THE LIBRARY: The Electrician Part 12

Elec12THE ELECTRICIAN Part 12
CONTINUED FROM HERE - This is a newly rewritten story, involving "Privateer" - get to know him....

He waited until the street was dark and virtually untraveled, so he could see if there were any new vehicles parked nearby. Then he slowly turned off the lights, as if he was getting ready for bed. Only after he checked every auto from the safety of his shuddered front window did he move into the dark kitchen and start pulling the icebox out from the wall.

She was a sodden, sexy, comatose shape inside. It took him hours to extricate her, as it had taken him hours to install her, but finally she lay gagged, yet unbound, on the kitchen floor, her nipples and vagina actually dribbling her own juice.

By then he was so hard he was hardly able to bind her wrists to her thighs and wire her big toes wide to the base of the kitchen counter, before ramming his cock up her. As the visiting detectives, back at their station house, finished their short report concerning their uninteresting interview with the last person to see the missing Alissa Barnes before her disappearance, he was coming into her shuddering little body.

As he rutted, he knew it was time. He had pushed the issue, and now he had to get rid of her. Just in case her family was desperate enough to hire private investigators, he couldn't afford to have her at his place anymore. But every time he looked at her slick, wet, sweat-and-semen soaked body on his bed -- elbows and wrists lashed behind her, ankles crossed and likewise lashed, jaw wedged open and mouth plugged -- he longed to fuck her again.

It was amazing how her youth and beauty withstood his onslaught. By all rights she should've been frighteningly haggard and unappealing, but even after the abduction, assault, torment, and captivity, her skin was still soft, her shape sexy, and her comatose face tempting.

No matter. She had to go. And just in case some local cop decided to stake out his place, she had to go out the way she came in ... unseen.

That didn't mean he was going to make it easy on her. And when she finally came around -- her youthful strength finally dragging her out of her post-wall stupor and subjugation -- it was already too late for her to do anything about it. Her eyes snapped open to see the underside of leather straps. She tried to cry out in fear but the padding filling her mouth prevented it.

He looked down, chortling at her renewed expression of shock...or what he could see of it as the harness obscured a quarter of her face. A strap sealing her mouth buckled at the back of her head -- holding the gag deep within, and jamming her jaw open. Straps coming up from either side met in a triangle over her nose to blinker her eyes, then tightened across the top of her head. Straps at the bottom crisscrossed her throat and buckled tightly under her chin.

Perhaps he should have used his electrician’s tape, but why risk it?

She tried to scream and struggle, but it was in vain. He looked down to admire the way the white, stretch-lace, deep u-necked, sleeveless, backless catsuit adhered to her form and lovely legs. And he adored the way the black electrical wire was set off by the lace and her creamy skin.

Her big toes were tied, as were her ankles, with wire coming from there to sink under her instep. More wire was bunched above and below her knees. Then wire sunk into her hip bones and around her tiny waist to allow strands to sink deep between her vaginal lips. Those stomach wires also helped anchor more wire around her wrists, elbows, and upper arms, which continued across her ribs, then below and above her bulging chest.

The elastic u-neck of the catsuit sunk into her tits on the outside of her aureoles since her erect nipples were clipped and yanked toward each other by a two inch wire.

Finally awake, Alissa felt it all -- her head going back, the tendons on her forehead and neck bulging, her collarbones becoming more pronounced, and her imprisoned body writhing.

He laughed quietly, taking in her shock and suffering. "You should see yourself, baby," he whispered. "You never looked better."

They were in the gloom of his garage, a pale yellow light in the ceiling being only one of two illuminations. He had her back in his open duffel bag, half in and half out of his van, her ass on the vehicle's rear lip. The small interior light of the van also bathed her in weak white as the fenced-in sections of his equipment loomed all around her.

She didn't know what he was going to do, but she begged him not to anyway, shaking her head, pleading with her expression, and starting to cry.

"That's all right," he said soothingly, letting his fingers play in her hair and caressing her cheek. "That's all right, baby. Don't you know by now that I won't let anyone else do anything to you? You're my little fuck toy...." And, as he let the words sink in, he snapped the dust mask in place over her nose and mouth.

It was the kind workman used to protect themselves from mild sawdust or other such airborne hazards. It adhered with a thin elastic around the head and cupped the nostril and lips. You could get them at almost any pharmacy, and certainly any hardware store. Only those didn't come complete with a drug-soaked ball of cloth glued inside....

It sank wetly over Alissa' nostrils and further muffled her mouth. Immediately smelling the sick sweetness of the drug, she shook her head wildly, bleating as his hands lowered to squeeze her right tit and tug on the wire crushing her clit.

"That's it," he cooed, twisting and tugging in time with his words. "Come on. Breathe, baby, breathe. We're not going anywhere 'til you're good and helpless...!"

Lightning sparked up from between her legs and chest with every "it", "on", "breathe", "anywhere", "good", and "helpless". She jerked in place with each one, grunting, then groaned piteously.

"Come on!" he insisted, gathering her tight rump in his hands and grinding her pelvis against his. "Breathe deep, sweetie. It 's time to go...."

TO BE CONTINUED