THE LIBRARY: The Electrician Part 11

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

"Come in, come in," he told the two plain-clothed cops after they showed him their identifications in the early evening gloom. "Sorry about the mess. Where's Mrs. Barnes?"

"She couldn't make it," said the first cop, standing in the middle of the shadowy living room. "She asked us to talk to you, if you don't mind."

"No, of course not," he said, going over to sit on a tattered easy chair. "Anything I can do to help. Sit down, sit down, officers."

"Detectives," corrected the second cop, moving forward, looking meaningfully at a standing lamp. "Would it be better to turn on a light, sir?"
He chuckled. "I work with lights all day long, offi....I mean, detective. So when I get home, I like to enjoy God's natural light as long as possible." The room was barely illuminated by the glowing end of the sunset, but it was still just enough to see.

The two cops exchanged a look, then shrugged and sat down on the edge of the sofa.

"So you saw Alissa Barnes the day before she disappeared?" the first cop asked.

"Oh yes," he replied. "She came in the back door. From school, I guess. Pretty girl. Very pretty girl."

The two cops glanced at each other again. "You noticed her then?" said the second.

"Sure," he replied. "I'm human, detective. A girl like that walks in anywhere, you notice."

"A girl like what, sir?" said the first.

"Come on, detective," he said. "So young, so attractive, so lively.... Don't you guys watch TV? Beer commercials?"

"Did you notice anything about her other than...," the second detective said with a hint of mild distaste.

"Her face and bod, you mean?" he suggested. "Not really. Not then. Sure, she was surprised to see me, but her mom told her who I was and she relaxed."

"Had you ever see her before?" the first asked.

"No," he answered honestly.

"You said 'not then,'" said the second cop. "What did you mean?"
"I meant, later, when I saw her upstairs. She looked a little preoccupied."

"What do you mean?" asked the first. "Preoccupied?"
"I don't know. She seemed to be thinking about something."

"Thinking about what? asked the second.

"I don't know what."

"Did she talk to you?" asked the first.


"Didn't say a word to you?" asked the second.


"What did she do?" asked the first.
He thought about it for a second. "Well, let's see. She came upstairs, eating an apple ... stopped in the hallway, thinking I guess, then went to her room."

"Her room?" said the second. "How did you know it was her room?"

He looked at the second detective in surprise. "I don't know. Where else would she go? It wasn't the bathroom, that I could tell you. I knew where the bathroom was. I had passed that."

"Where were you?" asked the first.

"In the hallway, by the bathroom," he answered.

"Why were you there?" asked the first.

"Checking the wires," he said. "They had a flickering problem. Lights kept going on and off."

The second detective shook his head. "Did you see the girl again?"

"Nope," said the electrician. "Found a frayed wire, took care of it, then checked the fusebox down in the cellar."

"Didn't see her sneaking down the hall toward the front door?" asked the first.


"Did you hear anything suspicious?" asked the second. "Anything that could've been someone trying to sneak out?"

The electrician thought about it, his mind filling with images of her under him in the attic, her wrists wired over her head, her mouth sealed, her smooth, firm thighs rubbing his hips, his cock deep inside her tight, warm, wet walls....

"No, can't say that I did."

"Sir," said the first detective. "Where were you that night?"

"Me?" the electrician wondered. "Here, I guess."

"You guess?" the second detective pressed.

"Well, I hadn't thought about it until now. Yeah...I finished that job, got in my van, and drove home."

"Didn't go out at all?" asked the first.

The electrician frowned as if thinking back. "Went out for dinner." He smiled at them. "Don't do much cooking here."

"Where did you go?" asked the second detective.

He told them that he went to a drive through fast food joint, then drove east, so he could eat by the water.

"Anyone see you?" asked the first cop.

"There were people there, but they noticed me as much as I noticed them."

They glanced at each other again.

"Sir," said the first cop. "Do you mind if we have a look around?"

"What?" said the electrician in surprise. "Why?"

"Just curious," said the second, shrugging. "You'd be surprised how certain clues turn up in the strangest places. On the bottom of your shoes...or even caught in the crack of your tool box."

"Don't you need a search warrant for this?"

"Not if you give us permission," said the first knowingly.

"Well geez," said the electrician, seemingly trying to figure out what they were getting at. "All I wanted to do is help. And I got nothing to hide...."

