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Message-ID: <41359asstr$1048111804@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Crimson Dragon <dcrimsonp@nym.alias.net>
Subject: {ASSM} (New) Dawn of Time [037/157] (MF+, bond, control) {Crimson Dragon}
Date: Wed, 19 Mar 2003 17:10:04 -0500
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====================================================================
Author's Shortened Preface:
====================================================================

In the interests of reducing bandwidth the full preface is now 
available at:

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Crimson_Dragon/www

I would encourage you to read it at least once. If you ignore
the full preface and end up offended, you have nobody to blame but
yourself. Caveat emptor. The really important bits:

This is a work of erotic fiction. As such there may be scenes with
nudity, sex, and even questionable non-consensual bondage. If you
are a minor, or you are irresponsible at any age, you shouldn't be
reading this -- find somewhere else to play. I won't be offended.
If you are looking for a quick stroke story, this probably isn't
it. For a piece of writing of 157 chapters, there is remarkably
little sex. You've been warned. Twice.

This is an original work, copyrighted by the author, Crimson Dragon.
Please do not use it as if it were your own. Enjoy the writing, but
do not archive or sell it in any manner without my written
permission. I'm easy to contact if you wish to redistribute my
words.

Lastly, I thoroughly enjoy hearing from people reading any of my
stories. Feel free to contact me with raves, rants, encouragement or
dissertation (note the lack of invitation for spam). I do try to
reply to all who are kind enough to drop me a note.

Now, if you are still with me, onto the story,
 - Crimson
   (dcrimson@yahoo.com)

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Crimson_Dragon/www

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

Dawn of Time - Crimson Dragon (dcrimson@yahoo.com)

Chapter 37

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

(C) Copyright 2002 - All Rights Reserved

Crimson Dragon (dcrimson@yahoo.com)

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

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.


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