Dawning of The New Millennium

Morgan blinked as the hood was removed from her head. Where was she? How long had she been out? All she remembered was walking back from work last night, and being grabbed by someone from behind. Now she was on the floor of a dark, dry room lit only by candlelight.

Her wrists were tied together, as were her ankles. Then they -- whoever they were -- had tied her wrists to her ankles. It wasn't completely uncomfortable, but she wasn't going anywhere. She had worked the right wrist a little loose, but somehow she doubted she'd have time to do much more.

"At least they let me keep my clothes," she thought to herself. Although, they did stink. They had been sweaty *before* she'd been captured -- she'd been waitressing, and it was sweaty smelly work. She just *felt* dirty.

She couldn't look around much. There was some sort of collar on her neck that kept her face forward. She could probably rock to one side, but she thought better of it. Better to stay still, and keep working on the wrist. The floor -- and one wall, at least -- was smooth stone. She thought it might be a natural formation.

As she looked, trying to examine her environment someone in a long flowing beige robe passed in front of her. Whoever it was walked incredibly quietly. "Ahh, my dear, I see you are aware, now. I thought you were more dazed than that." He had a smooth, almost liquid voice, with just a trace of a British accent.

He moved in front of her, and bent down on one knee. The robe, although beige, was the kind you used to see monks or druids wear in movies. "Or Obi-Wan," she thought. The color was about right, and the accent. He hands reached around her and undid a clasp, releasing her neck. She moved it then -- it was incredibly stiff. She looked up at him. Old, wrinkly, grey. But with an inner light or power. Vital, that was the world.

"May the force be with you," she muttered, sarcastically.

He laughed heartily. "Welcome back, Morgan Laurel."

"You have me at a disadvantage..." They must have gotten to her ID's.

"A very large one, in fact. I'm Fortinbras." There was just something about him, his voice, his manner -- it soothed her, made her feel at ease. "You are Morgan Laurel, Honor Student. IQ 175 -- almost as high as Einstein's, or mine for that matter. With a scholarship large enough to pay for a complete ride at most any college, yet you decided to attend a prestigious private institution, so you moonlight as a waitress to stretch the scholarship money. Which is impressive since you have a double major in archaeology and history, with an emphasis on secret societies. Orphan. And more importantly, virgin."

While he spoke, he unwound the connection between her wrists and ankles, separating them.

She was taken aback for a minute, then snorted. "Well, Fortinbras, I'm not impressed. All of that information is available from my identification. Or by direct examination." She flushed at that.

His eyes seemed to twinkle as he gazed at her. "True, very true." He lifted her arms up; the wrists still bound, and lifted them over a hook a couple of feet above her head. It was uncomfortable and she shifted, trying to get the kink out of her back. "Oh, don't worry Morgan, you won't be in that position for long. I would free you, but you don't trust me, yet."

"If you wanted trust, you didn't pick the best way to get it."

"Oh, I understand that, Ms. Laurel," he said as he rose, and walked across the room. She could see more of it now, it seemed roughly circular, and the whole thing was smooth stone -- and dome shaped. A circle was inscribed in the floor of the room, and at five points around the circle tall candles burned. In the center of the circle was a raised rectangular-- bed? Altar? Something, it looked like there was some sort of mattress on it.

Across the room there was an elaborate wooden door. "That must be the way out," she thought. She tried to push against the wall, to get some leverage to rise, and get her hands off the hook, but she couldn't get enough by the time he returned, carrying a hobble.

"The problem," he said as he knelt, and began attaching the hobble to her legs above the rope ties. "Is time. We would have recruited you in a more normal way eventually. Or you would have come to us. Eventually you would have become my successor. But, the new Millennium is upon us, and we need you now."

She laughed. "The New Year is in a month, and the *millennium* isn't until *next* year."

He attached the hobble to her other leg. "True, in the Gregorian calendar. It is not happenstance that the year 2000 falls on the millennium -- this special millennial turning. That was the plan."

"The plan?" she said, half spitefully, half curious.

He began unwinding the rope that bound her ankles together. "Yes. Every 5 millenniums the world changes, my dear. And this is the 5th such change since the Sundering, 25,000 years ago tonight. And tonight, you join the Illuminati."

She scoffed, "You are some old crank, man. Organized civilizations haven't been around that long." she wondered, He had freed her legs from the ropes, and began massaging them, letting the blood flow back into her feet. She gasped in pain as her feet began to tingle. His hands, though, did feel good.

"That's true, for the next hour or so. That's what everyone thinks, so it is true. The technocracy wants you to think that. You would have discovered them eventually, if you had the time. You were on the path with your research into the Illuminati" -- they *did* know! -- "especially its connection to Atlantis, and cabalistic magic." He grinned at her then. "I was doing the same thing 60 years ago, when I was your age."

"So," she said, "if the technocracy is going to lose power, who is going to gain it?"

