THE LIBRARY: The Electrician Part 1

This is a newly rewritten story, involving "Privateer" - get to know him....

White Slavery Procurers are bad enough, but when someone decides to start snatching pretty girls on their own, it’s much worse: more difficult to find out, more difficult to run them down, and more difficult to help the victim … if they’re ever found. This is a sordid tale of one such sort … who soon … well, I’ll let you find out for yourself.


He sahand04w her running up the driveway through the kitchen window. He immediately knew what he wanted to do, and almost immediately knew what he was going to do.

It was the way her long, straight, dark, parted-in-the-middle hair bounced behind her. It was the way her strong, firm, young, high breasts heaved in the light cotton dress as she ran. It was the way her sweet face smiled in happiness, life, and anticipation as she got closer to the kitchen door. It was all these things, and more, that caused him to make an instantaneous decision.

He turned back toward the living room, where her pictures covered the mantle piece. Pictures of her in the school choir, pictures of her graduating junior high, pictures of her in her prom dress.... She looked totally sweet, and if she had been wearing a bra, maybe he would have taken pity on her. But she wasn’t wearing a bra now, so his perverted mind instantly clicked over to “stupid slut.”

He turned back as she came in the kitchen door, her form sinking into his brain as if it were cement. Big brown-olive eyes, straight nose, sweet red lips, perfect teeth, oval face, slim arms, nice hands, short unpainted nails.

Summer minidress: beige with subtle, faded purple squares and little green flowers, flocked around the breasts, held up by a single, slim, elastic halter around the back of her slim neck. Long, lightly tanned legs, dainty feet in sandals....

Five-five -- five-six in the sandals. Thirty-six, twenty-three, thirty-four...thirty-six D… thirty-six bra-less D. She would never be so perfect again….

"Mom," she started, her voice a song, then stopped when she saw him. "Oh," she said.

Her overweight mother came out of the pantry. "Hello dear. This is the electrician. I had to call him because the lights kept flashing on and off."

"A loose connection somewhere," he said reassuringly. "Nothing to worry about. I'll take care of it." Then he picked up his toolbox and headed upstairs.

"Okay," he heard the girl say to her mother. "Cool."

"What are you going to do, dear?" he heard her mom reply. "Not much time left in the afternoon."

"Had to stay late to work on the dance," he heard her say as she rummaged inside the refrigerator.

"Sure, honey," he heard the mother reply. "You gonna do your homework?"

"Sure." He heard the fridge close.

"Will you be eating?" her mom asked.

"I ate at school. This'll do fine."

"Okay, dear."

He smiled as he stepped out into the upstairs hallway. These modern, single, suburban mothers. They don't even try to safeguard their kids anymore...let them do what they want, go where they want …alone….

For the final time he thought about the odds for his success. But then he took a look into the girl's room, and all worries left him. No matter what happened, it would be worth it....


The girl came bounding around the corner and strode to her doorway in the middle of the hall. She took another bite of an apple and stepped through -- taking for granted the two windows on the far wall, obscured by the branches of the maple tree just outside, her bed and bureaus to the left, her desk and closets to the right, and the light switch just inside.

She paused just before flicking on the light, remembering the electrician. It was in that moment that he stepped out the shadows, pushed the tazer against her side, clamped his gloved hand over her mouth, and thumbed the switch.

He knew exactly what voltage to set it. After all, he was an electrician. There was a small snapping noise and the girl's lips opened, pieces of apple spitting into her covered palm. She jerked in place, her beautiful breasts jiggling, then fell heavily onto the bed – him riding her like a lamb..

She was paralyzed, her brain overwhelmed. The electrician only took a second to stare at her lovely young body stretched across the mattress before he quickly checked the hallway and listened intently for any activity from downstairs. He heard her fat middle-aged mother puttering around the kitchen.

He quickly gathered the girl up, almost gasping when he felt her chest against his arms. So full, so firm.... He had his arms wrapped around her torso, under her buoyant breasts, her head lolling down on her chest. He dragged her out of her room, her heels sliding on the carpet, and down the hall where they had come from.

Afternoon light poured in, infusing the scene with bright illumination as he all but silently dragged the unconscious young girl by the back stair's doorway. He slowed, careful to make no sound, totally aware of the insensible girl's drooling mouth and hanging arms.

But all he heard was the clanging of pots and the radio going on. As the muffled music made its way up the steps, he couldn't help but smile wickedly, and continued to pull the girl slowly toward the attic door.

He laid her carefully down on the floor and then gently worked the doorknob. It flicked open with hardly a sound. He swung it wide while listening for any tell-tale creak. Finally he kneeled, put his arms under the girl's shoulders and knees, then easily hefted her up.

