch tree, her breasts bound.
(Thank God you didn't bounce into her.)
The guy with the gun lit two cigarettes dangling from the girl's
lips. Then he taped the cigarettes to her breasts, the silver
squares of tape shining in the sun. The girl was screaming, though
the lit part of the cigarettes weren't anywhere near her nipples.
Yet.
Dawn's nipples crinkled beneath her clothing. Dimly, she was aware
of them, somewhere far away sitting on a bench.
Dawn called out to the Timeman, though the voice wasn't hers.
Dimly, she realised that the impulse to speak wasn't her, either.
Kate had called.
"Sir?"
"If you take those damn things off her breasts, I'll. I'll strip
and crawl for you. I'll suck you, and I'll fuck you silly. Whatever
it takes. You can spank me, instead. If you have to, you can burn
me. Let her go. Please."
Dawn's nipples ached, and her vagina clenched at the words.
(Dammit, pull out.)
She shoved, and gasped. The bench re-solidified, and the old man
reappeared in the sunshine.
Tears streamed down her face. She wanted to have sex, even with the
Timeman. Anyone.
(Sex.)
She closed her eyes, and concentrated on physics. It didn't help,
any more than she'd been able to control her own response in the
classroom, but she resolved to keep her hands to herself. She
didn't have to open a door, didn't have to concentrate. Not yet.
(It would be so easy. Touch yourself, Dawn.)
(NO!)
After a time, she was pulled again. The lack of control terrified
her. The bench faded, and the blue smoke reappeared.
She'd had to strip. In front of the boy chained to the wall. She
hated the guy, though it was far clearer to her, than to Kate. She
knelt, naked and helpless at the boy's feet.
God, she didn't want to, but her hand rose, massaging the hardened
penis through ... Darren's ... the guy's name was Darren ... jeans.
She wanted to throw up, but her hand continued to stroke, feeling
him writhe happily beneath her fingers.
(John.)
(John hit me, and was going to rape me.)
(It would have been sex.)
(I don't WANT sex. Not now.)
Darren was going to explode, his hips bucking. The Timeman touched
her shoulder.
(No!)
The park and the bench reappeared. This time, Dawn simply closed her
eyes, hands gripping the waistband of her jeans. It reminded her of
where she was, and where they were. She wanted to wash her hands,
but dimly she knew that she didn't have to. It was Kate's fingers
that had touched Darren, not her.
(I don't want to go again.)
(Listen, Pandora, you wanted to see. Sleep in your bed.)
(Please no.)
Her breathing had almost returned to normal when she felt a gentle
heat beneath her breasts. The heat aroused her, even further. Her
breasts felt restricted, as did her hands, even though they remained
gripped into the belt loops of her jeans.
She opened her eyes. A pink lighter passed beneath her breasts.
Ropes encircled them, naked and jutting obscenely from her chest.
Except it wasn't her chest.
Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she was insanely glad that the
cigarettes weren't taped to her nipples.
(Cigarettes? Nipples?)
A spasm, far too close to an orgasm, rippled through her. A breath
on her clitoris, on the bench, would set her off, she was sure. She
forced her hands, the ones that weren't bound painfully behind the
tree, to grip the belt loops to the tearing point.
(No.)
She could taste Karen on her lips, and the taste was sweet.
(Karen?)
And her lungs burned.
(Because I've been forced to smoke???)
"Please spank me. Please."
When she looked up, he was holding a branch.
Agony sank into Dawn's breasts, a stripe across the tops of her
breasts, and another, worse, below. She screamed, babbled with Kate,
as she sat safe and rocking on the bench.
The images faded, but the pain remained in her breasts. She cradled
them, as best she could, while she rocked slowly, trying to control
the pain and the resulting arousal.
Her hand stole down, and jammed into the fork of her thighs. She
rocked, and squeezed.
(I'm. I'm. I'm going to ...)
She snatched her hand back, and moaned as her body protested.
(No!)
Her breasts ached, and her clitoris screamed.
(Please.)
She moaned again, and lay down. Her head touched the solidity of the
old man's thigh, and she recoiled a little. But it didn't dampen the
symphony of her nerves.
(Handcuffs)
(Chains)
(Branches)
(Fire)
Tears rolled down her cheeks, and her breasts throbbed, but her
fingers held tightly to her waist.