"Who said the technocracy was going to lose power, girl? This is the 5th turning of 5 since the Sundering. This is the Rejoining!" He stood up then, and took her hand off the hook. He began to pull her up to her feet. They were still asleep, but she managed it somehow. It felt odd -- like she was walking on numb sticks.

"Then who are you allied with, who opposed the Technocracy?"

"I am allied with no one, dear. The Mages oppose the Technocracy. Feel enlightened now?" He helped her hobble over to the center of the room. "In the Sundering, magic and technology were separated, cast into 5000 year cycles of dominance. Every 5000 years, the current ones in power would lose -- their spells or science would cease to work, and the world would be thrown into chaos again, until the sides reformed. But there were always people who knew the tools and incantations of the next cycle."

He lifted her up onto the bed/altar. It was comfortable at least. "And you are such a person?"

"Yes, and my predecessor. And, if the cycles were to continue, you would have been one too."

"So what is to become of me?"

"That remains to be seen. This, you see is the Great Cycle, it's the rejoining. Both magic and technology will work. And besides, perhaps, a flicker of their lights and signals, no one will notice. And of course they are expecting that."

"The millennium bug..."

"Exactly. My predecessor's work, which I continued. It wasn't difficult. The seeds were set ages ago. The calendars lined up in the middle ages, the myth of Jesus, everything. A well placed, informative word here, a bribe there."

She nodded, as he lay her back on the altar. she thought. "And tonight, the magic rushes back into the world."

He clamped one leg down on the bed. What was he doing? Why was she letting him, without a struggle? Why was she actually *excited* by this? Then he undid the hobble, and tied her other leg to the other side of the altar, making her legs spread wide.

"Yes," he said. "And for those of us who are ready...it means great power. That's why we're here, on this island in the northern Pacific. It's a place of great power, power to which I am especially attuned. And you, the brightest, most beautiful of the new crop of candidates. He walked up beside her then, and ran his hands up her thigh, over her pelvis and stomach, and stopped, cupping her breast. "And, miraculously, still a virgin." He squeezed; she gasped. She felt a tingle in her breasts that shot down to that place between her legs. "The power here will be truly *great*."

He untied her hands then, and did the same massaging job. "What are you going to do to me?" she asked, the fear of him overcoming her curiosity, her arousal.

"You, my dear, are the virgin sacrifice."

She ripped her hands from him then. They were tingly and numb. She swung them at him like clubs, but since her legs were so tightly bound, she couldn't move, couldn't get the angle she needed. "I don't want to *die*."

He grabbed her wrists, then, and held them still. "Who said you were going to die? I just want your virginity," he added, flippantly.

He pulled one hand then, back, and away from her body, stretching her. Then it, too, was clamped down with cuffs. She didn't even fight when he did her other hand. He leaned over her then, his head over hers, looking down at her. His right hand roamed over her clothed body, caressing, touching, and arousing her. She cursed her body's reaction, she cursed his entrancing gaze, and she cursed the part of herself intrigued by this evil man.

He unbuttoned her shirt, and slid his hand over her belly. She sighed at his touch, and he closed the distance between their lips, kissing her. She melted into his deep, sensual kiss, as his hand rose, sliding over her breast. She jerked then -- her bra was gone! When had that happened? Before she woke, she assumed. He kissed her more deeply and began massaging her nipple, bringing it to hardness, and sending those electric shocks down to her maidenhead.

He broke the kiss, and got out a large knife. She stared at him, entranced her logical mind rebelling from what was happening to her, as his knife came down, and began to cut away her shirt.

Once that was done, he lowered his lips and sensuous tongue to her nipple, and his hand -- his roaming hand -- found its way underneath her waistband.

She was less surprised this time to find that she wasn't wearing panties. she thought. She gasped and sighed as his finger found her bud, and began playing with it. She'd never felt this before -- no one had ever been this close. It felt so much better than when she did it for herself. God!

She moved against his hand then, and dammit, he stopped! He pulled up, off her breast, and pulled his hand from her pants. Then out came the knife again, cutting away her clothes. She helped him this time, lifting her ass, letting him pull the pants out from beneath her. She could smell her arousal. He came up beside her then, and dipped his finger back inside her nether lips, gathering her lubrication up on his fingers.

He took the liquid and made a pentagram on each of her feet, "I mark your feet, your connection to the earth."

Then he moved to just below her navel, "Your vagina, for the gift of life."

He returned then for more lubrication, sliding the fingers of both hands between her lips, she sighed as he rubbed against her clit. Then, with both hands, he made pentagrams on her breasts, circling her nipples so sensually, she moaned. He then intoned, "Your breasts, the source of life's milk."

"Your lips, source of speech." Then he rubbed her lips with his right hand, and she licked her juices from his fingers. What was she doing?

Finally, with his left hand, he drew a final pentagram over her forehead. "And your brain, source of wisdom." She felt a thrill of energy pass through her then, from her head to her toes and back again, settling down at that place, that gushing place between her legs.

He looked at his watch. "I think we are ready to begin."

