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Message-ID: <43679asstr$1059520204@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Crimson Dragon <dcrimsonp@nym.alias.net>
Subject: {ASSM} (New) Dawn of Time [132/157] (MF+, bond, control) {Crimson Dragon}
Date: Tue, 29 Jul 2003 19:10:04 -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 132

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(C) Copyright 2002 - All Rights Reserved

Crimson Dragon (dcrimson@yahoo.com)

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

Kate trembled, but didn't speak, as he almost gently wrapped the
last of the ropes about her bare breasts. While she was young enough
that her breasts didn't need a bra, or the sudden support that the
ropes impacted upon her, the gentle pressure of the ropes
intensified the sensations of his fingers brushing her skin. The
force of the sexuality would have buckled her legs if the ropes
hadn't held her up, the pillar unyielding and uncaring about its
helpless passenger.

(Oh, God, he's going to hurt me. Make me scream.)

He left for a moment, walking back to the other girls, crouching and
speaking to each of the kneeling forms. Monique began to cry, and
Andrea shivered. Nicole and Leigh seemed to expect the commands, and
wearily faced their tasks.

In her peripheral vision, Kate saw another flash of white, and she
glanced over towards the escalator. Something had moved down there.
Hadn't it? She was still searching for the source of the movement
when she became aware that he'd returned. She looked into his eyes,
seeing unemotional hardness there. It might have been easier for her
if she'd seen hate, or even sexual anticipation there. But this was
almost the expression that she'd expect a serial murderer to adopt
before he strangled his victim.

She shivered, letting her eyes drop. He was holding a whip in his
right hand, the tendrils of black leather creeping down his jean
clad thigh like a vine. The strips of leather, perhaps five, seemed
to almost caress his leg, trembling almost in anticipation.

(He's going to hit me with that???)

She raised her eyes again, fear tinging their surface. His eyes
didn't mirror the anticipation of the whip; if anything, his eyes
reflected a sorrow, or regret.

"Are you ready, little one?"

"Why?" she whispered, unable to raise her voice beyond that. Her
body trembled in the restraints. She wanted to beg him to leave her
alone, that she was only a seventeen-year-old sophomore. But the
humiliation of that seemed worse somehow than simply accepting what
would happen despite her pleas.

"Because she needs to see it. Without this, she won't end it.
Without this, she can resist. And then even I don't know what
happens."

Confused, Kate stared at him. She didn't see the madness shining
there that she half-expected. Her vagina clenched as she stared at
the weapon in his hand. She forced her eyes from it, back to his
face.

"Who?" she whispered. It was obvious that he wasn't speaking of the
bound girls under his control. No, Crystal, Wade, Danielle, Pamela,
Leigh, Andrea, Monique, Nicole and most of all Kate, were all very
much under his control, bound and naked and helpless. "There is
nobody else here."

The flashes of movement in her peripheral vision rose up in her
memory.

"Please, who's benefit is this for? Why are you going to whip me?"

He hesitated so long that she thought that he might have entered a
trance. A saving trance. A trance that might make him reconsider
this lunacy. It was her soft skin he was going to strike. Wasn't it?

At last, he looked up, and worry crossed his brow.

"Dawn," he whispered.

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

At first she had thought that he had meant the sunrise, which in
this world was impossible. Confused, she glanced up towards the
skylights high above her. The sun hadn't moved.

Then she realised that his whispered word was a name, and that name
didn't match any of the girls that surrounded him. She felt the
name echo on her lips, and then he was no longer facing her, but
facing up the corridor, back the way they had come.

His voice wasn't loud; he didn't shout. Rather his voice was steady,
like a common conversation at a cocktail party. Kate couldn't
remember a cocktail party where she'd been bound naked to a pillar,
but suddenly it seemed unimportant. Whoever Dawn was, he needed
her. Kate didn't understand, but what did impress upon her mind was
the fact that he needed to hurt her so that Dawn would appear.
Didn't that mean that Dawn wasn't under his direct control? Was that
possible?