Chapter 38
© Copyright 2003 -
Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved
He glanced back at Kate, through the glass of the front doors of the
school. The bound, naked, girl sat quietly under the oak to which
he'd tied her, her legs curled up beside her in a pose that he found
familiar. Karen had curled up in a similar pose, attached to the
birch tree out back of the school.
Kate had watched him leave, he could feel her eyes on his back as he
moved, but once he'd passed through the glass of the entrance, the
glare probably hid him from her view. At last, she lay her head
back against the bark of her prison, her sigh inaudible to him.
Slowly, he turned away from her, and began to retrace his steps
where the girl had led him previously.
The corridors teemed with students. He'd noticed them on his
previous jaunt through the halls with Kate, but truthfully, he'd
been watching her more than his surroundings. The girl was
wonderful, far more mature than her years. Feisty, and independent,
and beautiful enough to be a model. The girl thought herself the
inferior of Karen, at least physically, but that red hair, and the
body. In no way was Kate inferior to Karen. Karen was caring, yes,
and docile. Beautiful, undoubtedly. But Kate, she was the enigma.
Making her strip had been so much more satisfying than her friend.
He stopped for a moment, almost ready to turn around and bring the
naked girl to him. He shook his head. The light from the entrance of
the school bounced towards him. She was back there, available, and
helpless.
No.
He turned back towards the classes. He knew what he was driven to
do.
He recognised Kate's locker as he passed it. The yellow paint shone
with its own light. He traced her initials, where they were carved
into the paint in a half-heart engraving. DR?? Darren?
He doubted that.
The hairs tickled the back of his neck. Eyes bored into his back,
about where his shoulder blades were.
Darren? Free?
Kate?
Karen?
He whirled.
Only shadows.
"Kate?" he asked. If that girl had managed to get free and was
playing games with him, she'd regret it.
"Kate?" he called a little louder.
Silence responded, his voice not even echoing from the close walls.
He was tempted to run back, ensure that the girl remained bound to
the oak.
There was nobody there. Silly.
He leaned back against Kate's locker, and slid slowly to the ground,
massaging his temples. With a touch of concentration, he could sense
the girls. Kate, and Karen. Darren's bubble remained on the
timeline, too, but fainter. The boy remained where he'd been bound,
probably still unconscious.
Who, then?
A girl, watching him, her face turned against painted wood. He could
see her image, faintly but real. The girl sat on a park bench, no,
was lying on a park bench, grasping her waist, as if in pain. An old
man sat frozen, feeding pigeons.
The girl's chest rose and fell rapidly, as if she had run a
marathon, or had recently been laid. The old man remained
motionless, unbreathing and unseeing. She was looking at him, her
eyes frightened and intelligent, but he doubted if she could
actually see him. That didn't seem right.
And suddenly, he knew. The girl was aroused, and frightened.
Her streaked blonde hair tumbled nearly to the ground off the edge of the
bench, and it moved with the slight shift of her body.
He gently pushed mentally, flowing towards her, like swimming in a
great pond of molasses.
Who was she?
Was she real?
As he pushed towards her, the image began to fade.
"No!"
The image fled, like a dream, before he could try to understand.
Casting about in the universal lines of time didn't help him. There
was an anomaly, and he could sense it -- time bending outside of his
influence.
The girl?
She seemed harmless -- frightened and alone in a strange world.
He'd find her, if he could. If only to figure out how his time
control had missed her. She probably couldn't survive here without
his help.
If she were real. Maybe his mind had made up the image in response to
stress? The equations did say that fatigue could cause
hallucinations here, didn't they? It was one of the things that had
made him hesitate before bringing the condition back into the world.
But even if she were here with him, impossibly on this timeline with
him, she'd survive for a while by herself, and for now, he had
things to do. Rest among them. Even if the girl were real, he was
sure that she couldn't hurt him or his plans. In fact, she might fit
into them nicely. Oh yes.
She had been attractive.
If she were real.
He sighed, mind spinning.
Slowly, he pushed himself up the locker to his feet. The metal of
the locker slid easily up his shirt as he lifted.
Smiling, he cast the strange image of the girl from his head, and
began to walk. A black girl stood with a group of her coloured
friends, animatedly talking about something. Across the hall, a
coloured boy wearing a ridiculous looking headscarf leered at her.
The girl didn't seem to notice.
