Message-ID: <40663asstr$1044058203@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Message-ID: <20030131202824.31437.qmail@nym.alias.net> From: Crimson Dragon X-ASSTR-Original-Date: 31 Jan 2003 20:28:24 -0000 Subject: {ASSM} (New) Dawn of Time [010/157] (MF+, bond, control) {Crimson Dragon} Date: Fri, 31 Jan 2003 19:10:03 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, gill-bates -----BEGIN PGP SIGNED MESSAGE----- ==================================================================== 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 10 ==================================================================== (C) Copyright 2002 - All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon (dcrimson@yahoo.com) ==================================================================== The invisible wall disappeared as they passed through the doorway. Sandra flinched as she tested with her fingers to ensure that her head wouldn't smack headlong into it as she struggled to catch up to the constant tug on her scalp. But it wasn't there, and she passed through the opening and into the silent world as if there had never been an obstruction. She avoided raising her eyes as she moved methodically and as quickly as she could, her knees pumping and arms working in unusual harmony. The journey ended when the pressure of his hand in her hair abated, and the blonde strands fell beside her face like a shroud. After a few minutes, she dared to raise her eyes. Confusion set in for a moment; she wasn't used to seeing cubicles from this angle. Sandra nearly rose to a kneeling position, and then thought better of it. God, where was he? She twisted her head, caught a glimpse of him behind her. She flushed, and tried to press her thighs together. Either way, she knew, he was getting a perfect view of her. She sighed. He was getting a view no matter what. Christ. Making her crawl. Through the office. She tried to ignore him. She had been led to Melanie's office, where she remained in the middle of the cubicle. Melanie was a secretary, a temp, perhaps a college student, brunette, long legged and attractive. Sandra idly wondered why the gunman hadn't chosen Melanie over her in the first place. The desks were cluttered, and Melanie, hand frozen while pushing a mouse, stared at an unmoving computer screen. Sandra knew the girl, at least in passing -- she'd been hired recently, was overworked with the cutbacks that were taking place. They'd been introduced once; Sandra may have passed some typing her way a few times. She couldn't recall the girl's last name. Sandra's shoulder registered a soft touch. She'd expected his fingers to be hard and calloused, but they weren't. She looked up to find him crouched beside her. "Get up," he instructed her. With relief, she rose first to her knees, then she climbed to her bare feet. He guided her to one of Melanie's desks. "Sit." Sandra looked at the cluttered desk, began to shuffle some of the paper to make room to sit on the desk. "It doesn't matter," he remarked with a sweep of an arm. Papers, pens, and various office supplies fell with a clatter that made Sandra jump, her breasts jumping with her. "Sit," he said a little more impatiently. Sandra stepped gingerly through the clutter now littering the floor, trying not to step on any tacks or sharp pens, and pulled herself up to sit on the higher surface. The gunman was investigating Melanie. With his back turned, maybe she could ... "Sandra?" His voice surprised her and she looked away guiltily. Could he read her mind, too? "Not a smart idea." She shivered, and re-wrapped her arms around her chest. At this point, it was more to control the shivers than to avoid showing off. He'd seen her body, from all angles. Christ, she'd had to crawl for him. Seeing her bare breasts now, simply wasn't a huge deal anymore. "She new?" he asked. Sandra nodded. The gunman avoided touching the frozen secretary; Sandra didn't know why. But she was sure that the girl wasn't aware of them. "What's wrong with her? Is she alive?" Sandra asked innocently. "She's suspended. As you will be when I'm done here." Done here? What the hell did that mean? Instead of asking important questions, Sandra asked the one that related more to her situation. "When will