"Dawn, it's over," he called softly. "I sense you."

Kate swivelled her head as far as her restraints would allow. No
flashes of movement greeted her.

"I don't want to hurt her, or them, but I will. She'll scream. And
then she'll beg. Can you live with yourself?"

His words were nearly hypnotic, and if Kate hadn't been bound to the
pillar, and hadn't been the one about whom he was speaking, she
might have followed that voice anywhere.

She thought a faint moan reached her ears, an unfamiliar voice,
unmuffled. She strained to located the sound, but she wasn't even
fully sure that she'd heard it.

"I'm going to whip her, Dawn. On the breasts, maybe even between her
legs. I have to, Dawn. I don't want to."

Still, no mysterious girl named Dawn appeared, though another echo
of a moan reached her ears. The moan sounded low, and almost sexual.
Her own sex clenched as she realised that he wasn't joking. He would
whip her helpless skin, on her sex organs, on her most sensitive
spots. She'd try not to scream, but eventually she would. That much
she understood. He'd whip her until she screamed. He needed the
screams, more than he needed to put her into pain. She'd resist, oh,
yes, but for how long? Suddenly she was glad that she was bound to
the pillar -- none of the other girls could take what he had to do.
Only her. Pain an aphrodisiac for her body, if not her mind. But he
would take her well beyond that, wouldn't he?

Kate moaned in sympathy with the unseen girl out there. Silently,
she prayed that even through it all, she wouldn't show herself.
Whoever she was. When the pain started, the thoughts would abandon
her, but for now, her skin still soft and unmarked, she could hope.

The Timeman sighed and turned towards Kate. Kate paled, and if she'd
been able, she would have shrunk from the emotionless gesture. The
whip moved back and forth in the man's hands. The whip, she was
sure, could kill her, if he wielded it long enough. She didn't want
to die, not here, not at home, but suddenly, the fear left her.
There was nothing that she could do. She pressed her lips together
and nodded.

He raised his face to the ceiling, and spoke.

"Dawn? I know you can hear me. I know what you feel. You'll feel
every stroke as it kisses her, won't you? Can you take it?" He
sighed and lowered his chin, staring at Kate.

But he didn't speak to her. "Can you take it?"

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

Dimly, she was aware of the other girls, leaning forward on their
knees, and beginning to use their mouths on the females strung up to
the railing. Dimly, she was aware of Crystal twisting, and rocking
her hips, trying to escape Leigh's tongue and lips, the other girls
only half-heartedly attempting to escape, moaning not in sexual
ecstasy, but nevertheless moaning through the panties secured in
their mouths.

Dimly, she was aware of the whip rising, pausing, seemingly forever
above his shoulder, muscles rippling. Kate closed her eyes, waiting.

When the leather touched her, she pressed her lips together.

(I won't scream. I won't scream. I won't scream.)

And she didn't. The sound reached her well before the pain did. She
was suddenly aware of her bound breasts dancing on her chest as the
leather crashed into her exposed skin. The bindings around the base
of each breast seemed to intensify the sensations that began as a
deep warmth. Her nipples and her vagina reacted, and for a moment,
she was sure that she would suffer the indignity of climaxing from a
single blow to her breasts. But it didn't develop beyond a distance
yearning, and the warmth spiralled up to heat, and then to molten
fire.

She let her breath out from lungs in a whoosh.

"Oh, God," she whispered. "Please, no more."

When she finally opened her eyes, she moaned. He had raised the
thing again in an easy arc above his shoulder. She glanced at her
bound breasts, sure that the flesh had been split and her innards
leaking from deep cuts there. Almost detached, she noted that the
five tails of the whip were wide leather, to maximise impact sting,
but minimise the possibility of breaking her skin. In some ways she
was thankful, and in others she wished that he would actually damage
her -- for to damage her would make him stop. Of that, she was
certain.