Further up the hall, a petite blonde -- not as beautiful as Kate or
Karen -- talked seriously with a tall boy sporting a mullet. The
Timeman walked around the girl. Her lips full, and her body sensuous
beneath her frozen clothing, he admired her. Wanted her. For a
second.
He blinked, his eyelids grainy.
No. Not her.
He walked on. Groups of teens, in various costumes populated the
corridor.
At last he arrived at the green painted doorway. He hesitated a
moment.
Did he want to do this? Kate and Karen. Weren't they enough?
He shook his head. He wasn't really driving this, was he?
Absolute power. Right?
Wrong.
He waited for a moment, troubled, hand resting on the chrome knob of
the door.
He was beginning to care again.
Control.
Kate was intriguing, her obvious masochism, her fight to control it.
Her body betrayed her -- he'd seen such things before. A girl named
Jane, in another time and another place. And Elizabeth, as well, to
a lessor degree.
And he wanted to control Kate. Control her. Hurt her. Give her what
she wanted in this place outside of time. She wouldn't remember, no,
but here and now, she could find herself.
That's all you want for her?
He smiled and shook his head. Wouldn't be worth it all, would it?
Why Karen?
Because she was convenient, and damn beautiful to watch crawling,
and scared. He shook his head. In this time and place, he could
afford such pastimes. Once he let her go, she hadn't done any of
that. Had she? Existence presupposed time.
Paradox.
His mind slipped to Sandra, crawling, naked, and vulnerable.
Suddenly, he wished that he'd tied her. Of course, he'd had nothing
to tie her with, but he wanted to see the manager tied into a chair,
helpless, nude.
And Kelly. The clothespins, and her pain. She'd done what he wanted.
Oh yes. And her struggle at the end. Transforming herself from
depression and blackness, to beauty, inner and exterior. He wanted
to go back and get her, show her what she could become.
No. Kate, yes, but the rest didn't need to be here. Not yet.
Surprised, he realised that he had sunk and was sitting on the
floor. His head cradled in his hands, he blinked.
Nearly fell asleep. Can't. Not yet.
He pushed himself to his feet, blinking rapidly. It had been a long
day already. Four women, and two still out there. Darren wasn't
even worth thinking about.
He swayed for a moment on his feet, and then glanced around the
hallway. Students ignored him, frozen into the poses in which they
had been at 12:18:47.
He licked his lips. His pack lay at his feet where he'd dropped it
before he'd lowered himself to the floor. He picked it up.
Absolute power.
He turned the chrome under his palm and pushed the door open.
Chapter 39
© Copyright 2003 -
Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved
Slowly, he walked around the classroom, purposely avoiding a certain
student rising from her desk. The teacher looked like she was barely
out of teacher's college, perhaps twenty-six. Her body was trim,
and her brunette hair fell loosely about midway down her back. She'd
been caught a few paces from her desk, her gaze fixed on her chair.
Triangles dotted the chalkboard. A few of the closer students were
busily taking notes while the remainder were either rising, or had
risen and were making their way to the entranceway.
He glanced around. There were a number of pretty girls that he could
use. An Asian girl with long black straight hair was nearly at the
door. A taller girl, her hair short and spiky, but with nice breasts
and long legs, appeared to be ready to slip out of her desk.
The desk directly in front of the brunette girl caught half-way from
her seat had already been vacated -- or had been empty to begin
with.
He slipped into the uncomfortable chair, sitting backwards, resting
his chin on his hands. He finally allowed himself to look at her.
She dressed conservatively in loose jeans, and a T-shirt which hid
her form. He suspected that she was shy of her body, but that it was
nothing to be shy about. The girl wore her hair in a simple braid,
with some hair escaping to tumble down the side of her face. She'd
never be a model, not like Kate could be, but her face had fine
structure, her cheeks and eyes alive and intelligent. She looked
somewhat tall, and slim, her breasts, hidden by her shirt for now,
didn't seem overly large. Not more than a mouthful, but they suited
her frame. Or so he thought.
The girl looked like she might be in a hurry to get somewhere.
Idly, he wondered where she needed to be. She probably would be
making a detour. The thought brought a wry smile to his lips.
"Leigh," he said quietly to her unresponsive face.
He glanced around once more. Slowly, he pulled the gun from the
small of his back, thumbing off the safety. If what Kate said was
true, this girl would probably be smart enough that he wouldn't have
to demonstrate that the gun worked, but sometimes they panicked.
