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Message-ID: <44199asstr$1062619805@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Crimson Dragon <dcrimsonp@nym.alias.net>
Subject: {ASSM} (New) Dawn of Time [157/157] (MF+, bond, control) {Crimson Dragon}
Date: Wed,  3 Sep 2003 16:10:05 -0400
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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 157

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

(C) Copyright 2002 - All Rights Reserved

Crimson Dragon (dcrimson@yahoo.com)

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

"I am the key," she whispered, her voice echoing normally about the
silent classroom. A pencil appeared between her fingers, and she
started as though waking from a dream.

The girl next to her glanced up, a look of annoyance flitting across
her face. She bent back to the exam, concentration pinching her
cheeks. At the front of the classroom, the Latino teaching assistant
cast her a warning look, but didn't rise to lecture her.

Dawn lowered her eyes, and the exam swam back into focus.

They were all alive again, moving through the smoothness of time
like swimmers through a still lake. The time haze was gone, blown
away like so much smoke. Dawn sighed.

Once, when she'd been younger, she'd started a car in a closed
garage, the old Buick quickly filling the enclosed space with carbon
monoxide. She'd escaped, but not before darkness had risen, like a
tide, into her vision. She blinked, feeling the same helplessness,
same inevitability. The darkness rose, but she managed to push it
back down.

With a bolt of surprise, she realised that her breasts ached, and
she thought that her panties might even be damp.

(Panties? Jeans? Sweatshirt?)

She nearly pulled at the collar of her shirt to see if she was
wearing a bra. She sighed contentedly. Clothing. Such a simple
thing.

Had she fallen asleep at her desk. She'd been tired. John, and the
exam keeping her from sleep. Had she dreamed it?

She shook her head. Glancing at the closed door, she shivered.

(Did I really do that to get out of here? Strip in front of
 all these students and pleasure myself?)

Her breasts tingled at the idea, and she forced herself to pick back
up the pencil, giving her fingers something else to do besides brush
at her breast through her clothing.

The darkness welled up again, and she lay her head down on her desk.

"Dawn? Are you all right?"

The Latino student looked worriedly towards the door. He'd probably
never had to deal with someone sick in an exam room. She stifled a
giggle. He probably didn't even have procedures.

"I'm fine. Just resting," she called. She pushed back at the
darkness, as it retreated again.

(Can't pass out here. Only a dream. Only a dream. A wildly
 detailed, wildly arousing dream.)

She opened her eyes, and the proctor shook his head and returned,
somewhat thankfully, to his reading at the front of the classroom.

(I couldn't free him. I tried.)

(I am the key.)

She picked back up the pencil, and gazed down at the exam questions.
She couldn't read it; it was almost as if it were written in a
foreign language.

Her eyes drew her attention to her wrists.

(Oh, my, God.)

A faint, thin line wrapped her right wrist, almost as if
 (she'd worn handcuffs)
 something had pressed into her skin there. She dropped the
pencil and traced the line with her finger. It didn't hurt, but it
was there. No denying it. There was a matching ring about her left
wrist, exactly where it should be.

Suddenly, she was tired. Very tired. More tired.

Her eyes slipped down the page of questions, and rested on the last
one.

"In your own words, describe the nature of Time."

She nearly laughed, but picked up the pencil for the final time.
Writing furiously, her mind cleared and the words flowed.

The answer, she though, might just surprise the professor.

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

She stood in front of the door, her hand resting on the handle.

She swallowed heavily suddenly nervous. The other students had left,
even the proctor, only her, alone in the last room.

She'd already escaped her last prison, hadn't she? She'd been strong
enough. Somehow.

Her thoughts twisted to the exam, a smile gracing her lips.

The professor was going to be surprised, oh yes. And she'd pass,
after all, she was sure.

But that wasn't her accomplishment for the day. She was the key,
somehow, and she'd escaped.

She glanced again at the handle. Voices hummed outside, students
carrying on their ordinary lives. Her breasts ached, and she thought
of him, somewhere in the world, out there, perhaps waiting for
another time, another place.

She shivered, and hoped to God that he was aching as much as she.

The visions were gone. The time haze was gone. The silent, strange
universe, she'd returned to normal, whatever that was. Her body
ached, and she only wanted to go home, have a long bath, and relax
and watch the sun set. Alone.

She twisted the door knob, and the door swung open. No stabbing
desire. No gut wrenching pain. She was aroused, but it was residual,
not induced by the act of opening the door. It would be all right,
now. She supposed her reaction and fear might be Pavlovian, but
probably not.

She closed her eyes, and saw herself standing in a sea of green, her
body bare, her senses clear, the universe swirling around her, her
body throbbing in a time that was timeless.

"I am the key," she whispered.

She stepped out into the hall, joining the river of humanity flowing
towards the beautiful spring day. She took an odd comfort in those
voices surrounding her, though she walked alone.

"It's over," she whispered.

The sunshine kissed her face, and the universe felt right and free
again.


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-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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