A hundred and five pounds, maybe. He had carried a lot more. So it was relatively easy to take one step at a time up into the attic. He had been there before. He had checked the cellar and the attic for loose wires as soon as he had arrived, so he knew the layout.

Sloped colonial ceiling, three brick support columns, steel support beams along the sides, two small circular windows at opposite ends, a single, hanging, naked lightbulb, and a wooden floor covered in gray pads.

He lay the girl down in the middle of the floor. God, she was pretty.

He immediately moved back down to pick up his toolbox, which was lying just inside her bedroom. When he left, he silently closed the door tightly behind him. Then he was back in the attic. She hadn't moved, as he knew she wouldn't. The charge he gave her would put out a girl her size and age for at least fifteen minutes.

He kneeled beside her and opened the toolbox. He worked as quickly and professionally as an electrician with twenty-five years experience could. In ten minutes he was all but done. She was on her back, her arms above her head, her wrists tied together with black rubber-coated wire around one of the steel support beams.

He had first tied her wrists together with four wraps each, then noosed them tight by then wrapping the wire between her wrists. There was no way, short of cutting her hands off, that she could twist them loose.

He had then bound each of her ankles, pulled her legs about three and a half feet apart, then stretched the wires up to two slats in the ceiling so her feet hung about a foot and a half off the attic mats.

Finally he wedged a hard rubber, four-way plug cover into her mouth -- so that two prongs wedged down her tongue against the roof of her mouth, while the other two prongs pressed against the inside of her cheeks. Then came the newly developed, dull black, insulated electrician's tape.

The swaths went from just under her nose to the line of her chin. They stretched from ear to ear, his professional eye choosing exactly the right length. He pulled it perfectly taut and pressed it deep into her skin perfectly tight. It adhered there like cement.

He stood above her, breathless at the sight of her lying there in her thin cotton dress, her shapely legs hanging, her chest slowly rising and falling, her breasts swelling the flocked bodice with every breath.

"Excuse me?" he heard. The shock was so great he lost his hard-on. "Excuse me?"

A nano-second later he realized the voice was not coming from just behind him, but from downstairs. He quickly left the attic and stuck his head down the back stairs.

"Yes, ma'm?" he called.

"Oh!" the woman cried from the bottom of the stairs. "You startled me. My, you move on cat's feet don't you?"

He smiled hearteningly. "Comes with the territory," he told her. "I try to be as helpful and as unobtrusive as possible. Don't want to bother anyone...."

"Well, that's very nice," the woman said. "I just wanted to know how much longer you think it'll take."

He thought quickly. The flickering lights were easy. It was just a loose fuse down in the cellar. "Shouldn't be more than a half-hour," he finally said. "I just need to trace some more wires."

"Oh, that's fine," said the woman. "I'll have my dinner then."

"Sure," he told her encouragingly. "That's a good idea. I should be finished up here when you are down there. Take your time...."

She went away, and so did he, up to the girl in the attic, sealing the door silently behind him. She was still comatose, her eyes closed.

Breathless, he kneeled down again. He hooked his fingers inside her bodice and started slowly pulling it down. The flocked top, with loose elastic inside, was no problem.

Her tits was amazing. Round, solid, and dense, they had tiny quarter-sized, light pink aureoles, and small nipples. They, too, were lightly tanned, with just a hint of where a bathing suit had lain across them. He gently, oh so gently, squeezed, feeling their solid, natural, heft in his hands.

He laid the elastic flocking tight in the groove at the bottom of her boobs, then took the light hem of the dress' skirt and started slowly lifting it toward him. There were her extraordinary thighs and then the simple, white, panties -- the packaged sporty kind that now every underwear maker distributed. Even though they covered the rear and crotch, they revealed the entire leg, and the brand-name band at the top was somehow even sexier than French cut lace.

His wire cutters were in his hand before he was even completely aware of them. With a pinch of the material, a pull, and snip, they were off one hip, and then the other. He pulled the panties away, nearly dizzy at the sight of her thin, smooth, silky peachfuzz of cunt hair.

He could stand it off no longer. He forced down his zipper, freeing his erection before it tore open his pants. He gripped it tightly, taking a deep breath. He turned his head just in time to see her eyelids flicker. She was waking up. He climbed between her legs, his arms on either side of her chest as her eyes finally blinked, then opened.

"Hi," he said quietly. “Guess what happens now….”

Then he started guiding his cock between her vaginal lips.

The girl started, her eyes widening, a sound deep in her throat. Her arms tensed, her legs pulled, and then she knew. She started trying to scream.


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