He'd seen that before, too, no matter how smart they were.
He'd have to demonstrate for her, if he wanted her to obey, but not
yet, and probably not with the gun. He mostly wanted to talk to her.
At first.
He concentrated, letting the gun dangle easily from his entwined
fingers under his chin. The bubble extended smoothly, and he felt
the ripple of time pass through him as her space joined his.
<---===***===--->
Leigh continued to rise as if she were still going to rush towards
the cafeteria. Her mind grasped that there was something strange
with the world a moment later, and she banged her knee into her desk
in surprise.
Out of the corner of her eye, a tall, dark man had appeared in
Chad's desk, sitting backwards in the chair. A piece of chrome
dangled from his fingers. Her mind refused to acknowledge what that
chrome was -- this school had a zero-tolerance policy on weapons on
the property.
The silence descended on her like a press, the frozen images of her
classmates haunting her retinas. The only other movement, but for
her own, was the slow pendulum of the chrome from the strange man in
front of her.
Instinctually, she turned towards him, catching her breath.
Yes, he was dangling a handgun. She didn't know anything about
handguns, except that she didn't like them. Not at all.
"Sit back down, Leigh," the man said.
The unexpected sound of his voice startled her, and she screamed.
The scream sounded low and flat.
Instead of sitting, Leigh glanced towards the door. Way too far.
He'd shoot her before she took two steps. She rotated slowly.
Nobody else but Leigh and the gunman.
"What's going on here?" she asked quietly.
He smiled. When she looked down at him, the gun became more obvious.
It looked like it was trained pretty much at her heart.
Leigh swallowed quickly.
"What do you want?"
He motioned with the gun for her to sit. Without taking her eyes
from the weapon, she slipped back into her seat, allowing her books
to fall to the scarred surface of the desk.
"Hands on the desk."
Slowly, Leigh complied, placing her palms on the fake wood of the
top of the desk and spreading her fingers.
"You don't have to point that at me."
He shrugged, but left it trained on her anyway. The barrel seemed to
be pointing more towards her throat, now. Leigh trembled a little.
"How do you know my name?" Leigh ventured.
He laughed. "I have my ways. Aren't you going to offer me money? To
let you go?"
The question seemed odd to Leigh, but she shrugged slowly. Always
slowly.
"I don't have any money. If you want money, then you've kidnapped
the wrong girl."
The gunman laughed and slowly lowered the gun. But it was obvious
that he could train it on her and shoot her well before she could
get to him. She sat quietly for a moment, trying to calm her racing
heart.
"What do you want?" she asked.
"Isn't that obvious?"
Leigh glanced around. Just the two of them, in a sea of
motionlessness. She didn't have anything worth taking, except for
...
"Me?"
He reached forward and patted her right hand, still splayed on the
desk. She pulled her fingers back from the touch.
"Smart girl," he murmured. He didn't seem offended by her movement.
When he withdrew his hand, she shifted her hand back to its original
position, visible for him and non-threatening.
"Why me? What's happening here?"
"All in good time, Leigh. All in good time."
She stared at him, hoping that her frightened eyes actually looked
more hateful than she was capable.
After a moment, she broke the stare and glanced down at her fingers.
No nail polish graced her longer finger nails. The length of her
finger nails were about the only concession that she made to
society's norms for female beauty. She wore no makeup, and didn't
dress to kill. She didn't need those things.
"Where were you going?" he asked. His voice carried a note of
threat, even though it was soft and low.
"Lunch," she answered.
He nodded.
"Seemed to be in a hurry."
"Before you waved a gun at me."
He smiled.
"Yes, before I waved a gun at you."
"I was going to meet some friends. Play some Euchre. I guess that
plan is moot, now."
He nodded slowly. He waved the gun towards the front of the class.
"That your teacher?"
Leigh nodded.
"Miss Chambers. She's actually a substitute, she normally teaches
gym class. Everyone seemed to like her. Is she dead? Are they all
dead?"
"They aren't dead, Leigh. Just ... frozen."
That didn't make much sense to her, but it sounded better than dead.
"What are you going to do with me?"
His eyes glowed, as if he had many unspeakable plans for her. She
was sure that he did.
"Don't know yet."
"Yes, you do," she said. "Are you going to rape me?"
He shook his head negatively, and she believed him.
"Then why? Why me?"
He shrugged.
