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Message-ID: <44019asstr$1061302206@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Crimson Dragon <dcrimsonp@nym.alias.net>
Subject: {ASSM} (New) Dawn of Time [145/157] (MF+, bond, control) {Crimson Dragon}
Date: Tue, 19 Aug 2003 10:10:06 -0400
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Sorry about the delay. 

Where was Crimson when the lights went out?
In the dark? Under the bed, looking for matches?

You see, this small electrical issue, combined with other network
related silliness, prevented me from posting since Thursday.
'twasn't for lack of trying. Sometimes life deals us challenges.

And so, back to the adventures of Dawn and the merry crew stuck out
of Time. I'll catch up over the next few days, barring accidents.

 - Crimson

====================================================================
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 145

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

(C) Copyright 2002 - All Rights Reserved

Crimson Dragon (dcrimson@yahoo.com)

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

Dawn lowered herself carefully to the grass, her wrists straining
against the cuffs. He didn't offer to help her; she would have
shrugged off any overt attempts to guide her down. First to her
knees, and then to an easy position in the grass, her legs extended
in front of her, crossed at the ankle. She was aware that she
resembled the cloud, high above, in silhouette. She glanced up. The
dragon no longer chased the girl, but reared from her, backing away
as if in fright. She smiled.

"It's over, isn't it?" she said, her voice directed to the clouds.
His eyes roamed over her nakedness, and she could sense it, a
sensation similar to cotton kissing her skin. She lowered her eyes,
catching him.

He grinned when he realised that she was again watching him. He
smiled shyly, and she nearly asked him if he liked what he saw. But
her tongue refused to obey, and she merely smiled back.

"Almost over, yes," he said easily.

Her breasts still ached, but she wasn't sure if it was a remnant of
the whipping, or a remnant of her fight through time. Either way,
the pain was easing with her body, and she welcomed the relief.
Hadn't she been whipped about a million years ago? She didn't know.

"What happens, now?" she said. Idly, she twisted her hands behind
her back, and it surprised her again. She honestly didn't care
anymore that her hands were bound. It was a symbol, and she'd
shattered the symbol. He could tie her, her could even rape her if
he wished. It didn't matter. Not anymore.

They sat for a while, before he answered. When he did, he spoke to
the clouds, to the dragon and the girl high above their heads.

"We can't stay here anymore, Dawn."

"I know."

"It's not right."

"Was it ever?"

He ignored the comment, and shifted his eyes back to her. This
time, he did surprise her. His eyes were misty, tears falling slowly
down his cheeks. She wanted to reach forward and brush them gently
from his face, but the handcuffs prevented that nicely for her.

"It's over."

She nodded again. The sun beat down on her naked skin, and she
stretched, not caring that her breasts lifted into the spotlight,
that he was probably watching her every move, recording it in his
mind.

"I'm only a girl," she said slowly. When she turned her eyes back to
his face, she saw only the weight of a thousand worlds on his
shoulders, his eyes not on her chest as she'd supposed.

"A strong girl," he said quietly. "And the key."

"I am the key," she whispered.

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

"I'll go into the cellar. That's what you want, isn't it?"

"The bedroom would be adequate," he said. "I could tie you to the
bed. At least, you'd be comfortable."

"You don't need to bind me," she said, knowing that he did, and that
she'd allow it. It was over, and he needed to control her, even if
he wasn't.

"I know," he said simply. He gazed up towards the house. If Dawn's
sense of direction was correct, five naked and tied up girls sat,
probably talking quietly, beyond those bricks and mortar. In the
real world, a man, a monster, really, tormented one of them behind
his shield of concrete and glass. Dawn shivered.

"I'll go into the cellar," she said again. "They can't see me, not
anymore."

He nodded, understanding.

She swallowed, and hated herself, even showing this small weakness.

"But, this time, can you leave the light on for me? Please?"

He turned to look at her, and she momentarily felt ashamed of
herself for asking. It didn't fit into his plans, into his schemes.
She should sit alone, in the dark, in her grave, and watch dragons.

Slowly, he nodded.

"No," she whispered. "Like last time, you don't need to leave a
light on. I'm not a child."

(I am a child.)

"They can't see you," he said. "They'll wonder, but they can't."