you be done?" The man laughed a little. "Time doesn't have a lot of meaning. At least not to you." That remark made no sense at all, but she didn't dare ask again. He was inspecting the frozen secretary again. "Who is she?" "Her name is Melanie. She's a temp, I think." The man nodded. "She's cute." Suddenly, Sandra suspected that the girl was going to regret being "cute". "Do you want to see her naked? Then you wouldn't be the only one," the man said with a smile. Her answer wouldn't make any difference, she knew, but she tried anyway. "Not particularly." Sandra glanced back at her open office door. Her bra, her panties, her blouse, and her slacks were folded up neatly, lying on the filing cabinet. And her shoes. She wiggled her bare toes, her shoes were lying back there, too. Suddenly, she had a vision of what she looked like before the phone had gone dead. He'd watched her, like he was inspecting Melanie, maybe even touched her. She shivered. "I want you, Sandra, to pay attention, but I don't want you to say anything. Nothing. Understand?" His voice startled her, but she nodded automatically. The frozen secretary wasn't frozen anymore. She moved the mouse for a moment, and then realising something was amiss, she glanced around. Melanie's eyes widened at the sight of Sandra, naked, arms across her bare breasts seated on her desk, office supplies strewn across the cubicle. "What the hell?" Melanie uttered before her eyes fell on the man calmly pointing the gun at her chest. Melanie's mouth clacked shut at the sight of the gun. Sandra knew exactly what the girl was feeling. "Melanie?" The girl whirled in her chair, facing the gun. "See Sandra?" "Miss Winters?" The man nodded. "I want you to take off your clothes, too." "Excuse me?" "Melanie? See this gun? I haven't had to use it yet, but I can, and I will." The girl didn't hesitate as long as Sandra had, perhaps motivated by the fact that Sandra was already naked, that the man could force her to remove her clothing through ... persuasion. Perhaps, Melanie wasn't as shy as Sandra. In the end, Melanie stood bare and shaking, as she tried to protect her modesty with her hands. Her clothing littered the carpet at her bare feet, similarly to the way Sandra's had after she'd been forced to strip. Only the man wasn't making Melanie fold her own clothes, or remove her jewellery, and she wasn't on her hands and knees. Yet. The man let her hold her hands up to shield herself, for the time being. The gunman turned to Sandra. "See, she's naked too." Sandra afraid to talk, simply nodded. Melanie began to sob, her bare body shaking. The gunman ignored her. "I want to show you something, Sandra." He reached forward, pulling the girl's hands from shielding her bare breasts. Melanie resisted for a moment, but then allowed the man to reveal her nudity. "She's cute -- no beauty, but cute enough. Sandra, I want you to know. I could make you have sex with her." Sandra blushed, and tried to control the shivers. "Please no," she whispered. Melanie echoed the sentiment, pulling at her wrists. But the gunman held her calmly. "She'll forget everything." Sandra shook her head, her hair dragging across her bare shoulders. "Get down on your knees." Both girls began to lower themselves to the floor, but the gunman stopped Melanie with a finger under her chin. Sandra dropped, her thighs resting against her bare heels. Papers and pens littered the floor near her bent knees. "Melanie? I want you to choose. Face, Stomach or Sex." The girl shook, tears still falling from her eyes. "What?" "Choose!" The man roared into her face. She flinched, stepping back until her bare thighs touched her chair. Sandra recoiled also at the force of the exclamation. The girl hadn't provoked that. Watching the gunman more closely, Sandra couldn't see real anger there, only a calculating menace, perhaps meant to throw the naked girl off balance, not give her time to think. It worked. Without thought, the girl's lips formed the words: "Face. Oh God." Without hesitation, he brought the gun up and aimed it into her face. For a sick second, Sandra was sure he was going to kill her, blood and brains about to splatter her bare skin. The kneeling girl flinched, hands beginning to raise to ward off the