Almost unconsciously, her body pressed against the ropes, thrusting
her breasts out to meet the next blow.

"Please, no more," she whispered. While his face held a deep
compassion for the pain he was causing, a regret, his hand began its
inevitable sweep towards her vulnerable skin.

Stars swam in front of her eyes as her breasts exploded again in
agony.

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

She couldn't think anymore. Dawn was only a distant memory, her
entire existence characterised by molten hot pain, centred upon her
chest. Tears ran freely down her face, and her body had given up its
insistence of sexuality. Somewhere, she was aware, that if he'd
touched her with his fingers, gently, between her spread legs, she
would have exploded in orgasm, but for now, only pain surrounded
her.

A wailing, that wasn't her voice, but rather was Leigh's, settled
into her ears.

"Stop it. Stop it. You're going to kill her."

The pain lessened as the blows ceased for a moment. Kate opened her
eyes, red tinging her vision. It wasn't blood, no, he hadn't damaged
her skin, though she knew if she looked, her breasts would probably
resemble tomatoes. No, it wouldn't be that easy, would it?

She tried to find her voice, force out a protest. The pain kept her
voice at bay. A scream might emerge, if she let it, but nothing
more.

Instead of answering Leigh, he almost nonchalantly swung the whip at
the kneeling girl. Leigh shied way at the last moment, her face a
mask of surprise, and then of agony. The whip curled around her
upper arm, striking into her bound arms and back simultaneously.

"Fuck you," she spat.

He pulled back his hand again, but Kate found her tongue.

"No, Leigh. No. He's not killing me."

The whip wavered. Kate wasn't sure if he was killing her or not, but
Leigh needed to hear it. Otherwise, she wouldn't turn back to
licking Crystal, would allow the Timeman to whip her unconscious, or
into a babbling madwoman.

"Please," Kate called again, addressing her tormentor. "She doesn't
understand. Come back."

Some distance part of her mind rebelled. Her breasts screamed at her
- -- inviting more, unthinkable. But she had. And the Timeman was
turning towards her.

"Continue," he growled at Leigh.

Leigh hesitated, flashing a glance at Kate. Kate wearily nodded,
hoping that the nod would be interpreted as she'd intended it. It
hadn't been easy to dip her head.

He brought up the whip again, but instead of sending it crashing
into Leigh's body, his voice emerged calm, and steady.

"The next one finds Crystal. Then Wade."

Leigh swallowed, and threw him a look of pure hate, then turned
slowly. She set her mouth against Crystal's pubis. Crystal had
paled at his words, and she pushed her hips towards Leigh, blood
burning in her face as she did.

Apparently satisfied, he paced back towards Kate.

"Shall we continue?" he whispered.

Kate closed her eyes, and nodded. She wouldn't scream, even though
she knew that her cries would end it. She felt it in her heart,
could almost feel the renegade free girl. When she started to
scream, it would be over.

She pressed her lips together and managed merely a moan as the wide
strips of leather again found her breasts. She was too weak even to
pull on the ropes that held her up.

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

The rhythm changed -- and though her world was merely a haze of
pain, she knew somehow that her skin wasn't being damaged in any
permanent way. She would be sore, without a doubt, her breasts
aching for a week, if she were here that long, but they ached
anyway, only in a different way. At this point, Kate didn't know
the difference anymore.

Tears fell in rivers from her eyes, but she managed to open them. He
had stopped hitting her for a moment, and the relief felt like
freedom. Of course, she wasn't free, still stood naked and bound to
the pillar, but she had no control over the course of events. The
only control that she truly had was over her voice, and that would
be torn from her soon enough. Four times, she had struggled to
contain a scream as the leather bit relentlessly into the taut skin
of her breasts. It was when one of the bands caught an edge against
her nipples that she barely contained the cries, but so far, she
had.

He called out again.

"Dawn? How much more can you take?"