She inhaled deeply. "Whatever it is you want from me or with me, if
you don't tell me, how can I do it?"
"You're doing it already."
She raised her eyebrows.
"Look. I'm scared. And frightened. And I just want to do whatever it
is you want, so you'll let me go. Okay?"
He grinned.
"Would you strip for me?"
She hesitated.
"I thought you weren't going to rape me."
"I'm not."
She looked confused for a moment, but then shook her head no.
"I won't strip for you. Why would you want me stripped?"
He ignored the question, but the gun became more steady, vaguely
pointing in her direction. There was no mistaking the threat.
"If I said that I'd shoot you? Would you take your clothing off for
me?"
"No. You'd have to cut my clothes off, if you want me like that. Or
you'd have to shoot me."
He smiled, as if relishing the thought -- though whether it was the
thought of cutting her clothes off, or the thought of actually
shooting her, she didn't know. She shivered. This man could do it,
she was sure, snipping her clothing off, one piece at a time. Or he
could shoot her, pulling the trigger without a second glance at her.
"I'd scream. I haven't yet."
"Look around, Leigh. You're a smart girl. Do you think screaming
would help?"
"Couldn't hurt. Maybe only this classroom is frozen. You might shoot
me, but you'd be caught."
He laughed. "I won't shoot you. Scream if you want."
She didn't.
"Good girl," he said. "The entire world is frozen. Well, if you
screamed loud enough, perhaps a couple of people might hear you, but
it wouldn't do you, or them, any good."
That didn't make a whole lot of sense either, but she accepted it.
Screaming didn't seem her best option anyway.
"How about something a little more mundane?"
"What? You want me to dance for you?"
She didn't know where the comment had come from, but it popped out
of her mouth before she could stop it. Her fingers flexed for a
moment against the desk. Great. Give the bastard ideas.
He smiled, telling her that she very well might dance for him before
her stay with him was through.
"How about your shoes?"
"My shoes?"
"Would you take off your shoes?"
Leigh glanced down. Her runners were dusty, barely any vestige of
their former colour visible.
"Why do you want my shoes?"
He shrugged. "Better than all of your clothes, isn't it?"
Better than being shot.
Slowly, she used her toes to slip her worn runners from her feet.
The marble tile of the classroom was cool beneath her stocking feet.
"Socks?"
"Don't push your luck," she said as calmly as she could.
She kicked her shoes towards him, watching him. One of her shoes
tumbled into the aisle beside the desk where it sat there like a
lonely dove. He glanced down at the runner and smiled gently.
"Keep your socks, for now."
She nodded. Her belly tightened for a moment, a sinking feeling that
she would be without her socks, and a lot more, before much longer.
Somehow.
Keeping one eye on her, he bent and unzipped a blue backpack that
she hadn't noticed before. His hand emerged with a pair of
handcuffs. He carefully laid them across her spread hands. She
shivered at the caress of the cold metal.
"I'm not going to willingly let you put them on me," she said
quietly.
"Is it worth a bullet?"
She looked up sharply.
The gun levelled again at her temple.
"Shoot me, then."
He sighed, and lowered the gun. She sat still as he pressed the
barrel into her shoulder. She shuddered at the touch, but didn't
move away.
"Have you ever been shot before?"
"No."
"It hurts. Trust me."
"Have you ever been shot?" she tried to keep her voice from
faltering, but her heart was hammering in her chest faster than a
locomotive.
He shook his head. "But I've seen girls shot in joints before."
Leigh paled.
"They screamed. A long time."
She felt like throwing up.
"But at least you'd let me go."
He smiled.
"Oh no, Leigh, no, no. We'd simply start all over again, and I'd
find something that would make you put those handcuffs on."
(Again?)
"What?"
"Be a good girl and put them on."
"If I put them on, then you could do anything to me that you wanted.
I wouldn't be able to stop you."
"Leigh. I can do anything I want to now."
She didn't understand, but she nodded anyway.
"Now, do you want to feel a bullet shatter your shoulder? Or do you
want to do this the easy way?"
She stared ahead for a moment. Call his bluff? Or not? The price
was heavy if he wasn't bluffing.
"How long?"
"How long, what?"
"How long will I have to wear them?"
"Until I let you out."
Leigh sighed. Her mind whirled. If he shot her, she wouldn't be able
to stop him from handcuffing her anyway. Only she'd be in agony, she
was sure.
"You won't rape me? Cut off my clothes?"
