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Message-ID: <41373asstr$1048194606@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Crimson Dragon <dcrimsonp@nym.alias.net>
Subject: {ASSM} (New) Dawn of Time [038/157] (MF+, bond, control) {Crimson Dragon}
Date: Thu, 20 Mar 2003 16:10:06 -0500
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Author's Shortened Preface:
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In the interests of reducing bandwidth the full preface is now 
available at:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 38

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(C) Copyright 2002 - All Rights Reserved

Crimson Dragon (dcrimson@yahoo.com)

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

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.


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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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