"That's good, sir," said the second detective, standing. "We can look around then?"

The electrician got up as well. "As long as you don't mess up the place anymore than it is.... Sure, I guess. Why not?"

"Thank you, sir," said the first detective, also getting up. "Just so we can tell the old lady that we left no stone unturned. You know how it is. I mean, she's nearly dead with worry. Between you and me? I think the girl’s flown the coop, but hey, you never know...."

"Can we turn a light on in here?" the second detective complained, stumbling toward the kitchen doorway.

"Sure," said the electrician. "It's late now, anyway. Turn on all the lights you want."

The second cop flicked on the living room's overhead light. The current went to the bulb, then across the ceiling, down the connecting wall, and into Alissa's right nipple.

She was in the wall, behind a thin steel door, behind the refrigerator. She was wedged up against a water pipe, the steel rod deep between her firm, round ass cheeks, her wrists wired behind it.

Had she been wired before, to the kitchen chair, then she was nearly mummified now with electrical cable. It imprisoned her elbows, upper arms and shoulders to the pipe behind her. It wrapped her stomach, waist, ribs, and chest. It crushed her tits, flattening the parts that weren't bulging through the bunches. It covered her throat like a horizontally ribbed turtleneck, keeping her head up and nearly choking off all sound.

What remaining noise she could make was muffled by shining blue pipe sealant strips wrapped tightly around her mouth and head. Then the wire continued, wrapping the rest of her face -- blinding her from the bridge of her nose to her eyebrows.

The wire covered her legs from her upper thighs to her upper knees, then again from her lower knees to her shins. Her ankles were encased in wire brackets -- an open metal maw that tightened into a tube to contain a bunch of cables -- that kept her on tiptoes.

And then, all over her, were the electrical clips. Wires ending in alligator teeth, clamped to her nipples, her vaginal lips, her clit, and even wedged deep in her sphincter.

The kitchen light switch sent current into her left tit. Alissa squealed, jerking in place with the first bite of the electricity. But he had fixed it that after the initial shock, the current lessened to a steady, stimulating stream -- like a shark humming.

He thought the cops might have heard her muffled screech, but when they didn't stop, he realized they must have thought it was merely the old appliance's fan whining.

The basement light shocked her right labia lip. The workroom light sent a pulse into her left fold. But by then they were too far away to hear her choked, muffled, screams.

The cops looked over all his equipment, but didn't see anything unusual for an electrician. The second cop followed the first out, and reached to switch off the light.

"Don't bother," said the electrician. "Once they're on, they're on. I might want to do some work anyway, after you leave."

The second cop shrugged. "It's your electric bill," he said.

The electrician just smiled.

The bathroom light sent a shock deep into the girl's anus. The electrician had the cops leave all the lights on. He waited downstairs as they checked his bedroom and storeroom, standing by the icebox, staring at the narrow space behind it.

There were no wires from upstairs. He hadn't had enough time to make that work. But he imagined what the living room, kitchen, bathroom, basement, and workroom switches were doing to her tits, cunt, and asshole. Now there was only one left, for the coup de grace.

"Well, thank you, sir," said the first cop at the base of the stairs. "Sorry to bother you."

"No problem," said the electrician. "I just can't help but wonder what you were looking for." All the clothes he had stolen from the girl's room and the lingerie shop were back in his duffel bag, in the trunk of his car.

"Sometimes," said the second cop in mild disgust, "we don't even know...." They turned toward the front door.

"Here," said the electrician. "Let me get the porch light."

The clip he had so carefully clamped to Alissa's clit sprang to life.

Had he heard her head thunk against the pipe inside the living room wall? Perhaps....

"Hope I was of some help," he called after the cops.

"Every little bit helps," said the first cop, opening his unmarked cruiser door.

"Don't worry, sir," said the second, walking right by the trunk which held the semen and sweat soaked clothes he had repeatedly raped the bound and gagged girl in. "She'll turn up."

"Or on," he thought, resisting the temptation to glance back at the kitchen. What he did say was, "Thanks. Let me know if there's anything more I can do."

Then he closed the door. He stood, looking at the wall, imagining how she was shuddering against her will inside, orgasm after orgasm assailing her as the current kept her flesh dancing. Then, purposely leaving the lights on, he casually sat down to watch TV.