"Don't be silly. You'll take off your clothes for me. I won't need
to cut them off."
"I won't."
"You will. But even when you're as naked as the day you were born, I
won't rape you. At least not in a classic sense."
What did that mean? She didn't know and definitely didn't want to
find out.
"So you want to see me in these?" She picked up the cuffs slowly and
dangled them from her right index finger. "If I do this, you won't
hurt me while I'm bound?"
He shook his head.
"Put the gun down."
He hesitated, but moved the weapon from pressing into her shoulder.
She wrapped one of the cuffs around her left wrist, and shuttered
the clasp closed.
"You have a key to these things, right?"
He nodded, and dug in a pocket. He held up a small shiny key. It
sparkled in the lights of the classroom.
She began to close the right cuff awkwardly with her bound left
hand. He stopped her.
"Behind your back."
"No way."
"Leigh, I won't lie to you. I want to see you wearing them. But, it
serves another purpose. If your hands are behind you, then I don't
need this," and he waved the gun in front of her eyes. "You cease to
be a viable physical threat. I can put it away, and stop pointing
it at your pretty face."
She sighed. "You'll stop waving it around if I do this?"
He nodded, placing it behind him somewhere out of her sight. She
was sure that he could grab it faster than she could gouge his eyes
out, but at least it wouldn't shoot her accidentally. Would it?
She sighed again, and awkwardly placed her hands behind her.
"I can't close them back there."
"Yes, you can. Try."
She tried. With effort, she was able to close the right cuff around
her right wrist. She didn't tighten it into her skin, but discovered
that she couldn't remove her wrist even with it loose. She'd never
worn handcuffs before.
"There. Is that enough?"
"Can you get your hands out?"
"No."
"Then it's enough. Stand up."
Leigh hesitated, didn't like following his orders. After a moment,
she pushed herself up awkwardly. To her surprise, as her hands
fought the chain and metal holding them, a trickle of electricity
wandered through her. Her nipples sang, and her clitoris grumbled.
(What the?)
She shifted awkwardly, and stepped into the aisle. Her shoe greeted
her. Her socks felt slippery against the floor.
"What now?" she asked.
Chapter 40
© Copyright 2003 -
Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved
He'd been silent for a while. The corridors were in the same
condition as the math classroom -- silent and eerie. Leigh shivered
as she walked in her stocking feet, slightly ahead of him. She knew
most of the students caught in some state of frozen animation. She
wished that she had been allowed freedom of her hands so that she
could touch one of the frozen people.
(Was I like that, too?)
But the handcuffs kept her hands out of action, for now, and she
walked along silently, listening to her own soft footsteps and the
tapping of his running shoes slightly behind her.
"Where's your locker, Leigh?"
She jumped a little at the sound of his voice.
"Why?"
"Because I want to see if you have any money tucked away there."
She stopped, and turned to face him. She was acutely aware, for some
reason, of her handcuffs and her stocking feet. Vulnerable.
She was a tall girl, but he was taller still. She approached five
foot nine, but he easily topped her by five inches, maybe six. Of
course, without shoes, she seemed that much shorter. She looked up
into his face.
"I told you, if you want money you've got the wrong girl. My
parents can barely pay their bills, much less a ransom."
He laughed.
"I was kidding Leigh. What would I need with money? I could walk
into any bank in the land, and take whatever I wanted. Nobody to
stop me."
She bit her lip. That made sense. That only left her as the prize.
And she didn't like that. Not one bit.
"I won't let you rape me. You'd better have tied me down a lot
better than this," she rattled the handcuffs behind her. "I'll bite.
I'll kick. I swear, I'll hurt you."
He smiled gently. "I'm sure you would, Leigh. I'm not going to rape
you. Strip you, yes, but rape you? No."
He really didn't seem perturbed by her claims to be able to hurt
him.
"I'm not going to let you strip me, you know."
He nodded. "I know."
It looked to Leigh like he was counting on resistance. She didn't
like the thought of that, but she wasn't about to let him cut her
clothes off, either. And she sure as hell wasn't going to
striptease for him.
"I won't."
He nodded, and gently turned her.
"Locker."
She turned left, past the girl's bathroom, and past the yearbook
planning room. Her locker was in the orange bank beside the English
department. This corridor was fairly clear of frozen students, most
either in the cafeteria already, or still stuck in Miss Chamber's
math class. Three girls gathered near the end of the locker bank.