"What are we going to do, now?"

"You are going to lie there, and I'm going to cast a spell and fuck you."

She shivered then, at the coarseness, at the inevitability, at the power in his voice.

He walked around her three times, clockwise, slowly moving. He stopped between her legs. She looked down her body at him. He removed his shoes, his watch. Then he dropped away the robe. He was naked beneath it. His penis hard, pointing straight at her. "Al-Kalla, al-karim, so'balla, andellim!" He shouted, and she felt the air in the room stir, circling around them, around *him*.

The lines in his face seemed to soften; his hair seemed to go from grey to blond. "Vasta, Vishnu, Tolka, Parmu!" he intoned, and his hair did move to blond, the wrinkles gone. He looked maybe twenty, maybe thirty. He climbed up onto the bed altar and positioned himself over her. He lowered his mouth over her left breast, and sucked it in, and again her body responded. Then, he moved and took in the other, sliding his left hand to tweak her hardened nipple.

She sighed aloud as his teeth came gently down on her nipple, as the fingers of his hands tweaked the other one. Her legs, bound and stretched, tried to open wider for him. He moved higher, his cock brushing her inner thigh; his hands on either side of her body. He looked down into her eyes.

"Don't" she whispered, "Don't do this to me." He smiled and lifted one hand, and ran it over her breast, she closed her eyes and sighed, "Oh, God, god..d-d-on't," she whimpered.

"Saron, d'malla cortuze, d'valla!" he shouted, thrusting forward through her maidenhead. She screamed as he pierced her. Slowly the pain went away, as he moved gently back and forth.

She looked at him again. He wasn't younger this time, he was *stronger*, more defined. whispered a part of her mind. whispered another part.

He began moving then, eyes closed, concentrating. Focusing on her pleasure. One hand returned to a breast, his mouth to the other. He was doing something with his penis -- going in circles, moving? She didn't know. It was rubbing some place inside her. she thought, still fighting. Tears welled up in her eyes as she began to give herself to the pleasure. Her head thrashed back and forth, fighting the pleasure.

He moved up, sliding both hands over her breasts. and lowered his mouth to hers. His tongue entered her, and began thrusting in time to his thrusts. His hand irregularly tweaked her nipples, sending little electric shocks down her body. He began moving faster then, speeding up a little bit at a time.

She gasped and sighed into his kiss and he hit it. She didn't know what *it* was, but gods that was it. His cock, rubbing against her clit, against that *place* inside her, the breast tweaking, the *sensation* of it all. The rational part of her brain gone, all she wanted was to fuck and be fucked. She pulled against her restraints, trying to meet his thrusts, until she came in a blinding flash of light.

He broke the kiss and shouted, "Tambien, Doltar, Venitia, Forvara!" And the wind that had been gathering in the room spun even faster. It picked up their clothes, and some papers -- his watch. Still, somehow the candles continued to burn.

"Yes!" he shouted, "I can feel the power, it is Mine, yes, Yes YESSS!"

She looked up to him -- his coloration had changed, he was darker somehow -- more than just tanned. His eyes had a reflective glow. His hair -- which had been blond, hadn't it? -- was now stark white.

She screamed in ecstasy as his cock grew in size, becoming fatter and longer. As *he* got bigger, fuller, and even more defined. She could feel the power building in him.

He thrust in and out of her, faster and faster. She felt her lips as they were stretched beyond anything she'd ever imagined. His howls were lost in the swirling winds as he lost himself in their mating. He thrust and thrust and thrust again, ramming her with his now huge cock. Finally he came into her, triggering another orgasm in her.

And then she felt it, too! The power flowing into her. Her breasts expanded, her muscles tightened and grew. Her senses -- she could smell his arousal and hers, and the smoke from the candle flames. She could hear the irregularity of his breathing as he gasped. She could taste the salt of his perspiration as it dripped on her lips. And she could feel. God she could feel every last place they touched, his semen inside of her, his cock as it deflated, still rubbing against her labia.

And she *knew*. She knew the power and the sex, and how to use it. She squeezed against his cock with the walls of her pussy, caressing him as well as she could with her hand, bringing him back to hardness. She pulled, and *twisted* and freed herself from the bonds. Her hands pulled him down to her; her legs wrapped themselves around him. There were still seconds to midnight.

She rolled him over, and began riding him "The power is *ours* Fortinbras! All *ours*!"

She rode him, and pulled his head to her breast to suckle. "Feel it! The Millennium is here!" And something swept through the room. The candles flickered and went out. The wind abruptly stopped, dropping clothes and papers on the floor. A *power* passed over and through them, and they gathered it in.

He bit down on her nipple and she cried out, riding him harder.

Then the candles flickered on again, and he shouted out, coming inside her one more time.

She collapsed on him then, exhausted, and powerful. Her skin was darkened, too. And surely, her hair was now white.

She kissed her lover on the lips, and fell asleep next to him.

(Tomorrow,) she thought. (Tomorrow we take the world.)