"I know."

(Consequences.)

(Reality. Fantasy. Sex. Longing. Pain. Reality. Fantasy.)

"I can't close it, by myself. Not anymore."

(Not since I showed up, unannounced, and not wanting to be here.)

"I know," she whispered.

He began to push himself up. She glanced up at him, standing above
her. She felt her nudity enveloping her, and a twinge of her former
discomfort rose up again in her mind. She shook it off.

"Can we stay?" she begged. "Just for a little while, longer?
Please?"

He looked down at her. He was crying again.

He nodded, although she suspected that he didn't see her anymore. He
returned slowly to his place, his back against the tree, his eyes
now closed.

She turned her face back towards the sun, her hands comfortable
behind her, now. She stretched out her legs again, the grass
tickling the underside of her knee. The pain in her breasts, and
between her legs had subsided to a dull throb of sexuality, the
sharp pain of leather and time fading from her nerves.

She still wouldn't be able to open a frozen door, she knew, but
there were no doors here. Not anymore. And there was only one more
room to escape.

(And I'm the key.)

The dragon still retreated from the girl, high above, and the
squirrel chittered at them from a branch.

She smiled. It was over. Somehow, it was over.

She closed her eyes, and enjoyed the kiss of the grass, and the
scent of the air, and the touch of the sun upon her.

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

She stood about midway down the steps that were merely rough boards
under her bare feet. She wished for the grass again, but she would
feel that again, soon enough.

She turned, and gazed at him as he stood in the doorway, light
framing him as he watched her.

"I am naked, you know," she said.

"Are you cold?" His voice only held concern. He'd tried to convince
her once more that the bedroom would be safe enough. She supposed it
would be, but it seemed wrong somehow. Suddenly, she was afraid of
the dark again, but it didn't frighten her as much as the memories
of bolts of time, burning pain easing through the skin of her
fingers.

She smiled, and unconsciously thrust her chest out, her breasts
still aching there.

"No, silly," she nearly whispered. "I'm naked. I'm female. And I'm
going home, soon. You can look."

He blushed, but as she stood there, making no attempt to cover
herself, he let his eyes drift down her body. He'd seen her before,
of course, but this seemed more intimate. She blushed, as well,
which she hoped the dimness of the stairs covered. When she glanced
up, his eyes were on hers again.

"You're welcome," she whispered.

She turned then, and stepped down three more stairs. The scent of
loam and cheap wine filled her nostrils. She pulled at the
handcuffs behind her back. She could ask him to remove them, and he
would.

She turned. He still watched her descend, perhaps watching her bare
bottom, or her legs as they disappeared into the gloom. She recalled
vividly, Kate's skin disappearing into the night that was the cellar
ahead of her.

"What are you going to do to them?" she asked.

She envisioned him whipping them, tied to pillars, their screams
filling the universe. She would feel every kiss of the leather, and
she shivered.

He hesitated, as if he were embarrassed.

"I'm going to say good-bye," he said slowly.

Dawn nodded, sensing that her instincts had been wrong. He wouldn't
whip them, at least not at his whim. It was over.

"Come back for me," Dawn said lightly. She knew that he would.

He smiled.

"Do I have a choice?"

(Not really.)

The light dwindled as the door shut at the top of the stairs. The
click of the lock, to which she didn't have a key any more than she
had a key to her handcuffs, tore an element of finality into her
mind.

She sighed, and descended two more stairs, her bare feet searching
through the blackness until she felt damp, packed earth under her
toes. Slowly, Dawn stepped across the earth, envisioning snakes, and
mice, and cockroaches, half-expecting to bump into Kate, her voice
lightly telling her that it was her breast, not her cheek.

Dawn smiled.

Her toe touched damp concrete, and she pressed her back into the
wall of her prison. Slowly, she slipped down the wall until the
earth kissed her bum. She sighed, and extended her legs, peering out
into the blackness.

Dragons, and girls, Goliaths and Davids fought within, the earth
rumbling under her.

It was going to be a long wait.

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

The light blinded her, even though it originated in a caged, low
intensity bulb. She screamed, as she blinked away tears.