Leigh recognised them, but only in passing.
Leigh silently wished that she was still in class or in the
cafeteria, too.
"That's it, there."
She nodded towards the dented locker. Some of her friends had dented
it as a prank. She sighed, remembering the guys hammering on it with
a textbook until the principal chased them off. She'd only remarked
that it was tough to see her locker. It was easier to find it, now.
"Combination?"
She hesitated.
"You have to be kidding. You're handcuffed there, you can't open it.
And what do you care if I see into your locker? I don't want to
break into it. Do you?"
"12, 43 and back to 55."
"Thank you," he said. He lowered the pack to the ground, and then
his fingers were spinning her lock.
Nobody else in the school, except the front office, knew her
combination.
In a moment, her locker door swung open. She leaned against the
opposite locker bank and watched as he riffled through the contents
of her locker. She didn't care. There wasn't anything of value
there. She didn't have anything of value: only some pictures
fastened with magnets to the door, and some school supplies, and
books. She had no idea what he was looking for.
Her bound hands pressed into the small of her back as she waited.
(I'm handcuffed. In school.)
Her nipples reacted, but not badly. She willed away the sensations.
(What the hell are you? A masochist?)
She didn't think so -- never had fantasies along those lines before.
(Fantasies about what then?)
(What he's doing. To me. But as HIM.)
(Then why are the handcuffs turning you on?)
(They aren't)
(Mhmmmm)
She shook her head in weak denial. He had risen and closed the door
to her locker. He wore an odd expression on his face, like he had
read her mind. She blushed.
"What were you thinking about?"
"If you'd ever let me go."
"I don't think I have a choice."
That wasn't an answer, but she didn't pursue the issue.
"Sit," he ordered her gently.
"Why?"
"Suit yourself. I just thought you'd be more comfortable."
He lowered himself to the floor. The lock on her locker dangled
unclasped from its hole. She watched it swing as he slid down her
locker.
After a moment, she carefully slid down the opposite locker, her
bound hands trying to guide her. She didn't know if she'd be able to
get back up, but she supposed that she could if pressed. She tucked
her legs beside her.
"Who are these people?"
He held up a picture, one of the few that she had under magnets
inside her locker. The sight of it in his hands made her angry, a
little. He didn't have any right to see it.
"Summer camp people. My family, and friends."
"Any from school?"
"Janice goes to school here."
He pointed at a slim girl, not as tall as Leigh, in the photo.
Leigh nodded.
"Can you put the picture back, please?"
She had a feeling that he wouldn't, that she really didn't have much
say in what happened with her and to her and her property. He was
toying with her, giving her a sense of normalcy in this strange
world.
"Why do you have it here? Stuck up in your locker?"
She hesitated. It wasn't any of his business, was it?
"They were happier times."
"You don't get along with Janice?"
Leigh nodded slowly. "No. I get along with Janice just fine, still."
He nodded. She watched as he twisted around, released the hanging
lock, and slipped the picture back under her magnet. She honestly
hadn't expected him to give it back to her. He closed the locker
again, and then shuffled towards her.
He held out the purplish bottle towards her.
"Will you wear some?"
She sighed. The bottle represented, perhaps, the most expensive
possession she had. She'd bought it because she liked the smell, and
a few boys in the group she'd been with in the mall had told her
that it suited her. Not boys she liked, but boys who normally didn't
notice her. This and the nails, the only real illusions to her
femininity.
She nodded, acquiescing to his request. She suspected that she
didn't really have a choice here, but that he'd allowed her one. If
he'd wanted to, he could have poured the contents over her head,
overpowering her with the fumes, and she couldn't really do a damn
thing about it. But this time, if she'd refused, she suspected that
he would have simply replaced the bottle in her locker.
The musky odour of the perfume wafted to tickle her nose.
Forgetting the handcuffs adorning her wrists, she automatically
tried to reach for the bottle.
With surprising gentleness, the guy with the gun touched the bottle
to his finger and applied only a hint to her throat. His touch sent
an involuntary shiver down her spine, and she willed it away. She
could imagine those hands closing around her throat just as easily
as applying perfume.
He carefully capped the bottle and slipped it into his pack. Her
Poison disappeared as he zipped up the pack.
(Hey! That's mine.)
(And it's going with you. Wherever that is.)
He settled back against Leigh's locker.