oncoming onslaught of gore. "God, no. Sex! Sex! I'll have sex with you. With her. Whatever you want. Don't kill me." Melanie was babbling, anything to stop this. "Leave her be," Sandra whispered. "Do whatever you want with me." The gunman turned towards Sandra. "I thought that I told you not to speak." Sandra clamped her mouth closed with an audible snap. She wanted to apologise, wanted to stop this. But she didn't. Couldn't tear her eyes from the man and the naked, cowering secretary. And then, without warning, he reversed the gun, bringing the handle down against Melanie's cheek in a pitiless arc. Melanie collapsed in a wail of pain. Sandra was on her bare feet, charging before her brain had a chance to kick in, hands curled into angry fists. "You fucking bastard." Her voice sounded like someone else, someone brave and clothed. Melanie had collapsed in a heap at the gunman's feet, sobbing uncontrollably into her hands, drops of crimson falling between her fingers. "My teeth. Oh God, my teeth," the girl wailed. Sandra stopped short, the barrel of the gun jammed between her bare breasts. "Shoot me, then," she whispered fiercely. She closed her eyes, sure that the next sound she heard would be a bullet ripping through her exposed ribcage. After a time, she noticed the wailing at their feet had halted, the world had returned to an eerie silence. The barrel of the gun remained pressed into her skin, but the bullet never ripped into her. When she opened her eyes, she blinked in bewilderment. Melanie had returned to her chair, her clothes re-materialised upon her body. Her mouth was whole, and the girl obliviously stared at the unmoving screen, hand again rested on the mouse. He let her move away from the gun, though she could sense that it remained aimed at her bare body, somewhere. Sandra walked around Melanie carefully, reaching out with a tentative finger to touch the corner of Melanie's mouth. No blood, no expression of pain, nothing to indicate that the girl had been naked and pistol whipped only seconds before. Sandra pulled back her finger from the cold, hardened flesh of Melanie's lips with a cry of dismay. "She'll be fine. It never happened. For her." Sandra nodded slowly. Somehow, she didn't understand how, but somehow, it had never happened. Melanie had never been naked, hadn't suffered the blow. But she had. She HAD. A vision of Sandra, returning to her own desk, continuing on where the phone had dropped, mindlessly trying to secure funding for the new lab projects. Somehow, when this was all over, it was gone. She hadn't crawled. She hadn't begged. She hadn't stripped for this stranger. His voice cut through her thoughts. "It isn't suitable language for a lady." She looked at him in bewilderment. "Huh?" "Fucking bastard." Sandra cringed. "I'm sorry. I didn't ..." "I'm a bastard. Surely," the man spoke quietly. The gun never left her heart. "But 'fucking', that isn't something that should come from a lady's mouth, is it?" Shocked, Sandra nodded dumbly. "I'm sorry." After a few minutes, she continued. "I won't remember any of this, will I?" He smiled, tucking the gun back into his waistband. "Will you?" He smiled again, enigmatically. "Is this happening? To me?" "Sort of," he replied. "By the way, I won't punish you for the outburst, only for your use of the word 'fucking'. Do we understand each other?" She nodded, tears beginning to form. "I just want to leave," she whispered. She sank to her knees to the carpet, in the spot where Melanie had fallen. Because, she could hurt until he released her. That much she knew. "Soon," he said, looking down at her naked kneeling form. "Soon." -----BEGIN PGP SIGNATURE----- Version: 2.6.3ia Charset: noconv iQEVAwUBPjrcEExM3srBk85hAQFb6AgAghdai1nGJMdt0NouhC+TAhr8J/OBBDyd imCnMvL1PDrXaLIlRyo1g8DLPq9ah5XDeFhXbmaxnycosvgsY3+j92H3FS5IlhAA 7gzGGSl/pTqft9fncvN4lDf/NwrvM0FmvVezy8O8THV6wg21gwIsKScdH6jB+Kjw 4RljulMpdTl2tJpiNJJ1fjadWnivV2DtFDDDwCXF9BVghwskikyWZi7erExKZNmk wPRWUSiku1cL9odeNhMLch0okaCsIGXq+HKQ4yKhJRpGqDyO/UqI4RgBehgizJID /HprJtwZ96tujRTNOaABjQA6kP19jqrSKZ2tzapJ6+p28sFXDAH8+g== =BkAr -----END PGP SIGNATURE----- -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}| |Archive at Hosted by | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+