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Message-ID: <41795asstr$1050207003@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Crimson Dragon <dcrimsonp@nym.alias.net>
Subject: {ASSM} (New) Dawn of Time [055/157] (MF+, bond, control) {Crimson Dragon}
Date: Sun, 13 Apr 2003 00:10:03 -0400
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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 55

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(C) Copyright 2002 - All Rights Reserved

Crimson Dragon (dcrimson@yahoo.com)

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

It had taken him a long time to tie all six of the girls with ropes.
Lisa, Anne, and Tyler lay prone, their wrists tied behind them,
their ankles tied and bent back to attach to their wrist ropes.
Tracy, Jennifer and Kim lay in similar positions, hog-tied and
naked, but on Leigh's side of the court.

Blondes and brunettes. Tracy wept quietly as she lay on the
hardwood; the remaining girls lay silently pulling at their bonds.

"Please. This hurts," Lisa said, trying to arch her head up to see
the gunman who stood to her left.

He crouched, and smoothed the naked girl's hair, almost kindly.

"I'm afraid it's going to hurt a little more before we're done." He
sounded genuinely sympathetic, as though he didn't have a choice in
making the girls endure this.

Lisa lowered her head to the floor, and moaned. She pulled against
her ropes futilely for a moment, then decided to conserve her
energy.

He walked over the hardwood, glancing at the girls by the change
room, his shoes squeaking against the floor. Leigh squirmed in her
bonds, her bare feet struggling to keep her upright. Her arms ached
like they were going to fall out of her shoulders, and her legs
shook. Her calves screamed at her for repeatedly trying to ease the
pressure on her wrists.

"How are you holding up?" he whispered to Leigh.

"How do you think? This hurts. Please, let me down. Just for a few
minutes. I'll let you tie me back up. I promise. Just for a few
minutes."

He slowly shook his head.

"Please. I've been good. I've done everything you wanted. I tied up
the audience. I let you tie me like this. Please, just for a few
minutes. Kate, too?"

"I need you uncomfortable."

"Why, for God's sake? You have nine of us. We're all uncomfortable."

"For the game."

"For control. I'm under your control. I know that. That's what you
want to hear, isn't it? You control me. Please."

"You'd fuck the basketball girls for me, wouldn't you?"

"If you let me down for three minutes, I would."

"Oh, I think it would take you longer than that."

"Please. My arms. My wrists. They hurt."

He touched her cheek, gently. Not her breasts, not her ass -- her
cheek.

"Soon, little one. Soon."

She couldn't help it. She was so tired, and it hurt. It had been
hours of stress. Being tied. Being naked. Doing what this man
wanted.

She let her head hang, and she cried. It felt good, but it didn't
take the pressure off her arms and hands.

"Please?" she begged.

He only touched her cheek again, brushing away the tears, and turned
away. Kate hung at her post on the opposite side of the gym. Her
face was a mask of pain, as much as Leigh was sure hers was, but she
mouthed:

"I'm sorry," across the court to Leigh.

                         <---===***===--->

He almost sounded like a wrestling announcer, but much quieter. He
commanded attention. Leigh looked up, blinking away the tears. She
didn't think she had any more tears, but they seemed to refresh
every so often.

"The game is simple," he intoned. The crowd in the bleachers had
stopped watching the girls tied on the floor, and had turned away
from the girls tied under the nets. All eyes rested on the gunman,
standing encircled by the six tied girls on the floor.

He touched each of the bound girls, running a finger up their
insteps, making them jump and moan in their bonds.

"Each girl has a simple task. Get to their captain. Tracy, Jennifer,
and Tyler -- the Brunettes, need to touch Leigh's feet. The Blondes
- -- Lisa, Anne, and Kim -- need to reach Kate."

"We're tied up," Lisa said exasperatedly.

He turned to her. "Yes."

"Oh God. We can't do that. Do you know how much these ropes hurt?"

He nodded.

Movement in the bleachers distracted him. Two guys stood, their arms
crossed across their chests.

"Leave them alone."

The gunman smiled and walked to the foot of the bleachers. He had to
step over Tyler and Anne who moaned as he did.

"You got a problem with this?"

The guys paled, but remained standing.

"Why don't you toss away that piece, and pick on some people your
own size?"