The lamp illuminated a small cellar around her, cinder blocks
framing the packed earthen floor. To her right, racks of wine stood,
probably turned to vinegar. A furnace, green, stood to her left, the
stairway that she'd picked her way down in the dark rising up like a
ladder from a grave directly in front of her.

By the foot of those stairs, she surmised, tears still blinding her,
is where she had touched Kate's breast, not hurting her. And where
she had touched Dawn's.

A light tap floated down the stairs, like an apology, rapped in
Morse code upon the door that led from this place. She looked up the
stairs, half-expecting to see the door swing open, freeing her. It
didn't, of course, the tap only a signal that he'd forgotten her in
the dark, hadn't intended to leave her lightless for her
self-permitted incarceration.

"I wasn't expecting light, but it's nice," she whispered to nobody
in particular. Then as the last tap faded from echoing down the
stairs, "Thank you, anyway, though."

She looked around again. No boogeymen. No mice. No insects. No
snakes. Only a lonely girl, waiting, her toes making furrows in the
earth.

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

Her breath came in deep rasps, her body throbbing to her own sexual
rhythm. Her hips rocked.

By stretching her arms, she could reach, a little, her fingers
brushing the soft skin of her breast. She cried out softly as she
stretched further, one hand reaching over her bare thigh to tease
her vaginal lips. Between them, just a little, her clitoris sang. He
probably didn't realise that a flexible girl might be able to do
this. It was all part of her descent here -- why she hadn't
insisted that he release her hands. She didn't want them released,
any more than he wanted to release them. It was part of this,
somehow, it was meant to prevent ... this ...

She moaned, as she stretched a little further, her shoulders crying
out, her wrists burning where they were held by the steel. Her index
finger brushed her clitoris, so wet, so delicious.

She cursed the light; this would have been easier, perhaps, in the
dark, where she didn't have to watch herself, her swollen nipples,
her finger delving between her spread thighs. More anonymous,
perhaps. Images of Linda's tongue teasing her, and Kate's fingers on
her breast assaulted her numbed mind. Sweet release in offices, in
schools, and in streets.

(No.)

She cried out, tearing her hand from herself.

(Please.)

Her hands lifted again, one finger trailing musk in a line towards
her chest. Her scent filled her nostrils, and she moaned.

Her thumb and her forefinger grasped her nipple. It throbbed
between.

(No. Not yet.)

(It's over.)

(You are the key.)

(Fuck the key. I can reach. And he's not here. Nobody's here.
 I'm alone. Completely, alone.)

She groaned and took a deep breath.

She twisted, her breast erupting in agony. Her hands fell, her
nipple driving tentacles of pain and arousal into her body. Tears
fell from her eyes, and she wished again for darkness. The bulb
burned on for a moment, then shattered, sending slivers of glass
through its cage and onto her bare legs. She screamed as darkness
fell on her like a prison.

Her hands reached again, her eyes closed.

She didn't care anymore. Didn't care.

(No.)

Her finger brushed her bruised nipple once, and she sighed.

Crying, she leaned her head back, and allowed her hands to drop
again behind her back. Her shoulders eased their symphony of pain,
thanking her profusely. But her breasts and her clitoris and her
vagina screamed at her, cursing her for teasing, cursing her for
resisting.

She closed her eyes, and struggled to control her breathing.
Somehow, she'd stopped, and she remained in control. She could feel
sharp slivers of glass against her shins, and thighs, and she hoped
that none had cut her, at least not badly. Slowly, she moved her
legs back together, a parody of modesty that she didn't feel. She
wanted sex, and girls didn't have sex with their legs together, did
they?

Her body ached worse than before, and she tried to ignore it.

She sat naked, and in the dark again, dragons rising from the gloom.
But this time, they didn't threaten, only teased, and watched her.

The concrete wasn't comfortable, and the dirt against her skin felt,
well, dirty.

Nevertheless, she slowed her breathing, and tried to relax.

Only a wine cellar with a furnace. Not a grave.

Her prison. Not an amusement park.

Somewhere above, he was bidding the girls good-bye.

She sighed, and squeezed her eyes shut. A single tear of frustration
rolled down her cheek.

(Control.)

(It was over.)

(I am the key.)

The darkness deepened, and she gladly let go of consciousness.
Sleep claimed her, even while her body continued to throb.


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