The only answer was a quiet moan. This time, Kate could almost
pinpoint it, coming from the direction of the escalator. She
wondered why the Timeman hadn't heard it, and if he had, why he
didn't simply pace down the corridor and drag the girl from her
hideaway. If there was a girl, and Kate wasn't merely hallucinating
or hearing her own voice.

Somehow, she knew that there was a girl, and that she was free of
control. How, and why, Kate didn't understand, but somehow her
presence was a threat both to the Timeman, and somehow to the
universe surrounding her. Worse, the girl was feeling Kate's pain,
feeling an attenuated thrust with each strike of the whip upon her
skin, each tendril of hot pain entering her body from her nipples,
her breasts, and her mind.

She would scream. It hurt too much. Somehow, Kate was going to be
the one to draw Dawn out. Her pain, her agony, her cries, would
break down Dawn, and she would step out and give up.

(No, Dawn. Hold out. Wherever you are. I won't die.)

In her heart, she knew that her thoughts wouldn't change anything,
and she had no ultimate choice here. After all, she was only a
seventeen-year-old high school girl, strapped naked to a pillar,
struggling for a semblance of control -- over herself, over
everyone. It wasn't going to be the sight of Leigh licking Crystal,
no matter how much it resembled rape. It wasn't enough. It was her
pain, and her screams that would turn the tide.

She closed her eyes, and pressed her lips together again. He'd
turned back towards her, and he was smiling. Oh, God, he was
smiling.

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

It was not her breasts that betrayed her. After his final appeal to
the hidden, or fictional girl, he swung the whip not down towards
her aching breasts, but rather on an upward arc, with an easy flick
of his wrists.

The centre of her being exploded in agony, her rocking hips almost
thrusting towards the blow like a lover reaching for her lover's
touch. The pain was easily double or triple that which she had felt
at the height of the breast whipping, the edge of one of the bands
of leather, perhaps by luck, striking between her exposed lips and
kissing her swollen clitoris.

She struggled to maintain consciousness, and the blackness receded,
replaced by burning hot molten fire between her legs. It felt like a
red hot poker had been shoved rudely up and inside of her, her
clitoris, and her vaginal walls clenching uncontrollably as they
absorbed the energy of the leather.

She couldn't stop it. She had no hope of stopping it.

Like a mindless animal, caught in a trap, she screamed. There were
no words, no coherency. She was well beyond any intelligent thought
- -- only rippling pain made up her small bubble of the universe. Her
throat ached as she finally let the pent up pain out, filling the
air.

He didn't strike her again, though he stood before her, the whip
dangling from his fingers.

She couldn't stop herself.

"Please, no more. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts," she screamed.

Then a glimmering of humanity seeped back into her agony, and she
opened her eyes. Tears blurred her vision, but she could see clearly
past him. His attention was upon her, almost an expression of
sympathy finally entering his visage. For no rational reason, she
wanted to hug him, and tell him that she was all right. But, of
course, she couldn't, and she wouldn't.

His face didn't capture her attention. No. Over his shoulder, a
figure stepped out from behind the escalator. The figure was a
woman with dusty blonde hair, wearing Levis and a university
sweatshirt. In her state, Kate couldn't tell from which university
it had originated. The girl was wearing Nikes and seemed ordinary
in all regards. Tears streamed down her face, and her hands rose in
a protective gesture over where her breasts would be underneath the
sweatshirt.

"Dawn, no. I'm sorry," Kate whispered.

The Timeman began to turn.

Dawn's voice was musically soft, floating across the mall's corridor
like a voice from heaven.

"You can stop hitting her," she said evenly. "I'm here."

It was over.

The blackness rose up again, and Kate tried to find her voice to
call out, to protest. It had been her pain that had drawn Dawn into
this. Her.

The blackness wouldn't be denied. Kate had no more strength. Her
breasts screamed and her vagina drove one last tendril of white hot
pain into her mind.

And then blessed blackness, where there was no pain, embraced her.


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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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