The guys hardly looked like a match for the gunman, but there were
two of them.

"You don't think it's right for me to be doing this to the girls?"

"Do you think it's right?"

He laughed and jumped up a stair. Despite the suggestion, the gun
remained in his hand, but it wasn't pointed at the guys.

"Would you rather be in the game?"

They considered that for a moment, and nodded. "If you'd let the
girls go, sure, we'd trade with them."

"Very noble. But you wouldn't look as good, naked, as they do."

"Fucking bastard."

"Yes, I am. What's the point?"

"We would trade places with them. Gladly."

He seemed to consider it. Leigh doubted if he was actually
considering it, and wasn't disappointed by his answer.

"I doubt if you'd want that. Men don't have the pain tolerance of
the girls down there."

As if to prove his statement, one of the girls lying on the floor
moaned.

He stepped up one further riser. Two girls flanked the guys. The
blonde reached up to tug at the sweatshirt of the left speaker. He
glanced down at the girl.

"Enough," she whispered. "Are you trying to get killed?"

"You should listen to your girlfriend," he advised.

"Fuck you. You have to abuse women to get your thrills?"

"I'm not his girlfriend," the girl said quietly and pulled her hand
back down away from his shirt. She shifted and slid to move as far
away from him as she could with the chain locked around her ankle.

"The difference, you see, is that this game doesn't really have
consequences."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Time, my friend. Time. The existence of events. Paradox."

"What?"

Without warning, the guy whose girlfriend claimed she wasn't sitting
beside him, launched. Leigh closed her eyes, expecting the easy
report of the handgun, complete with the ringing ears, and the cry
of pain. Or not. It didn't come.

He hung in the air, like a frozen replay of a cliff diver. The
gunman slipped to the side and released the diver. The guy looked
confused for a moment before the chain yanked his ankle and he
tumbled forward. The blonde who'd tried to calm him screamed as her
foot was yanked forward. The other guy, chained beside him,
grunted, and fell as the guy's weight crashed headlong into the
bleachers where the gunman had stood but a moment before.

The attacker screamed in pain as his head and arm cracked into the
seats in front of him. The girl beside grabbed at her ankle, still
screaming.

The gunman sat down, waiting quietly. At last, the guy pushed
himself up, tears falling down his cheeks.

"Oh God, oh God, blood," he murmured. And then he fainted.

"Pick him up," the gunman said quietly.

The other student silently reached down and managed to drag his
buddy back up to lie on the edge of the lower seat. He looked up
warily.

"How did you do that, man?"

"Time."

The guy looked confused for a moment, but then sat back down on the
bleachers.

"Lisa?" the gunman called.

The girl had craned her neck from her hog-tie.

"Yes?"

"How are you feeling down there?"

"It hurts."

The gunman nodded.

He spoke to the guy who remained. "He fainted. And he isn't going to
go through what Lisa is."

"I know," he whispered.

Without pausing his dialogue, the gunman touched the gun to the
blonde girl's knee, dragging it up and down. She released her
injured ankle, and tried to back away from the weapon.

"Oh God, please don't shoot me," she begged as he continued with the
gun.

"Do you still want to trade places with her? I'll let you."

The guy shook his head violently, his eyes tracking the gun
caressing the blonde's knee.

He turned to face the girl. She shrank back at his attention, her
knee shuddering against the gun barrel.

"How about you? Do you want to trade places with Lisa down there?
You, I think, would be more attractive than these idiots, and
probably could take what I'm going to put the girls through."

The blonde girl shook her head slowly, her eyes pleading.

"Please no. I was just sitting here. I. I don't even know them. I
don't want to strip and be tied up down there in front of everyone.
Please no."

He turned away from the cowering girl.

"I could shoot her. And her," he pointed to the girl beside the
still conscious guy. The brunette backed away, her eyes wide and
teary. "If I wanted to. This isn't up for negotiation. The girls
can try to convince me otherwise, if they want, they earned the
right to have a different opinion, but I don't want to hear another
peep out of you. Is that clear?"

His eyes flit between the gun, and his buddy's bloody face.

He nodded. "Crystal," he whispered.

The gunman turned, almost addressing the entire bleachers at once,
but directing his voice to the still conscious boy who'd been brave
enough to stand up to the gun.

"Neither you, nor they, will remember this, after it's over."


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