"What's going on here?" she asked quietly.
"Time control."
"What?"
"Time control. Everything, but you and I, is frozen in a time shift.
I control it. I control everything, in a way. What happens here,
doesn't."
Time control. That sort of made sense, though she couldn't
understand how he was controlling it.
"I was like them?"
He nodded, confirming what she'd already guessed.
"You freed me?"
He nodded again.
"Why? Why me?"
"You ... interest me."
She wasn't popular, worked hard to ensure that. She didn't join the
clubs, avoided friends. Friends asked questions, and wanted to come
over for dinner, didn't they?
"I'm not the best looking girl in the school, you know?"
"Are you the smartest?"
"Probably not."
"Would you rather if I searched out, say Kate Robertson? And took
her instead?"
The question unnerved her. Made her think. How did he even know Kate
Robertson? Leigh barely knew her. Well, everyone knew of her, but
girls like Leigh didn't socialise with girls like Kate, even if
Leigh was more ... into making and keeping friends.
Slowly she shook her head. She wouldn't wish this situation on her
worst enemy, much less any girl in this school. Kate was beautiful,
got any guy that she wanted, but Leigh didn't hate her, or begrudge
her her looks.
"How do you control time?" Leigh asked carefully. She doubted if
he'd tell her.
"Combination of thought and matter and space and time. It's not a
simple thing. Even Einstein got some of it wrong."
"Oh," she remarked. The physics was above her. Perhaps not in a few
years, but high school physics was ... limiting. Youth had its
disadvantages, sometimes.
"How long are you going to keep me?"
He smiled and didn't answer her.
"Are you going to kill me?"
She shivered. The thought sent bolts of fear down her spine. She'd
told him to shoot her in the classroom, but she didn't want to die.
"No, Leigh. I'm not going to kill you, or rape you." His voice was
infinitely patient, though she sensed that he might not have the
patience of a saint. He was testing her, she thought.
"Why do you have me then? What's the point? Why am I here?"
"I wish I knew."
"You don't know?"
He shook his head. The thought that he didn't know unsettled her a
little. She felt off balance -- wondered if that was exactly how she
was supposed to feel.
"Let me go? Please?"
"Not yet. Not yet."
She sighed. This conversation was going around in circles.
"What are you going to do with me?"
"Have you strip."
She didn't deny it this time.
"If you aren't going to rape me, why do you want me unclothed?"
"Why do you think?"
"Typical male?"
He nodded. "Girls look better without their clothing."
She shivered.
"Do you want to do this the hard way? Or the easy way?" he asked
quietly. She sensed that this was the crux of the issue. He was
giving her a chance. All she had to do was strip for him.
She shook her head.
"I'm not going to take my clothes off for you."
"The hard way," he said. He didn't sound disappointed. "I had a
feeling that would be the case."
"I'm not," she said with conviction.
"I know, Leigh. I know." He sounded tired. Exhausted, actually.
With that, he signalled the end of the conversation by rising. She
envied him his mobility as he motioned for her to rise to her feet.
She struggled with her hands, off balance both physically and
mentally. The cuffs impeded her. The bastard made no move to help
her.
At last, she crossed her ankles, and rose easily in one fluid
motion.
"I'm up."
"Are you scared, Leigh?" he asked.
She hesitated, glanced down towards her feet, wiggled her toes.
She slowly nodded, her eyes finding his. Surprised, she sensed
wetness forming in her lower lids. She blinked the unshed tears
away. Yes, she was scared. Out of her mind. But she'd survive. Had
to.
"Why can't I have shoes?" she asked quietly.
He smiled. "First step, Leigh."
That didn't make sense to her, but she suspected that it was a
reference to his insistence that she strip. Her removing her shoes
to the threat of the gun, was her first step to removing all her
clothing. She wished that she hadn't removed her shoes at all,
though she thought that maybe he wasn't hurting her, yet, because
she had. He would have shot her shoulder, if she'd refused. Somehow,
she knew. She felt helpless, and frustrated. Her nipples throbbed
in the background.
He murmured one more thought.
"I thought that you'd be more comfortable without them."
And strangely, she thought, she was. She hated shoes anyway.
He motioned her forward, and she stepped in front of him. Her socks
felt odd, in the middle of school. Not normal, and almost taboo. But
she walked forward anyway, one foot falling in front of the other,
her feet whispering as they walked.
|
